telepathy and more

this story pulls me somewhere else, makes me want to flow with it. you are right, its storyteller is different, touched by something way outside the normal span of television narratives. great writers often speak of how a character comes to life and leads the teller, has that happened with the story of ipk? does it call its writers to frontiers unknown and they follow finding the right path through sheer instinct and extreme skill?

"convergence of souls and dreams." beautifully put, priya.

i didn't see a dream there. i saw that flowing of two inseparables toward each other. she stood there on the spot where such dreams had started, a payal clasped on, and thought of him intensely. he lifted his head and left his body without volition as though he'd heard something and looked and there she was, in the colours of the surf, the waves, the ocean, the sky, and he in his pearlescent white went and merged with her. that perfectly poised streak of red on her forehead and the dance of ebb and flow told the tale of a man who longed for his mate, his patni, and woman who grew from a girl to a woman only after he made a mark in her life. the words cascaded in perfect meaning and time stopped meaning anything. only three and a half minutes?

i floated with them for hours. they were in my room last night, i counted my loose white linen shirts, had he taken one of them?

i am so with you on this neo-surreal heightening of the story. it is precisely that. the linking of dreams from her nightmare amid thorns with its scattered pearls, payal, key. we have been touching those clues in reality, in surreality. and why surreality seems not at all absurd is because those who have loved know it isn't.


 
beyond the oceans, beyond the skies, where galaxies swim in endless seas, love takes you there and says, come meet. to flow into the vast embrace of this emotion you have to give hard reality a slip from time to time, for that's where the emotion lives, nurtures, grows; sometimes so much it becomes a story, a story we want to hear again and again. and feel in our lives.

for a while now, ever since the initial attraction between two people started to change colour and enter their beings, till love has found utterance in faraq padta hai and saansey ruk jaygi, we've been to extra real spaces with them. the dreams, the reveries, the hut with its magical trove of required things. i am spellbound by this daring stretch of imagination. grateful that someone was willing to take that risk.

the real world.
 
unlike friday, last night i was comfortable with all. even the see see let me tell you how flashback led narrative with nk. someone at sg's said, how come the cd's were with anjali if arnav was hearing the sfx. true, but i said to myself, maybe shyam bought more than one and by mistake left her cd back at the kidnap cell. i am glad nk is part of the trap, maybe just my protective instinct for khushi. true, he should get into his role a bit more now. he is at the centre of things, can't take things lightly.
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sanaya looked beautiful yesterday. and i don't mean just physically. the girl growing up into a woman that i first witnessed on that walk from anjali's room to arnav and her room straight after his i love you, the one who fearlessly walked into her dream with him, extending her hand and silencing his remorse, she has grown even more into the woman who is his patni, in bangla a lovely word, stree. yes priya, i agree as yet an innocent wife, beautiful isn't it. oh she was definitely there with him today, and even after he returned to the cell and sat down, she took a moment before walking away slowly.

his "khushi!" bridged surreal and the three dimensions that bind us. as she spun around, desperation in her eyes, she was a wife who can hear the call as she lands back in reality and their meeting is over for the moment.


 
hitchcock comes to mind sometimes when i look at the kidnap and the planning and plotting. all of this is just red herring, mcguffin, the real story is that pyaar. and of course, sanaya, is classic hitchcock leading lady, cool on the outside, smouldering within. so we had read way back in college. didi ki saut they might have wanted to call it but iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? wanted to get written. so happy the writers didn't resist.

 

 

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