that morning there was anger in him and perhaps a hint of guilt too. perhaps he sought the comfort of his plants, their calming effect. he was a gardener deep down, he wanted to create, see things grow, blossom, it perhaps soothed him in unspoken ways too. it was perhaps also a way to shut the bedard duniya out.
but this morning, it wouldn't shut out a voice. a voice that accused him. a voice that insulted him with that bhad mein jaaye. a voice that questioned his very character. a voice that did something to him that he couldn't quite understand. and his character... so precious to him... to be sahi... to not be galat... like his father. in fact, his dimaag and dil have whispered to him before that what he's doing with this girl may not be right... in the suv, after the rain, in the rain... kyun, kyun mujhe aisa lag raha hai...
he who had sworn never to let kissi ladki make any faraq... because a woman, an illicit romantic relationship perhaps, had ruined their lives... now this ladki was so much on his mind. i think he genuinely was uncomfortable with that. in fact, had kkg not run after him in the mazar, he would have walked away. if she hadn't landed up in his office and insisted on working, he'd have been fine. he was comfortable where he was, his safe zone. now this knocking on the gates of his domain, his fort.
the voice connected him to an anger that had possibly become part of him. it triggered fury. just as there was extreme tenderness in him, there was a proclivity for violence. did it take root on that night he saw his mother die and all because of his father's misdemeanour? so much of asr is in that echoing maa.
when he lost his cool, he catapulted to violence often. that snapping of the pearl string on their first meeting. she mentioned his sister, he lost control. this out of proportion anger, that made him lose his senses was always there. on the night of a wedding, on a terrace, he would again lose all control over his feelings and commit an act of violence almost by yoking the one his heart ached for to him but in the most painful and traumatic way.
today, he was at the beginning of this yearning. it was still not clear to him what it was... why her words mattered. why he couldn't stop thinking of her. and how dare she insult him. he had to do something. and do it now. her tirade had left him speechless. she had railed at him. he had tried to say something, but she wouldn't let him speak... he had been struck deep by her words, he could only express that feeling through anger perhaps. all that pent up anger was bursting forth now. had she been around, the brunt of his anger would be borne by her. but she wasn't, he reached out for something precious and flung it down. all his tenderness and violence mixed in that act? we see the gussa. we don't sense the tenderness... he needs to apologise to the girl he almost harmed irreparably becasue he was angry with her... t his sister knows him well, she knows what hdes underneath that anger.
asr was an upright human being. he'd never knowingly have sent khushi to a dangerous place. that was bothering him. her believing that he was a man with no conscience was bothering him. her tirade and insults were something he never would take from anyone, that was bothering him. the girl was too much on his mind, that was bothering him. he reached out and expressed his anger. without words. with just a violent act.
why did i hear that jagged sharp maa in it as i thought about it now? just like that moment in his life, from normal to chaos... was this a leitmotif in his life?
and did the anger of guesthouse and the resignation also make him note there was a similarity in him and this girl from out of the blue... did he hear echoes of his gussa in hers? again di pointed out there was something that was alike in both... she didn't say the rest, that in everything else they were poles apart.
but it wasn't just their gussa, it was their tenderness too, that was alike and sweet as h. just look at the way he's taking care of his plants. wonderful direction, taking it from that sweetness to that chaos. the play of contrasts. and who could do it more brilliantly than one asr.
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