as the music died down and the astonishment turned to applause, reality stepped in. it was time to leave the stage and walk out to people, let the world in. she looked back, tentative... still in shock, still not quite certain as to what happened or how. he walked behind her, she couldn't quite fathom it all... and he? was he a little lost in another world too? he kept moving as though seeking something... she turned to look at him, and there he was... and he noticed her and looked right back, a hint of smile, an appraising look, a question in it?
she
had to leave... somehow she found her way to the room, and shut the
door, then turned and at last all the feelings on her face. she was
frazzled, excited, nervous all at once. she couldn't understand what was
happening to her. in a piece of beautiful writing and direction, the
episode went to its next high after that elevating tango. khushi's
emotions, her state of mind at that assault on her senses, that
beckoning to her heart, that convulsive response of her gut... what was
happening to her. sanaya portrayed a young girl in disarray
impeccably... she who was so ready to be woman... look at what she
remembered... him wrapped around her, his hand on her navel, both
undulating in the closest embrace... and hey devi maiyya what was
that... a sound rose in the room, she clutched her chest.
yes, dhakdhak was back. she had worked so hard to forget it, suppress her acidity forever. she'd almost succeeded. but now, after that dance, after that romance, after the smile in his eyes, the heat in his hands... they were back. his submission had had its way with her. she was yes was his. dhak dhak dhakdhak.
yes, dhakdhak was back. she had worked so hard to forget it, suppress her acidity forever. she'd almost succeeded. but now, after that dance, after that romance, after the smile in his eyes, the heat in his hands... they were back. his submission had had its way with her. she was yes was his. dhak dhak dhakdhak.
as
he was hers. and maybe the realisation was so big he needed to rest a
bit away from all, and return to equilibrium. he went and leaned against
a pillar, a tiredness about him. but rest was denied. the family needed
answers. how? what nahin, what the? what was that... it was nothing.
the matter of fact man was not going to explain things to his slightly
loopy and certainly interfering fam. her partner hadn't come, so he
danced with her... that's all... really? well i am pleased they badgered
him for it got me the slightly cocked eyebrow look, the roll eyes up
edition, the purse lip sexily version (bet he practices that in front of
a mirror, he knows how devastating that downward drag of his lips is, i
know i know). finally, he called it a day with the deadpan,
everything isn't about winning and losing. what! sister almost passed
out, grandmother looked aghast, cousin was now certain this is not his
bhai, nk looked more clueless. not a matter of haar jeet? was this arnav
singh raizada? in a way it was, in a way maybe it wasn't. he seemed to
be in a rush... where was he going?
when she opened the door she was sure it was her sis. and that dhakdhak had to be handled. denied... it was all his fault. who would have thought that laad governor... no she was not going to give in... who did he think he was... makes no faraq to her whatsoever. again, great insight into such unsettling feelings, the claim of desire, the force of love... she had to protest.
and it had to be not jiji but the man who leans like a god, of course.
at some point, all thought, movement, rambling had to cease. this was it. eternity in a grain of sand has been sighted i believe, but in the angle of a body, one shoulder casually against a door, two perfectly tucked hands? the lord of dance, nataraja, had done his cosmic number, destroyed all apathy, and started creating love.
when she opened the door she was sure it was her sis. and that dhakdhak had to be handled. denied... it was all his fault. who would have thought that laad governor... no she was not going to give in... who did he think he was... makes no faraq to her whatsoever. again, great insight into such unsettling feelings, the claim of desire, the force of love... she had to protest.
and it had to be not jiji but the man who leans like a god, of course.
at some point, all thought, movement, rambling had to cease. this was it. eternity in a grain of sand has been sighted i believe, but in the angle of a body, one shoulder casually against a door, two perfectly tucked hands? the lord of dance, nataraja, had done his cosmic number, destroyed all apathy, and started creating love.
episode 170 take my hand... teri meri
......................
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