episode 295 it's all your fault, sab aapki galati

 

haan, hua hai

yeh sab tumhari vajah se hua hai

jab se tum aai ho tabse...

tum meri zindagi mein ayi hi kyun

main tumse mila hi kyun

sab kuch kitna achha tha

aur sabse important baat

di khush thi

sab tumhari galati hai, khushi

kyunki agar tum nahin aati toh shyam aisi harkat nahin karta

yes, it's happened

everything has happened because of you

from the time you've come, since then...

why did you have to come into my life

why did i have to meet you

everything was so good

and the most important thing

di was happy

everything is your fault, khushi

because if you hadn't come, shyam wouldn't have done what he did

episode 295 has some of my favourite moments of ipk... essentially the vicious tirade by asr, that taking out all his frustrations on khushi. frustrations is a weak word here. today what he saw, he possibly had never ever thought he'd have to. and it absolutely shook him up.

di stood there with a strange instrument, a pair of suture scissors or whatever they are called. he stared blankly at her through the blinds covering the glass door. he had been searching for her frantically. now she was here, but what was she doing with that... his eyes moved down, he saw the tray full of surgical steel and suddenly it dawned on him what exactly he was looking at.

before my eyes, a fabulous actor gave everything he had in him i felt, to make a fairly badly conceived moment work. give it meaning, the right feelings... taking it all the way to something that felt real, plausible. and not melodramatic, which was some feat of acting and direction, given that the basic premise spelt melodrama with a very loud bold capital m.

he looked young, vulnerable, helpless, scared, and at the same time determined to set things right. had he felt like that and looked like that on a night many years ago? the youngest member of his family, yet always the one to take on the mantle of the elder, the one who would keep things together, make it all work.

even his beautiful mother had finally cracked under pressure... but arnav singh raizada was not going to... he wouldn't let himself. i felt terrible watching the scene where a younger brother, someone with no experience of pregnancies, children, prenatal angst, nothing, watching his absolutely beloved sister all set to stab her womb with a lethal instrument and kill her baby. he must have instinctively worried for his di... worried that she might have died... and she might have.

he raged at those who tried to touch her and calm her down, little caring they were medical staff. di was his concern... when she was in this state, only he was allowed to hold her, persuade her, love her... love her like only he loved her. "di main,"di main," he almost whimpered as she screamed and showed her anger at last... she was going to take it out on her child. who would love such a child, a child whose father was not respected by anyone in her family.

on the one hand, anjali's warped thinking left me speechless on the other the fabulous emoting of a brother who loved to much, who cared even more and who just wanted to see his sister safe. he tried to tell her, he was there for her, for her baby, but she jerked away, a violence in her which took him aback, shocked him, maybe even frightened him.

instinct is a funny thing.

two thoughts about anjali.

she chose the man she knew in her gut to be more true, more strong and capable of setting things right. she chose chhotey... not yeh bhi na.

later in her room she almost became his child and asked him like an offspring of a father: make everything alright... you always make everything alright, because you can.
humey kya ho gaya hai, hum dono ko kya ho gaya hai?
what's happened to me, what's happened to the two of us?

sab kuch pehle jaise theek  kar do...
make everything the same as before...
tum toh hamesha sab theek kar dete ho.
you make everything alright always.

di... calm down.

chhotey agar tum chahogey na toh sab kuch theek ho sakta hai.
chhotey, if you want, everything can be ok.
 
there too i could have wept for the young man... strong, honest, loving, kind, who wished he could set her world right again, he'd have done it if he could and ironically it's his folly that on another dark night he had actually believed that he could and had hurt the woman he loved like no other to do just that... somewhere tonight again, the same girl would get it.

but before that, the second point about anjali. while i think it is terrible that such a thing should have been written and believe the writer really did not get women, nor respected a woman as an individual... still, if i am to assume that is what anjali did... and let's face it, in life people often do pretty bizarre stuff... then in a way i can only connect it back to a temperament picked up at home and a way of dealing with problems which she may have learnt at home too. their mother's suicide was always a bit hard to take for me. if indeed she is the loving kind woman we get hints of, would she have killed herself upon discovering her husband was with another woman at their home on the night of her only daughter, her firstborn's, wedding? so impulsive that behaviour and so thoughtless. if she did indeed do that, and that's what the story held till the end, then this extreme response... a complete breaking in the face of reality... alas was anjali repeating something she had seen before, responding like her mother when faced with ugly reality? otherwise where or how does such a thought even enter the head? she actually went to a doctor and discussed abortion? khushi was interfering, irritating, sanctimonious, but really what she'd said in no way could have provoked that response, unless you were already prone to such overly emotional and destructive behaviour.
 
kiski wajah se... kisski nazar lag gayi hai
why... because of whom...

anjali implied there was some reason their world was falling apart. as would become her biggest defence i guess, she'd look resolutely away from the truth and blame the stars, nazars, influences, forces negative for all her unhappiness... in her eyes shyam ji had to remain pristine. if that was the tack writers had decided on, i wish they had worked on it well and built a case for anjali's chaotic behaviour instead of never ever developing the theme well, just portraying her as an idiotic waffler. there was a lot of scope for compelling storytelling here i feel, but then i am not the writer of a serial, i don't work on five shows at once, i don't have the pressures these writers had... and yet, i somehow can't help thinking i may have a point here.

i'm really... i 'm really sorry di.

sometimes i cannot believe an actor of this calibre is not required by our television or films and is just away from all screens for nearly two years.

asr was not in the best frame of mind when mami came knocking. and well, one thing led to another and mami was only to happy to let arnav bitwa know it was all phatee sarees's fault. the moment her name was mentioned, his face went alert and of course when he was told khsuhi had actually gone to his sister's room, anger leapt and danced in the all too expressive eyes.

he walked angrily out of his room, something loping, animal in his stance. he found her, caught her arm and yanked her along with him reminding me of all those times he had done it before. this slightly out of control, violent almost way in which he'd drag her, force her to go with him, from that very first meeting... an unkindness in it really and yet today i feel a vulnerability there. as i had the night of the temple. she has no idea of her power over him. and she is somehow today so much a part of his identity. the very thought that she, she of all people, might have in any way been responsible for what he saw happening with di today, is almost like he somewhere were responsible.

he was very angry. he wanted answers. and when he hurled her into their room, locked the door and brought her out to the poolside there was still some semblance of control. he was in a bad state, i should have known that control wouldn't last long, this evening was going toward senseless flying vindictive rage... pressure cooker bursting... a dam collapsing and lashing out at all in its path, unmindful of what it destroyed, pent up crazy feelings blasting through a tiny little crack. and the one to face the music had to be the one for whom your breath races, pelts, the one for whom you forget all inhibition and dance. c'est la vie.

the writer knew though, as he often did when it came to asr's responses.

jab sabne tumhe mana kiya tha toh kya zaroorat thi di ke kamre mein jaane ki?
when everyone had asked you not to, then what was the need to go to di's room?
humne toh sirf...
i had only...

to hell with your sirf!
to hell with your only!
he is angry upset but still within control...

unhe lagta hai yeh sab tumhari vajah se hua hai...
they think it's all happened because of you...

she'd been told explicitly not to... he was beginning to push her for an answer, but was he really pausing to hear one... all his feelings seemed to be coagulating, becoming a choking mass, cutting off thinking.

tum phirbhi unse milne chali gayi? why dammit?
you still went to meet her? why dammit?

hume maaf kar dijiye...
forgive me...

she was taken aback... she really had not meant any harm and she apologised because she knew even though she had not meant it to, great harm had come off her action.

tumhare maafi maangne se kuch change nahin hoga!
your apologising won't change a thing!
and then perhaps from him come the words which is the crux of the problem:

tum soch bhi nahin sakti khushi ki maine aaj di ko kis halat mein dekha hai... sirf main janta hoon what i had to do to stop her.
you can't even imagine, khushi, in what condition i saw di today... only i know what i had to do to stop her.

he was so angry, had he been a little less so, would she have taken him in her arms? soothed him? felt his terror? who is there to make you smile, make you feel better arnav singh... those who always take charge i guess pay this price... people forget they are human too, and vulnerable... not always strong.

agar main sirf ek minute late pahuch ta na, toh...
if i were late by even one minute...

he rounds on her again, what was it that you said that she was forced to do this?

khushi starts to answer... perhaps to tell him she had said nothing that could have triggered this.

but he is not listening, he badgers her with the next question

kya zaroorat thi unke paas jaane ki?
what was the need to go to her?

at last khushi gets a chance to say something. kyunki hum bhi di ki utni parwah karte hain jitni aap karte hain... because i too care for her well being as much as you do. okay, that sounds reasonable. but the next sentence: hum bhi di se utna hi pyaar karte hain jitna aap karte hain... i too love di as much as you love her. sorry, khushi, not okay. bad writing... achhi bahufication attack. this unreal stuff, so not needed. that dialogue was the only thing that did not fit this astoundingly real and in its own way beautiful moment of loving.

hume bhi bura lag raha hai ki yeh sab hamari vajah se hua hai...
i also feel bad that all this happened because of me...

she says that and a demon unleashes in him... all the anger all the helplessness the fear terror everything crashes and congeals and a terrible ugly gussa releases... he lets off steam in the most destructive way imaginable... turning on the one he loves the most... the very thought of her in any way being involved with his di's state increasing that anger...

haan, hua hai...

she looks up, sensing a change.

yeh sab tumhari vajah se hua hai...

his voice rises wildly, echoing. something primal in it. the storm that must come before calm can return.

jab se tum aai ho tabse...

he turns away from her, another classic asr posture... and lets it rip... vulnerability turning to ugly vicious anger. she looks on shocked. an unbelievable moment... but here it is.

tum meri zindagi mein ayi hi kyun... main tumse mila hi kyun... sab kuch kitna achha tha... aur sabse important baat... di khush thi.

yes, before khushi came into their life, he had worked almost single handedly to restore stability, unimaginably blighted by the suicide of his parents and the unconscionable usurping of all the property by his uncle.

bikhar gaya tha, those scattering pearls of episode two were always somewhere reminiscent of the scattering of two young people's lives one night, a night meant to be beautiful. and ever since then he'd done all he could to bring life together again, tie it back. he'd asked for no happiness for himself... just for di. he had not believed there could be happiness for him in this bedard world, he had put up his walls, strengthened his ramparts and sealed off all entrances to his heart. and tried to find harmony, meaning, everything, watching his sister being happy.

this happiness of di's was very very important. and now it's gone. he knows why it's gone, but tonight, rational thinking is not going to get much of a chance, emotions are in disarray.

sab tumhari galati hai, khushi...
it is all your fault, khushi...

(as i looked for a title for this take, a beautiful scene came back to me, he in brown suit, she in orange churidar, the morning of the wedding, he'd walked toward her smiling, smitten... so in love with her... and getting ready to tell her. she had sensed him, dakdhakked and floated along on the courtyard as he'd walked toward her on the verandah, parallel to each other, eyes on each other they'd taken those steps, smiling bemused, till the cow ate all her plates... sab aapki galti hai, she'd accused him immediately... it's all your fault. same words, and what a different situation... yet, not really all that different.)
and then he says the words.

kyunki agar tum nahin aati toh shyam aisi harkat nahin karta. because if you hadn't come, shyam would not have done what he did.
 
the unkindest words of all. cruel. unthinking, utterly erroneous and emphatically wrong. arnav singh raizada's temper again getting the better of him. unforgivable.

khushi looks up, everything in her falls apart i am sure at that instant. yes, it does.

silence... as the words are allowed to seep in and damage and damage some more. then.

di aaj bhi pehli ki tarah khush hoti
di would be happy today as she was before.

it's the biggest mistake in my life, khushi kumari gupta,
kash main tumse kabhi milahi nahin hotait's the biggest mistake in my life, khushi kumari gupta,wish i'd never met you.

khushi sits down by the pool, dazed, stricken, struggling to make some sense of it, hurting horribly and every word plays back.

he walks away and of course goes driving in the dark. the suv, alas now only from stock shots, his ultimate refuge.

and the thoughts roam in him. first the memories of di in that hospital, onto the recurring memory of her wedding and the gunshot. he remembers nani's words, mami's accusations about phatee saree.

and suddenly a completely different memory, he hears his own words... khushi, rona band karo... a beautiful call of the heart... khushi, i love you.

khushi runs and hugs him that very first time, and they are falling among packing cases holding each other, a boundless need, she is protecting him from  a thorn, she is falling before his eyes as he struggles to free himself... he is trying to revive her.

a series of memories of the woman whose happiness is equally important to him as di's, maybe even more.

a girl without whom he can't live. and she's the one he has just said all those things to.
perhaps the screaming and the being vicious and the driving has eased his emotions a bit, for at last, there seems to be a return to sanity and his heart. love always finds a way to nudge its way in through everything, even when one is right to be angry. what is this hold over the heart an emotion has, always perplexes me, and amazes. and once it returns to the heart, it seems to almost magically drive the terrible thoughts, accusations, counter accusations, everything, away.

he of course stopped the car as he always does, this time remorse welling in him and an anguish.dammit.

that one word seemed to say it all. barun sobti took that word to its moment and held it there... an instant became indelible.

i personally felt the voiceover: yeh maine kya kar diya... mujhe abhi ghar jaana hoga, was added later and was unnecessary. what i did like in terms of telling a story, though they were slightly obvious ploys, was the mirroring of actions. him carrying di as he always carries khushi. anjali holding his hand and stopping him from leaving her after he has laid her on the bed, exactly as khushi had. both needing him to be strong. they helped highlight the position of this character vis a vis the two women he loves and the tension that pervades. he can't live without either, nor can they be without him and yet slowly it is beginning to look like he will have to make a choice. i think his conscience made the choice it had to and he was a man of conscience very strong and abiding, but his heart always knew that now someone else has become the most important person in his life.

i love this fight... i am heartless.

......................

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