Thursday, 15 June 2017

shayad yeh nadani

ipk 3 anniversary month still on. i wanted to just sigh over the beautiful writing and delivery by a lovely inward sounding voice. i have no idea who actually wrote the "shayad yeh nadani" soliloquy of khushi's. what i do know is you rarely get such depth of thought and words on telly. not in a serial certainly. falling in love and romance are not arcane niche things, there's loads of writing on this... naturally to find what stands out is tough. so many things start sounding the same. here there was a brief to writer i think to establish love including the feeling of falling in it without using the word love... also to say it all using nafrat, the feeling clearly identified by the speaker. hate is akin to love, ha, mills and boon stuff, right... so how come these guys took it to this classic level. no hesitation, no yikes i will regret this later, but this is fantastic writing.

and sanaya irani, such flawless delivery. hits the insides makes you want to feel exactly those feelings. whoever directed her for this one... arshad k or lalit m... may jalebis rain on you all your life.

wrote this three years ago, the sixth anniversary month is still on i see.

my take on episode 255 

baat aapki hai episodes

Friday, 9 June 2017

to find you... new vm with an old song

have you heard hemanta mukherjee's "na tum hamein jaano"? a timeless smooth lilt, a melody that without even seeming to want to, gets inside, makes you want to sing. hemanta's voice, intimate, crooning, mesmerised, taking you through a labyrinth of emotions in search of your humdum... your soulmate, your lover, your love... even if you may not have ever met.

a favourite song of mine. from the 1962 film baat ek raat ki. i so wanted to see what asr and kkg would do with it. ever since i've come across them, the silence keeps telling me a tale.

hope you enjoy the vm.

hemant kumar, as he was known in hindi films, and suman kalyanpur sing. lyrics are by majrooh sultanpuri; music by hemant kumar.

na tum hamein jaano, na hum tumhein jaane

neither do you know me, nor i you
magar lagta hai
kuch aisa mera humdum mil gaya
and yet it feels
as though i have found my soulmate

yeh mausam yeh raat chup hai

the surroundings and this night are quiet

woh honthon ki baat chup hai

the words on those lips are quiet

khamoshi sunane lagi hai dastaan
the silence has begun to tell a tale

nazar ban gayi hai dil ki zubaan
the gaze speaks the language of the heart

mohabbat ke mor pe hum

at the crossing of love

mile sab ko chhorke hum

we met leaving everything behind

dhadakhte dilon ka leke yeh caravaan
on this caravan of beating hearts
chale aaj dono jaane kahaan

the two of us go, who knows where

na tum hamein jaano, na hum tumhein jaane

neither do you know me, nor i you
magar lagta hai 
kuch aisa mera humdum mil gaya
and yet it feels
as though i have found my soulmate

no copyright infringement intended, the video is not made for any commercial considerations. many thanks to original owners of material. 


n i s h a n a   e p i s o d e s
fan fiction

Thursday, 8 June 2017

it's a conspiracy

deep lovers of shyam seem to have been involved with the making of the serial. they gave him kkg's best palat. and he got to stare at her when she looked really rather, no abs very, pretty. laad governor was shortchanged. we must take this matter up with the un.

what's life without a couple of conspiracy theories (imagine asr standing there in a blue shirt, winking). here's one. there may be more.

n i s h a n a   e p i s o d e s
fan fiction


Tuesday, 6 June 2017


happy sixth, everyone.






sixth anniversary has landed

the anniversary threads have started everywhere; edits, gifs, vms, write ups pouring in.

now why can't i say thread without my mind flying to a dori. gosh. don't tell me he's going to rip that thing... but he has...

and rat a tatta a tat. the little beads... no, they're pearls... they scatter. i hear them in my head. her eyes are shocked, then terrified, then...

he stares at her, the darkness in his eyes, the darkness all about him, the sheer lightlessness of him. surely he is not the hero of this show...

she whimpers, turning away, but then she pulls at another thread. it's a shiny one. a gota ribbon wrapped around her long plait; and her hair cascades, covering her back, she turns and looks at the man. a story begins in her eyes.

a thousand times they've done this before my eyes. a zillion times in my head and heart... my dil and dimaag, and perhaps in my toes and fingers and ears and nose too, certainly in my throat.

and now he's standing in his office with a fixed stare. what's that shining thing on the desk?

and she's picked up a broom, a jhadoo, and dancing with it.
who's that woman the man can't walk away from. why does she limp?

why's the girl so thin and vulnerable looking? and really, what's with the tight churidar and crooked plait... and mojris.

wait. is that a goat walking about in the house?

how did that man and the girl reach the cliff, and did she just grab his hand and laugh? did he look at her in a sliding sideways glance. did he smile? no, he couldn't have.

now they're by a poolside. she's falling. but he never lets her. why are my toes curling?

a sweet looking man saves the girl. yes, he must be the hero.
no, he isn't.

the man in a suit is sitting in a cafe trying hard not to laugh. the girl in the turquoise blue churidar is tearing a packet of biscuits with her... teeth. she's affronted by all the hard work they make you do to get a cup of tea.

he's lifting her up in his arms, but she has just pushed him, and pushed him again, and told him exactly why he is a terrible terrible man.

he is that.

he has done some trick and is wearing a black waistcoat and shirt now, as the spot light picks him up. she's in a flowing green chiffon, her hair hanging straight to her hips, and i don't really care if it's a switch. my stomach is tumbling most alarmingly as he floats up to her, something in his eyes. why, oh why do they use slomo so well, my brain is trying to think... resist this whole thing. but i know, there's no point trying. no point.

she's in a red red chiffon now. and he has stopped dead in his tracks. he wants to tell her she is nothing, he is in command. but why is that song rising and distracting him so.

what is my name, he has asked her with a mean superior look, he's going to give her hell. have you forgotten, she wonders... 

welcome to hell. no, this man cannot be a good guy.
she's giggling as a ring tone goes off. no, she is not such a good girl.

she is saying sorry, holding her ears. a feeling is rushing through his eyes.

it's sunday. she is falling on an orange beanbag in the middle of a store room, he's flying, trying to catch a little idol.

the dupatta flies and covers his face. and lingers... and passes gently.

he's telling her she looks like a delhi auto rikshaw.

he's telling her... get out. he's yelling, shut up. he's thundering how dare you. she's asking him if he's bought all the daring.

she's flung hot tea on him. he sits there, his chest red, his face still.

they're talking by the window. about stars. how did they even get here?

she's running to him in a hospital. he's screaming into the night.

she's walking backward by the poolside, he looks mesmerised, as he walks toward her. his hands come slowly up and land on her cheeks, his thumb strokes her skin. large brown hands, so so gentle. her lips tremble.

why are there goosebumps crawling up my shin even as i write this?

he's standing at a terrace door, the light is slowly going out in his eyes. he's dragging her up the temple steps. she is looking at him, her eyes helpless. the bells clang, the winds howl.

top shot. he's standing on a paved floor, looking up. shades one. the pigeons fly. she watches him.

she's tied her hair in a loose knot, and she is cooking outdoors. he walks up a verandah, a smile on his face. she is in orange. he in brown.

she thinks the room belongs to the goat. she has just told om parakash ji aka op that they were playing blind man's bluff.

they're fighting on a terrace. he is hugging his girlfriend, and a tear slips out of her eye. she's telling him she couldn't put orange juice in his shoes, because it wasn't available. his lips are lifting in a strange way. he's smiling. at her. yes, he is.

he's just said hi to her. he's told her he wants to talk to her. he's holding her dupatta, and reeling her in. she's doing a mudra, he's staring. she's thrown him onto her bed and covered him with her quilt. her aunt thinks it's her sister. she's asking her aunt, after doing all this you'll go to sleep, won't you.

he's told his cousin he'll help him crack this... deal.

she's told him she's going away. to lucknow. forever. hamesha.

she's sitting in his cupboard.

she's walking down a ramp in green and gold. he opens his eyes. he sees her for the first time.

she closes her eyes. hey devi maiyya, protect her.

she's whirling away, tripping, falling.

she's opened the door, dressed in gaudy saree and gold. he's right in front of her. a woman in gaudy gold behind. in pink shades.

it's raining. he's come out of nowhere and caught her. she clings to him. he walks out in the rain. i am right. i am not wrong. he doesn't care about her or any girl... koi faraq nahin padta.

she's drawing him close, he's rolling over and his body covers her. she's in jet black and they lie upon a white sheet.

a pink lehriya dupatta flies up and touches his face. he's looking at her... that helpless thing in his eyes.

she's walking slowly down the path, hum theek nahin hai, she says to herself. she's not okay.

fairylights glimmer, wrapped around a thin girl in green. brown hands extricate strands caught in her pompoms.

i am walking toward sheeshmahal. the flutter of pigeon's wings. there are memories in every pillar and arch, every withering wall and moss covered stone. and a mystery. a mystery that will perhaps never be solved. i gather the pearls, slowly, one at a time, and look at them closely.

the pigeons fly out reach for the skies.

a very happy anniversary to all of you.

i made this vm a while ago, in a fit of, what else, missing ipk. hope you enjoy. here's to hamesha.

Sunday, 4 June 2017

a ditty for fifth

get an suv get angry fry jalebi
wear mojri say hey dm play with op
shout get out swear what the
let a dori snap let a goat chat
make a mami face make your kismet
does a nani dance does a di pray
can an akash make a payal ji stay
take a poolside on a holi trip
via nainital and a dhaba
let laad governor of kahin ke
hate the true devi of sanka
make an nk all hai re
and a bua say humahoon do
may hp's avatars grow
and happy ji's happy smile floor
and la do many round round
shut up don't make a sound
does a moustache look good on a
jeeja ji hone wale does a snake need
a slap or two from his own very saab saaley
hug babu ji hold amma
golgappe balushahi
sheeshmahal is in lucknow
lakshminagar is in dilli
but no one will ever know
where exactly is mama ji
how dare you aap shut up
tum theek ho she's beaaautiful
shadi karni hogi ramanchi
yup that's it tum kitni intelligent ho
let the rain fall go atchhoo
go on girl fall he'll catch you
say kya kar rahi ho tum hoarsely
and pass out in a guest house
stay mere paas and mere saath
it's five years get the cake out
make an almost kiss diwali date
ha ha happy fifth i wish ya
hum bhi aapse i love you dammit
rabba vey did you say hamesha?

wrote this last year for the fifth anniversary of this crazy making show. :) sixth anni in two days. lots of rumours floating about the new show called ipkknd 3. keeping nimbu mirchi handy.

nishana ipk

in lucknow you'll find some lucknowi ways, girls in wedding finery with sneakers on their feet, men in aviators a complete visual treat, and if you think a haveli is sorely required, look there just beyond that, is that what you desired? and should you ever enter a bhoolbhulaiya only to lose your way, 
fear not, the man with a rose is waiting to have his say. from that very first hour he knew what we would know some day soon, a rose is about to find her thorn, on this wonderful evening of sixth june.

iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? is a hindi serial telecast by star plus from 6 june 2011 to 30 november 2012. the show ended amid a fair bit of controversy and heartache. three years on, it still touches, still thrills, still takes one far far away. (i wrote this in 2015, for a "third anniversary" celebration on india-forums>)

was there ever a time without jalebi, without scattering 

pearls, without suv, payal, mannat ki chabi, without a girl with a crooked

plait and a straight to the heart, funny, snazzy, sanka and a man with the

most exotic eyes and dammit, and a catastrophe in his heart and mind that 

just wouldn't let him give a faraq for anything. did time really tick before

rabba vey? iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? was clearly no ordinary soap, 

though a full blooded, large, rambling, dhakdhak giving, colourful soap it

certainly was. if the landing in the helicopter and the take off on a scooter 

with "hey devi maiyya" sotto voce didn't tell you something out of the

ordinary was coming your way, then the goat certainly did. hai re nand

kissore, what's this about a goat now... well, she was the keeper and 

bestower of great wealth, lakshmi ji no less; and she could talk. perhaps

not as much as the girl who loved to hear a man yell "shaat up" but she

could carry on an avid conversation as hp will happily confirm. but before 

i digress, and in case you still haven't realised it, we are in a maze. naturally...

this is lucknow, you're in iss pyaar ko land with indi. and it should come as 

no surprise that we are now lost in the bhoolbhulaiya. ever since the beginning

some of us have been lurking here looking for the way out, but not till we

have found the way to hamesha. the more we lose our way, 

 the closer we seem to get. she came out of nowhere

and fell right into his arms, he reached out and caught her and his eyes

settled on her lips... something happened. he kept her in captivity, she

pleaded to be set free, when she said what he couldn't bear to hear, he

snapped her dori... the pearls scattered, she looked back shocked, he glared

at her in raging fury. and strangely enough a string was tied forever...

on it was threaded hamesha.

khushi kumari gupta and arnav singh raizada met, fought, raved, ranted,

hated, faraq nahin padta they averred, they played, hugged, kissed, loved, 

loved so much that your saansey ceased, your dhadkan wanted to be one 

with someone's, nafrat couldn't take it and turned into mohabbat, and in

the meantime, there was catching and falling, gusts of wind with esoteric

knowledge, rabba vey which somehow never missed a cue, there was of

course villainy and hairan pareshaan, the labyrinth kept growing and

inviting us in... we never thought we should leave, nor did we leave a trail

of bread crumbs to show the light when we wanted to go back out... no, none of that... this was no fairy tale, this was the real sapnon ki duniya, our skd where we shivered and swooned to teri meri prem kahani and sighed at a kiss or almost kiss... we believed, yes we had vishwas the stars would show the way when we wanted to leave... that second last one from the left which shines the brightest maybe? but we are in no rush


hi, thanks for visiting. iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? has 398 episodes and many many untold stories of khushi kumari gupta and asr. i write episode takes and fanfiction among other things. there are vms here as well. you'll find all the episode takes under "episode rambles", under "iss pyaar ko chapters" in the sidebar, you'll find the episodes divided into sections, making it easier to find what you're looking for. "seat belt!" has all sorts of pondering and mutterings and edits and vms. do look around and i hope you have a splendid time roaming about among all the crazy mad pyaar and nafrat.

click here for

click here for

mohabbat door jaane na de


nafrat paas aane na de

iss pyaar ko kya naam doon?