Saturday, 30 December 2017

episode 25 atishoo

atishoo atishoo we all fall down.
caught between two sneezes, episode 25. and a design that moved from light to passion again. perhaps after the last two episodes that had made breathing difficult, it had been decided to give the viewers a respite. because after that, wham, it was mahaepisode time.

this week it became clear that there was an attack on the dimaag man's dil. and try as he might he couldn't slam the gates shut. the enemy had crossed the drawbridge and stood there, one mojri in. yet the valiant asr tried. poor arnav singh raizada. reminded me strangely of poor professor higgins. bit of eliza in nutty and innocent ms kkg certainly, and a bit of higgins's crusty matter of factness in asr.

at the first sneeze, khushi managed to make a mess of lighting the candle on payal's cake, shyam offered his kind help, ugh. and everything went gentle, sweet, lilting then on, bua ji's pointed remarks the only riff of nastiness, a perfect accent. between bua ji and mami ji they make sure the sweetness level never exceeds a certain limit, good for our health the two extreme aunts. but what's this bua ji, cake for nandkissore? hai re, aren't there eggs in it? must say, that cake was a nice touch, even the most desi homes somehow associate birthday with the phoren concept of cake.

on the other side seethed the man under siege, as he paced up and down haldi doodh in hand. a lovely desi touch to the angry young cosmopolitan man. he's looking for a way to make sure she doesn't get chain ki saans. he must get her out of his mind, his life, he must get her to resign. type me a million letters on rickety typewriter now and come and give it to me seven am tomorrow. as he makes his unreasonable demand, the mercury rises just a bit, then again back to calm and cool. and shyam leering at jhalli while she clickety clacks the night away, cursing the rakshas with three names every time she comes up for air.

rakshas in the meantime is in bed, first time i'm seeing him there and looking away is impossible. however, sleep eludes him. only thoughts of her. try as he might, no use, she's there. now turning around, innocent alluring beautiful in red. and now in the rain, shivering, soaked to the bone, trembling; he wants to protect her. toss, turn, and toss some more. poor asr. life just ain't fair.

morning brings bright and competent khushi in sunny yellow churidar kameez edged with gota, to rm. the humour level is up, khushi's expression upon making an unthinkable connection is a clear sign of it. laad governor is the brother of the ladylike anjali ji? what.

and even as the poor girl tries to come to terms with it, the next shock. what the... the man loves to garden. he's poring over his plants, so unlike the man she meets otherwise. she can't seem to process the information.

just at that moment, he turns and seeing her standing there, completely taken aback, he trips on the edge of the pool and falls. but she reaches out instinctively, as does he, and steadies him. no fall. just the perfect first poolside rabba vey.  both gripping the other's arm. this time she notices her hand holding him and lets go.

his eyes start to darken looking into her face, again that searching gaze. then the spell is broken. everything is lighter today though, even him. he's somehow less brusque and peremptory, but taciturn as ever. maybe it's an early morning state of mind, only when he's at home, and before the jacket comes on.

first rabba vey by her tears, the next under a sheet of rain, and now by the pool. water water everywhere. the ocean is never too far, is it.

somehow anjali is a crucial part of this meeting of the two at rm. she will have a major role in their lives no doubt. right now, he's surprised di knows this girl. and despite his insistence and her reluctance, di is not letting her go without having something to eat. it's one of those days and anjali will not give in.

so we come to the dining table and naniji's insistent but loving hospitality, khushi must sit here right next to her where chhotey usually sits. mami ji peppers the scene with her balancing rudenesss in chaste engleesiya. anjali is indulgent. then the man walks in. the jacket is on, and oh does brown work for him.

khushi sees the look and tenses up, now what's coming. 

things would have gone on in this vein if it hadn't been for the second sneeze. they both sneezed at the very same instant. a look at each other across the table. di said bless you to both. maybe they'd recover from the moment quickly.

then nani reminded them of the rain. did khushi get drenched last night like chhotey? the night before she had mentioned the diya, fire, and brought khushi right back to his mind. today she spoke of water, and in a second, heat rushed in. the scene grew dense, the music passionate, tempo rising.
they looked at each other. memories flashed.

in khushi's mind.

in asr's mind.

just the two of them. close, up against each other. he couldn't stop looking. and she kept on asking things unknown.

fan fiction

the unsaid, the unuttered, the moments are drenched in their downpour. two tv actors take you to attraction and leave you soaked, shivering slightly.

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