diwali oh diwali

 

why are you doing this to me on a march morning?

not the best of gifs, but the best of jodis nevertheless.

what was the matlab, the meanin, of the madness it unleashed on me? it... them... a tv show... easy to say it means nothing, yet, even now, after more almost ten years, when i see this, i watch the jerky motion of the gif, i am trying to lip read, my insides are clenched, my heartbeat is skipping. no matlab, right?

diwali and koi matlab nahin episodes

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kahani again 277

my longing, my story, my reach and beyond, come... 

to hold a dream in my hands and never let go... to believe...

come hold me never leave tell me again the story... of our lives of our love of things i've never known.

stay in my heart, stay in my gaze, stay in the corners of darkness and shimmer, love.

percolating every moment, permeating, penetrating getting embedded... oh that need that right that coming together.

episode 277

 

episode 277 may i have this dance

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beyond a boundary, into another realm

"khushi!" he called out, she turned around instantly to answer him. and so started a conversation of a kind we'd perhaps never seen before. certainly not in a tv show. a chat between lovers across distance, aided not by modern technology but by the ancient knowhow of the body and the mind... and yes, the heart. a telepathic conversation shook viewers out of complacence on 18/19 june 2012. asr and khushi spoke to each other, while he sat in captivity and she by the poolside under the stars. seemed the stars too had aided and abetted this daring adventure. some were elated, others openly scoffed. telepathy? oh come on, these things don't happen. the cvs seem to have lost it completely. there were sniggers and giggles in many quarters. and yet, something about that conversation felt beautifully real, plausible, possible... desirable. but then this sensing of each other had been there from the very start... in the synchronised opening and closing of asr and khushi's eyes in that very first episode surely an idea had begun... and now came its fullest expression. still, it was a brave move by writers. might have looked ridiculous, but they knew they had actors who'd pull it off brilliantly. and, oh yes, they certainly did. our five senses were once aroused by teri meri, now soon once more it will come to arouse, this time crossing a boundary... so we may reach for our sense number six and enter a chat that perhaps only lovers can have.

wrote this on the anchor post of blast from the past thread 26 on india-forums, a note on teri meri.

episode 278 a conversation in hamesha

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writing a character and how not to lose it

chatting on india forums, sometime in 2014, a dear friend wrote the following in italics. i replied, you can see that below the italicised text. today, i read it by chance. iss pyaar ko made us not just feel, but think... perhaps that's why, it'll always remain significant. or as kk would say, hamesha. or as asr would say, what rubbish.


Some of us were utterly disappointed at how Khushi's character was reduced post the hate marriage. But I don't think its the male writers who have done injustice to this female character as it was females who were at the helm deciding for this show, be it the producer herself or importantly the Star Plus creative head who decides the content of every episode for a show (the one who thought ASR can be killed/ changed just like they could do with some other shows!). The regression of the female lead started much earlier than that where in post Diwali, the girl who once retorted by the pool side while she lost her payal, "Had I known, I would die but wouldn't have come to your place", bravo girl, went amiss! Post Shyam revelation, where she was denied of love by one and was coerced to get engaged to another only to realize him to be a lecher, neither her love importantly nor her pain was highlighted. Except for a couple of sequences post the so called Hate marriage, there wasn't any focus on her turmoil. Everything was left for one's interpretation.  This love story has been about the male protagonist from Day 1 and always meandered the way the he wanted, whether his struggle, denial, guilt, acknowledgement! 

As said in Geeta, "Swadharme nidhanam shreyah, paradharmo bhayavahah" (Better is one's own duty though devoid of merit than that of another well discharged). Isn't that what exactly seem to be the difference between ASR's and Khushi's actions, swadharma of the former and Paradharma of the latter??

This wouldn't necessarily make ASR right, the way he executed it.  Even if he were to ask and believe Khushi, having truly seen Shyam's madness for Khushi (pagalpan, junoon as Shyam said) in order to bear with him for the next 6 months, marrying Khushi would have been the only option, perhaps at her consent but not necessarily family's. But for him, the pain of the knowledge that her mother like sister's trust and marriage was in shambles would still remain! 

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horizon,

well said about the women who were in charge. and i do agree the story is primarily about the male protagonist. that in itself doesn't bother me... it is the bent of the tale, its reason for existence.

where i find a sad lack of responsibility in writing is in the way characters, especially the female lead, have been treated at will. yes, that started way back, not here.

no matter who is your protagonist, when you create characters you have to be true to them... if you are a writer with any integrity that is. to completely ditch the female lead's character, to make her into a meaningless muddle... that i thought was not done... of course, you will manipulate characters, even the main lead, but the task is not to lose them, however hard that might be... that is the  challenge of creative writing...

here i did feel khushi was treated in a most cavalier fashion... made into a caricature when it suited them, and then suddenly achchi bahu bharatiya nari... anything... along the way she was gone. whoever the writer was... the one who executes the words and story... messed up. i did feel a male indifference to a woman's mind here. centuries of patriarchy and seeing men as natural leaders... karta... has its impact on minds, male or female. gul, gautam hegde, ved raj, hitesh kevaliya, whoever started letting khushi become less, was wrong.

when one sees the final scenes of othello, desdemona still feels real... not just othello. many stories are about one principle character, male or female (zee's astitwa did a pretty decent job of portraying a female protagonist but created a memorable male lead too)... but the other characters remain relevant... as they are... not just as a tool. a rather clumsy writer's tool at that.

i do feel writing was ultimately weak. bits of utter brilliance, but no real consistency or commitment of writers... more a show of "cleverness" from time to time... in the middle of it all some lovely lines... but tell me if sanaya and barun were not saying them, would we be swooning?

can't think of anyone else who could have made stuff that was kinda corny sound practically divine, like a life lesson.

loved the geeta quote... still trying to understand it.

but the oft said karmanye badhikaraste comes to mind... that went missing, too much concentration on the fruit of action.



n i s h a n a   e p i s o d e s

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happy diwali and really koi matlab nahin

there can never be diwali again without my mind going to a poolside, a haircut, a backward step, a forward step, a pair of quiverting lips, a hand going up, another hand going up, a transfixed gaze, a tear rolling down the cheek, a koi matlab nahin, a means nothing, a koi matlab nahin? 

rhapsody in red : a vm

gravity... nothing can pull us apart : a vm on a coldplay song

everything diwali
 

 

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that morning after

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.

episode 34 i am not okay

g.u.e.s.t.h.o.u.s.e.  e.p.i.s.o.d.e.s

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gussawala asr

on the forum, someone asked me, after reading my ff not cut out for love, why i was "so obsessed with this dominant-ruthless-gussawala ASR so much?" :) my answer...


oh, that gussa of asr, sneha, how to explain how deeply it used to move me. the sudden flare ups of this otherwise cool calculated reasonable young man. his gussa spoke stories, stories no one ultimately told... nani ji had once said his gussa was like his father's and oh the sharp snapping retort... i am nothing like him.

and his gussa's measure hinted at the measure of the pyaar he could give... till then only given to his maa and his sis... but to overcome that shattered trust always echoing in his gussa and to give his pyaar, as intense as and even more than his gussa, to a complete outsider... for someone to actually breach that gussa fort of his... that was their pyaar which was difficult to find a name for. would anyone love a man who dragged them to a temple seething, cursing, angry and thrust sindoor on their maang? should anyone? this was a question almost implicit in the show. yet, khushi did. she could read beyond the gussa, she knew somewhere what brought on the gussa, and she perhaps ached to soothe it even as she was stoked to gussa herself. this was a beautiful story of emotions, how they are not always easily understood or explained.

that marriage was forced on the show, intersting that writers turned it into a forced marriage :). i have heard it was not supposed to be this, it was to be a forced live in situation instead. well, whatever it was to be... the crux of it would be asr's gussa at the thought of betrayal. khushi made very interesting observations about his anger. how he gets angry and does ridiculous and wrong things, then calms down and tries to set things right. that gussa was as much asr as his sexiness, his intelligence, his humour, his deep down soft heart, his regard for women, his ache, him.

ohhhohoho, no, mushy sweet asr just doesn't feel like asr to me.

and the asr i feel and hold dear, will do things which aren't always completely right. sometimes i will not be able to forgive him even, like that dropping her to the floor below from his office, even to some extent that marriage, and that snappng of dori... but all of that is him. you have to take a person as they are if they mean anything to you. yes, you can suggest change, hope they'll calm down a bit and get better... but there are no guarantees. khushi took that chance. i have great regard for her for seeing right into his character. and because she perhaps understood love better than he did, she never decided to change him even when it hurt her... and she could make him see sides of things in the most touching way, i so enjoyed her ultimate explanation to asr as to why she is doing karwa chauth, and how it really doesn't matter if he does not believe in such things. the girl is grand in many ways, and she has her share of gussa. thank h.

so yeah, hmmm, seems like i like gussawala asr.

the shadi karni hogi episodes

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talking about la

recently, on the forum, started chatting about ipk with someone. la came up. i am sure i've written about her somewhere, can't find it. but here are some thoughts. la was important... even asr knew it.



i have always liked la and have marvelled at the way ipk writers presented her, even if yes, there was some unfairness flung at her just to keep either story going or up the image of main lead.

la was not stupid. so making her seem so was irresponsible writing. i can understand adding nuance to a character, but this was ham handed messing with a character. perhaps having created a character that indian soap had really not seen before... or perhaps worried by the chemistry between la and asr, for there was plenty of that... or perhaps on some days they just needed some filler scenes, they were pretty unkind to her.
 
but really, la managed to handle all that and still had us feeling terrible for her at that moment when he said, "bahut bura lagta mujhe... par main kuch kabhi jaankar nahin karta, khushi, main bas aisa hi hoon, shayad main..."
 
(i feel really bad... but i never do anything knowing what i'm doing, khushi, i'm just, i am like this, maybe i...)
 
la heard khushi's name and seemed to freeze. he still had no idea what he's just said... he carriesd on, la can't stop him.
but then, la had to make him stop. for her sake. for his sake. she put her hand on his shoulder.
 
broke my heart. for la, for asr, for khushi, for this thing we call love.
 
i think sana got la. and she enjoyed being la, she interpreted her with emotion and integrity, and so no matter how much you tried to make her less, she remained relevant, touching your heart.
 
i used to seethe at the idea of la being "trained" to be more "bahu" like. the whole moving of la to shantivan and so kkg too, was done to get the romance out of the office to the home... i think i heard somewhere that for the general entertainment channels with their sort of audience, things have to happen in a "family" set up, so no cool ar office, and yes, the shadi must take place within six months, otherwise palpitating aunties of the world wouldn't be able to take it. this is the condescending and shallow target audience reading of most of these channels... so we had the forced wedding.
 
while they handled the coming of la to shantivan fabulously i just couldn't get over that whole asr saying, i'm leaving... haan, ussi ke paas jaaonga (words to that effect), and finally the solution worked out by the wily shyam and the live in girl friend scenario that "training" of la though made my hackles rise, as it did asr's.
 
again, it was la's character and sana's portrayal that made it work... she would eat egg which gave her allergy, because she's willing to do anything for him. from that perspective, knowing how much his family means to him (though he says only di matters and the rest don't), also wanting so terribly to be part of his life, i guess one could argue she'd agree to be "trained". thankfully, she rants angrily before giving in.
i was grateful la did not lose all of herself... her deciding she'd give kkg her kind of clothes had me grinning. yeah, la was willing to learn stuff to get what she wanted, but no, she wasn't walking out on herself. she also said very clearly what it was she had learnt and why it was precious.
 
la was refreshing. she never played "good girl". if she wanted something she went after it. she admitted to her own feelings. she was what she was, and there was a generous, not petty side to her... that paying for all the pizzas casually in an early office episode when sim and pam were out to rag kkg, and she didn't even like kkg.
 
la also loved asr more than he knew or perhaps even she. which may be one reason why she seemed to miss all the signs of attraction that asr was merilly exhibiting. he had called her khushi back in 80 (was it?), he had over reacted to kkg even earlier in 25 calling la for her phone number at night... la had pointed it out.
 
"tumhe nahin lag raha tum uss chhotey se employee ko kuch zyada dhyan de rahe ho?"
 
(don't you think you're paying too much attention to that junior employee?)
 
"enough, lavanya... number!"
 
but they say, the wife is always the last to find out about a husband's affairs... could it be that when we love someone too much and want them badly in our lives (or are so used to having them in our lives as happens with wives/spouses), we just don't see the obvious because we subconsciously do not wish to?
 
anyway, she finally did acknowledge what was going on. she went beyond. she understood exactly what this was about... it was about that sabse bada thing. it was about pyaar. this was pyaar.
 
she had been there... she knew what it was. even if her clever handsome astute and beautiful boyfriend didn't.
writers ultimately couldn't deny la her her place in this love story. or her compassion and the depth of her character.
how many women would walk away with such grace at the moment that la did? and without any rancour, wishing her friend and the man she loved the very best.
 
oh that scene with khushi... take care of asr.
 
that was la.
 
she could call you chamkili. she could be nasty as hell. she could disrespect an elder when drunk and call her gabbar. she could order you around. she could get allergy for you. she could long and agree to change for you. she could apologise. she could go for a party on her own. she could give what mattered most to her to you because she knew that's the way it had to be.
 
she always had a fear that asr would not be hers, didn't she? for perhaps she knew she never reached beyond a certain layer within him, and she knew there were many many layers beneath that and it was a matter of time before someone got there.
 
it was not that la didn't matter to asr. just that someone came along and slipped in even deeper. he had not planned for it. and he did all he could not to let it happen. he knew finally, he had not been fair to la... perhaps ever.
 
when they let la go... the writers seemed to be in a hurry. in a hindi serial evoking such positive and tender emotions for the "other girl" is rarely done, perhaps never... maybe they were scared, it might affect the main love story... i don't know. but la was lovely.
 
i would have liked to know what happened to her later. i really would.
 
you're right, asr would have never had such strong feelings for a bimbo. and their relationship had a touching quality to it. so very sweet (and predictably tycoonish) that sending of a bag to say sorry to la... months later, another bag would come along trying to win over another girl he'd really hurt.  asr had that obvious side to him, which made the other, less readable side oh so so very absorbing (i am being very circumspect with my words here hahha).



wrote this in my episode 12 take: i grew to really like this character. mind of her own, many shallownesses, yet a loving side, and extreme wisdom when she realises that the one she loves, loves another. her parting scenes are some of the best i've seen anywhere. also like the slowly growing friendship between her and her opposite, khushi. both girls were special. not stereotypical. each was human, filled with the aspirations of girls their age, time, and place. real people. as long as women are bound and gagged by so called tradition - because, sorry, indian tradition is very very far from what saas bahu serials will have us believe - we have no chance of respecting ourselves or being respected by society. strong words perhaps, but had to be said.





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i have written about lavanya on many of my takes. in episode 58/59 two girls and an attitude, i am quite irritated with her but right from her first appearance i'd taken to her as is evident in episode 12 look it's la. in episode 78 veil of truth, you'll find my thoughts on this not easy to dismiss girl just below this visual.

 

that diwali which meant nothing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

diwali. a momentous episode in the story of their love. here a delineation of the powerful, elemental pull between a man and a woman... a carnal, physical, mindless thing in it. every encounter would change them a little, make their relationship take a step, but diwali was a tectonic shift. a heave in it and when things settled back, they weren't exactly the same as before, a permanent change had taken place. nothing would be the same again. and that's why maybe story wise, it was the perfect moment to have them commit to a life with someone else.

doesn't mean a thing.

koi matlab nahin? 

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ipkknd rewind 7 jan 2019

the tycoon returneth day after tomorrow. can't say some amount of sanka isn't spreading already... smell of jalebi being fried in the air. or is it chameli ka tel.

 

the finger had to pause there. it's only business, said my head. but my dil was in no mood to listen.

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new one shot : deal

"the deal's off, gentlemen! akash, let's go."

the voice rang out sharp and precise, its decibel remained low.

there was a tremor on the surface of the water in the glasses on the long conference room table, and as the three men sitting across watched nonplussed, the man who had just uttered those words got up smoothly from the leather upholstered chair and strode toward the exit. behind him shuffled a pleasant looking young man, with a slightly myopic air, his amiable face filling with bewilderment.

the man he followed had not a trace of amiability or bewilderment on his visage. he looked straight ahead, his profile immobile. his jawline was rigid, his lips had thinned to a steely contour, his eyes were opaque. he breathed swiftly, the air he exhaled was searing. anger was apparent in every line and movement of his taut, lithe frame. he walked fast and didn't look back as one of the men, the large one with a flamboyant lavender velvet jacket, called out plaintively, "mr raizada! but, mr raizada...!"

the youngest of the three men, the only one in shirtsleeves, ran after the man who was now almost at the stern of the yacht, where a smart sunseeker predator in white and polished black waited. in front, the elegant arc of mandovi stretched and touched the horizon, it was a warm day in june, sunlight glittered on the undulating ripples, an eagle banked gracefully overhead.

"arnav! arnav! don't worry about what daddy is saying, i'll find a way..." the young man stuttered in his haste, obviously distressed.

the man walking ahead didn't break his stride. at the edge of the stern he leapt neatly across to the other yacht, then he turned and stood still for a moment facing the young man who shifted awkwardly on his feet, looking perturbed.

"it's okay, we agree to your terms!" the young man blurted out, unable to bear the pressure of that long point blank stare.

there was a lick of fire in the inscrutable eyes; though one couldn't be sure. wind blew back thick jet black hair off the man's high forehead, a sharply etched widow's peak at the centre. his precisely cut charcoal grey jacket fluttered in the breeze, the slim trouser legs wrapped around legs firmly planted about a foot apart, the yacht swayed gently.

"good," said the man.

relief washed over the young man's face, he gave a helpless smile and began, "thanks, arnav, you don't know..."

"akash!" the man cut in, "take the deed and let's go!"

he turned around once more and walked off.

the young man was too flabbergasted to say anything. akash singh raizada walked up to him and with his habitual gentle smile held out his hand for the deed of sheesh mahal.


***


sheesh mahal.

he exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. the river was all reflections, the sky closed in, the yacht increased speed. a shrill call cut through the air and hovered over images intent on entering his mind. it was the eagle. he swallowed and an indecipherable expression glanced across the planes and angles of his face, he seemed to start. suddenly his face looked tired, drawn.

sheesh mahal... the house of glass, of shattered mirrors, in which every image must get tainted, must bleed, must die. the eagle called again. his eyes opened and he stared straight into the sun, which was getting brighter just before setting.

dark irises glinted. you could tell now they were brown, a deep startling shade of earth and cognac, a transparency in them which you'd never have imagined only an instant before.

"bhai!" akash was standing behind him, he sounded elated, "how did you manage to swing that! those guys! poor chaps!"

arnav singh raizada gave a tight smile and drawled, "akash. money. it's all about that. and yes -"
he turned deliberately toward his cousin, and reaching out with a languid arm dusted an imaginary speck off his shoulder with long fingers that were, as always, perfectly manicured.

"-don't let anyone get away with a 'no'. remember, you don't win some and lose some, you win them all."

akash grinned nervously. he hoped his cousin was saying this in jest.
he knew for certain, he wasn't.


***


the helicopter's staccato whir sent ripples through the silent air of the night. lights began to dot the land below. first just a handful, then more. and the twinkling grew, beckoning. they had reached lucknow.

arnav sat staring ahead in the passenger's seat behind the pilot. the robinson r66 five seater craft had started to arc toward the destination, they were beginning to descend.

a pair of remote eyes looked down. was there a flash of lightning caught and stilled somewhere, in some inaccessible depth or haunted recess?

the man in the passengers' seat threw back his shoulders and took a deep long breath. it had been a while. yes, a long while. was sheesh mahal ready for him? was he...?

arnav singh raizada cut the thought short.

the flight from goa had been delayed, they'd reached delhi as evening fell. he was determined to reach sheesh mahal that very day. there would be no waiting, enough time had been wasted, been taken away.

he was out of the helicopter the instant it landed. as his feet touched the ground, he breathed in again, this time sharply. it was done. he had returned. he had wrested from the pretenders what was his. the night air touched his face, and seemed to greet him.

darkness lay all around, he let his eyes adjust to it. the grounds stretched into woods at the back, he could hear the sound of water to his right... the river. the helipad was where it had always been, in the far right corner of the property. he pivoted slowly in the direction of the house, it was to the left he knew, even if the night wouldn't let him see anything clearly.

the first silhouetted spire came into view, a rush in his throat made him draw in his breath. the muscles in his gut clenched, his diaphragm was taut, as if anticipating an attack. he let his eyes travel further over the barely visible curves and arches. the massive shadowy structure coalesced into view, memory filled in the details.

there was the front door below the main arch at the centre, a series of windows with stained glass ornate tops flanked it on either side. a pathway led to the door through the manicured lawn.

sheesh mahal.

his steps quickened. he could feel the crunch of gravel under his feet.

clouds shifted in the sky, a bright ivory moon lit the night.



***


he pushed open the heavy mahogany door and stepped into the hallway. it cut the night air out, he was enclosed in a cocoon of silence. arnav walked briskly to the wide pavilion ahead, which ran all around the four sides of the central courtyard. he could see the row of pillars along it in the moonlight. there were twenty four in all, six on each side.

he went out onto the mosaic paved courtyard and stood there for a moment. then he inhaled deeply, remembering. trying not to remember.

why had he not reached in time? why had he not started running the moment he felt something was not right? why had he waited? had he not... had he not- his breath became short, constricted, laboured. even after so many years, he couldn't think of that moment without feeling his breath slowly die.

maa had died. he had been too late.

the night was mute and unmoving around him, an indictment in its stubborn quiet. he had known it would be difficult to return, but he hadn't known just how difficult. arnav looking up at the star studded sky above. he willed himself to take control; he would counter the pain, he would not brook it. maa would never come back, his father would always be the weak philanderer he was, and his uncle a charlatan, a thief.

but his sister was innocent. she was a mere child of four when their parents died that treacherous night. later their uncle cheated them out of everything they had. he had promised himself then, he'd get sheesh mahal back for her. it would be her eighteenth birthday present.

arnav exhaled slowly. anjali had no real memory of their home. or maa, or pita ji. to her, arnav was her elder brother, mother and father. she called him badey... elder. she'd be eighteen in a couple of weeks. unbelievable.

a tiny smile played on his lips as he thought of his sibling. the right corner of his lips dipped a little more than the left. an asymmetry his mirror reflected without any kindness, a part of him. his eyes glinted. he swallowed hard, his adam's apple jutted out, an ache in his throat. he had been only fourteen at the time. his maternal grandmother, nani ji, had stepped in and taken over. they had gone to delhi with her and lived there ever since, along with their mother's brother and his wife, their uncle and aunt–mama ji and mami ji– and their son, akash. anjali bullied akash shamelessly. poor akash.
arnav was about to reach for his phone to call anjali when he heard the noise.

he started. what was that?

a sweep of fluttering wings overhead. he looked up involuntarily and saw the pigeons flying out of the eaves.


***


there was the noise again.

a tinkling, bell like. bells? here? arnav frowned.

was he imagining it? how could anyone be here? the main door had been locked. besides no one lived in sheesh mahal. his uncle's agents had assured him of that. he shook his head, it must have been the pigeons.

a shadow moved somewhere. he looked around swiftly, his eyes darted toward the upper floor. the covered balcony with the ornate balustrade and stucco decorations on the ceiling and arches loomed above, with its curiously watchful air. darkness crowded its hollows, moonbeams streamed in at places illuminating a baluster here, a lamp shade or stained glass elsewhere. but all seemed still up there.

arnav craned his neck, peering. right behind his head there was the sound again. arnav didn't turn this time. his head cocked at an angle, eyes narrowed, a feral alertness in him, he tried to gauge what the noise might be, what was its source.

bells, yes, they were bells... he was sure now. he had heard bells like that before. here, in this house...
maa. his mother's anklets used to have a clear happy sound, a jingle of tiny gently swaying round bells, like the pitter patter of raindrops.

his eyes closed at the reminder of that sound, pain shot through him. he swallowed involuntarily, feeling the tightness in his throat. the bells could be heard again, now a longer spell. who was running around the house wearing anklets?

arnav opened his eyes. no, this wasn't his imagination.

he swung on his heels and dashed back into the pavilion, taking care not to make any noise. he let his instincts lead him to the stairs and raced up, two steps at a time.


***


reaching the balcony above, arnav turned blindly to the left, that's where the noise had come from he was quite certain.

something beat furiously close to his ears. wings. a pigeon flew by brushing his cheeks and eyes with its rushing wings. he ran on down the balcony, intent on finding the intruder.

as he turned at the far end of the long marbled stretch, he felt the hit on his chest, it knocked the wind out of him, he almost fell but managed to stay on his feet. his arms shot out and caught hold of whatever it was that had made such violent contact with him. he stood there gasping for breath, his eyes closed.

an instant went by, grabbed by the night and locked away in its opaque embrace.

just an instant, or maybe a fraction of it, a tiny endless piece of an infinitesimal sliver of time.

then the frantic threshing registered. arnav realised the thing he was holding was moving constantly and with considerable force. what was it?

he opened his eyes and frowned darkly at it, his anger mounting. his lips had already tightened as he glared at the object. he wasn't sure what he noticed first though, the eyes or the volley of breaths.
large iridescent irises were looking at him angrily. or were they terrified?

it was a girl.

a woman, in fact.

arnav stared at her dumbfounded.

a woman? what was she doing here?

he felt her breath on him; on his neck and chin; warm, stirred up. she was breathing fast and she was pushing hard against him. arnav was still trying to collect his thoughts. who could she possibly be? why was she here?

he noticed his hands were grasping her tightly, he could feel her bones through the fabric of her clothes. his left hand was on the small of her back, his right hand was clamped on her left arm and was twisting it behind her.

she made an incoherent, vicious sound and tried to jerk away from him.

he caught hold of her shoulders none too gently and shook her as he bit out through clenched teeth, "who the hell are you?!"

she didn't answer. instead she wriggled desperately and tried to wrench herself free, but he was not letting go.

"i said who... are... you?!" arnav repeated in a guttural voice, pausing menacingly between each word.

a thought struck him and he could feel a surge of anger ricochet through him. his uncle. was this woman part of some game his uncle was playing? a plant? here to sabotage his possession of sheesh mahal? arnav's anger and instinct came to a decision.

he tightened his grip on her shoulders and thrust his face close to her, his lips drawn back in a sinister grimace, eyes glowing with chilling fury.

she drew back and strained against him, trying to get away. he pushed his face further toward hers, his rage scalding.

"who... sent... you? ANSWER ME DAMMIT!" his hoarse voice rang out and echoed off the bare walls and  surfaces of the empty mansion clothed in darkness.

the girl flinched. her eyes widened and grew more opalescent. her body began to tremble. he could feel her shoulders shake; she has such fragile, small bones, he thought taken aback. and what was that pounding he could hear? it was getting louder, almost deafening. he felt his mouth go slightly dry. what was he sensing? danger?

he saw her open her lips... why were they shimmering?... she took a slow breath, tilting her head up till it went all the way back, till he could see the arch of her dark eyebrows in the moonlight, the bridge of her sharp nose, the curve of her upper lip... her quivering chin... the long column of her neck...

arnav waited. the pounding was louder now. what was it?

suddenly he knew what it was. his eyes were wary as he looked down. he saw their bodies touching, almost fused near the chest; the pounding was coming from there. it was heart beats.
how could heart beats be so loud?

he could feel them racing against his sternum, striking the inner walls of his chest cavity, riding up his throat. whose heart beats were these? his? or were they hers? he had the strangest sensation of drowning for a moment. running... he was running... but he knew he wouldn't reach in time.
he felt a jolt... it was her. the girl. the woman.

she was pushing him back with all her might. as the force with which she resisted scaled and overcame his hold, she lost balance and surged toward him, her face coming up close to him, her breath on his eyelids and cheeks.

then she heaved and thrust him back with both her hands, and kicked him on the shin. the pain made him wince and her shoulders slipped out of his grip. a cascade of shimmery fabric; a skirmish of anger, surprise, and velocity... and she was gone. he turned swiftly and lunged to catch her, but she was quicker. his feet moved of their own accord, giving chase. he could hear the sound again of those wretched bells as she fled. by the time he reached the main door, she had disappeared.

he stood there, dazed and furious. the woman had sensed his distraction and taken advantage of the moment. his opponent had got the better of him. arnav didn't like that. he didn't like that at all. he looked out into the night and up at the starlit sky.

"dammit!" he hurled at his invisible opponent under his breath.

arnav turned and went back into sheesh mahal.

he had to know who this woman was. she couldn't get away so easily. he retraced his steps all the way back to where she had bounded into him. he squinted at the balustrade, the floor, searching for what he wasn't sure. he took a step, what was that under his foot? he prodded with his shoe.
there was the noise again.

arnav bent down and touched the object. he lifted it up slowly, wondering what it was. it was a delicate strand of silver he saw, there were tiny clusters of round bells hanging from it. it was an anklet. he raised it further up to examine it more closely in the moonlight. a frown creased his forehead.

such a small insignificant little thing. but that's all that was needed. it wasn't easy to defeat arnav singh raizada; a smile began to tilt his lips; an almost meditative malevolence entered his eyes. his adversary would have to return. and this time, she wouldn't get away.
he felt the thrill of a win in his gut. his heart beat accelerated.


***


the girl was pelting down the path leading to her house. it wasn't too far. she had climbed in through the window at the back as usual to feed the pigeons. she'd gotten late because they'd gone to the fair today. she shivered at the thought of the intruder. no one lived in sheesh mahal... so, who was that man? or maybe he wasn't a man at all. he was... he was... she almost screamed at the thought. was he a ghost? was he a... m... m... monster??

she folded her hands together in supplication as she ran.

"hey devi maiyya" she prayed fervently to her goddess, "save me! save me!"

but what was that? something was not right. she stopped and looked down at her feet. where was the anklet on her left leg?!!! was it lying somewhere on the road... or perhaps it had fallen off in sheesh mahal??

the girl could hear her heart beat thudding against her rib cage, speeding up.





............................................................................................................................................
a cataclysmic meeting. i just felt like intruding upon that. arnav singh raizada and khushi kumari gupta were on my mind. started writing this one shot months ago, but only the other day it all started coming together. so i decided to give myself a birthday treat. hope you had fun reading it. i have no idea if this is the preamble to a longer story. for now, it's this... the meeting. the collision. the cessation of all normalcy.

  

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