Sunday, 1 January 2017

episode 240 be my bride

"arre inhone toh generator theek kiya toh yeh mixie aur radio kya cheez hai?"

this guy fixed the generator... so what's a mixie or a radio to him.

in the middle of a wedding we went to a strange place called the raizada repair centre where khushi set up a situation that compelled asr to repair all the dud contraptions of mohalla lakshminagar.

despite fairly decent acting by all in the train jaisi lambi queue and even a bit of asr flirting and deal making with the suddenly very flat and strident wife, i didn't really connect to the moments.

just a thought in my head. he could repair everything under the sun, but alas not the one thing that needed only his touch to heal and be whole again. a very broken heart belonging to a rather too loudly happy and laughing girl.

soon enough it was time to slip on cow dung and look suitably chastised in middle class milieu learning all about how the good people on the other side of life live. sorry, but had shyam suddenly kidnapped gautam hegde, ved raj, and whoever else was writing the script so he could niftily kill off asr without having to actually abduct him and take care of his boarding and lodging for almost a month? it's expensive to keep tycoons after all. this entire track did all it could to finish off the arrogant devil in white shirt and dark waistcoat who was the dhakdhak in a girl's acidity. suddenly everything about him had to be changed... it was perfectly fine to be completely insensitive to his needs, make him do all sorts of strange things, take off his clothes as and when whoever pleased, get him wet and gleefully laugh at the thought of swooning girls and climbing trp, and in a fit of self righteousness even remove bits of his dimaag so he doesn't say, "shut up! seat belt!" get into the suv and drive off with his wife to his castle.

really i can't believe i just sat through all the episodes and found things to like in them even. honest confession... i did it for barun. not because he is drop dead gorgeous... well then i'd be watching baat with rapt attention again and again too... also shraddha. no, that was not the reason, though oh yes, he looked ab kya boloon.

but really it was because, no matter what, he kept asr alive and keeping. and in subtle well thought out ways... because frankly the script was not helping one bit. the little stylish gestures, the slightly aloof air, the flecks of temper or impatience or just plain dimaag amid too cutesy stuff. even when he was melting at the attention and pampering by aunty and bua ji, he was always asr.

while repairing, errant locks of hair fell forward, hair mussed uff. and an air of concentration perfectly called up... uff again.

during the somewhat forced funny scene with bua ji and blue tooth, again i thought how does such a slight thin guy move with such presence. pure animal grace on screen. the camera loves barun sobti, can't blame it.
then i watched gobar, found asr... lotus in muck. just look at him.

"don't even say a word!" said the wounded man to his heartlessly grinning wife. what a time this fellow is having...

she mimed the whole shall i wash you down with a hose thing... like that day in shantivan when he had said they wouldn't speak to each other again.

"whattt!" sexy anger.

she smiled, she loves to be shouted at by him i am convinced now.

she sprayed him with the hose, and he just let her... somehow just used to the madness now, quick learner... and as he watched her laugh and giggle that familiar thing happened... hey hey... watching her being khushi he could let go from within, get lost and fall in love again and again... asr still has no idea this is love, this is just faraq that refuses to go away.

as in all episodes, writers mixed comedy with action with a spot of drama, life like mix of the various moods and tones of existence.

she is dressed in wedding finery again... last time she had become the dulhan, though she had no idea that would be the case. she tells her sad friend, the dukhan this evening... forget all else, today is your life's biggest and most beautiful day. this is khushi. she has always believed in marriage, in the wedding day being the most significant day of one's life...

she gets involved, she revels in her task, she wants the bride to be beautiful, that is the right of a bride... "hum usko aur bhi saja denge..." she had said, i'll deck her up even more.

no one had dressed her up that night. an important ritual, "sajana". looking beautiful as a woman ready to accept a man into her life, dressing up for him, is a very important part of the wedding customs, always a lot of fuss about who is doing the bride's make up, etc., these days it's parlours, once it was aunts, cousins and friends. and some giggling and gossip over this happy task.

the friends asked khushi if she remembered the day of her wedding.

lagta hai purane din yaad aa gaye, apne shadi ke din yaad kar rahi ho na?

khushi was smiling... he had walked in and was gazing at her... in his hands bua ji's machine, this time he has done the right thing and insisted he'd take it. 

in a second her smile began to contract, a strain of music reminded her of things...

he watched, tense.

a helpless girl stood before a man who wouldn't listen to anything. a man she loved... he thrust a mangalsutra around her neck.

tell us, khushi, chimed the friends. "bata do, khushi," even preeto wanted to know... there was only one thing to do.

she lied.

she made up a story of the wedding finery she had possibly detailed and executed in her mind many times.

"hamara lehenga bhi kuch aisa tha, lekin poora laal nahin tha... hara bhi tha... hamara man pasand rang... khile bahar ki tarah,"

my lehenga was a bit like this, but not all red, with a touch of my favourite colour, green...

he listened knowing what he had tried not to know maybe: how much he had devastated that laughing girl with this one act of his...

he had been convinced there was no other way. maybe he realised she would be hurt... but like this? and the impact it would have on him?

"kaano mein jhoomke halke toh nahin the, lekin unpe kaam bahut baarik tha... zara si bhi hawa chalti... toh awaz karti..."

the birdcage earrings were not light but the work on them was very delicate, the slightest breeze, and they'd make a noise...

he swallowed... this was reaching him and falling all over his being. he was getting drenched again. this time by the tears trapped in a girl's heart.. that she is trying all she can to rein in... 

he had fallen perhaps in a really murky mess, rotten and stinking... maybe the only thing that would wash it all away and make him pristine again are a girls innocent, untainted, true tears.

"haatho mein chooriya aise bhari hui... ke hamari kalai nazar hi nahina aa rahi thi..."

bangles covered my arms so that i could barely see my wrist.

"payron mein khoob ghungroo wali payal jo har kadam par chhanchanati thi..."

on my feet payal with many bells that rang and jingled at every step...

friends are looking dreamy eyed. such a lovely picture this girl paints. her voice poised and full of grace... sanaya's forte these scenes with that voice touched by a timeless quality. mellifluous, pure, completely free of anything dark.

he watches, a sadness invading him and swallows again.

"aur maathe par? chaand sa sundar teeka..."

and on my forehead? a teeka as lovely as the moon.

she was as pretty as a moonbeam bathed night tonight... 

as she completed her picture, looked as though he was visualising her like that... just like that. as if he wanted to see her like that... his beautiful bride.

"humne pallu kuch aisa dala hua tha"... i had taken my pallu like this, she goes on to help her friend again.

a serene calm in the room, the bride is getting ready, the mood is  concentrating.

the friends wished she had called them to the wedding, they would have seen her all dressed up. innocent girl chatter, a bit giggly, spreading light happy love.

anguish marks her face...

she was getting ready to save the moment with another lie, when she saw him in the mirror... with his load, with his despair in wretched eyes... his lips looking more asymmetrical than usual, something very emotional and intense in that. 

she looked on not knowing what to say and he too... just a sadness, an immense sadness. in him something even greater, a burden. a burden much heavier than what he carried. once bua ji and khushi had lugged  a trunk and a load... today, his turn.

rabba ve... the mournful heavy call came from two hearts... some things cannot be said... he only suffered when he thought of that night. she did too and she had no idea why it had to be so, she had perhaps started dreaming of a very different night by then.

he turned away first, he couldn't keep looking at her...

he deposited the machine and turned to go, but he did have to turn back once, just once.

her eyes were full of tears now.

he remembered what he'd said... shadi karni hogi... mujhse... abhi (on an exhale, the "i" floating out to the skies). you have to marry... me... now. otherwise i won't let your sister's wedding go through.

and she recalled him dragging her up the stairs, flinging her, sindoor on her parting... rabba vey.

two conversations really... one over gobar, that makes things pure, and a spray of water that cleans away... the other over a sadness that nothing might ever wash away... not even the tears that welled in her eyes. and was there a sheen of moisture in his too?

thank g for bua jis and ammas and their gentle innocent fussing. they save our world from going insane keeping it firmly balanced with a hold of unrestrained love... did they ever finally make that pasta a la bachcha makai yani ki baby koren.

and really blue tooth does look like hearing aid, i am on bua ji's side on this one, hai re nand k.


preeto and a wedding episodes
episode rambles

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