episode 45 i feel you

   

i can feel you in the pit of my stomach, in the graze on my heart, on the edge of my nerve, you are here.

oh the turmoil of a feeling. how it plays with hard earned equanimity. he had no place for this surge of emotions. this overwhelming need. this chasm in his being. yet here it was and try as he might he couldn't get back to business as usual.

his place of comfort, his office, his absorption in his work that could always shut everything out, failed miserably this time. thoughts of her, sindoor in her eye, he wants to wipe it off, but no, she won't let him, she walks away.

the tenderest notes of rabba vey know what ails him. but not he.

he struggles to let it go. yet again a set of memories. "uss din tumne jo..." he begins, but she never let him finish. her silence bothers him, perhaps even more than her shouting. he can't think any more. he is feeling worn, gripped by this wave of feelings, unable to let it go.
 
he leans back, rests his head, and closes his eyes. maybe he seeks respite or perhaps a little time to dream.
 
she's walking into the office.

as she walks in, she senses something.

and a breeze rises swirling in undertone wrapping around both holding them in its embrace.

... he opens his eyes...

 

she consoles herself, don't worry khushi, it's sunday, no one's here, certainly not that rakshas (through gritted teeth, of course, for she has her own struggle with her own unnamed, unfathomable feelings, why does he come to her mind all the time?)

she enters the office.
he knows.

he knows the girl in his thoughts is now near, just here somewhere. his eyes say he has felt her. he leaves his chair, alert the moment he senses her, moving toward the sensation. he comes to stand at the impressive array of sheer glass windows in his office and looks down. there she is on the lower deck. a bit perturbed, then walking slowly toward her desk, and he watches her.

he watches her standing at the place from where he'd let her fall, he'd challenged her with cool derisive eyes after setting her embarrassing and difficult tasks, he'd hollered "miss gupta!" that terrible day of the guest house.

but today, he stands stock still, silent, just gazing upon her, drinking in it seemed all of her he could, perhaps wondering did he just conjure her up with his incessant thoughts of her. not a word, no movement. just eyes darkening, a whirlpool of emotions swirling in them, a throbbing energy gathering.

   

she hadn't seen him and she walked up to her desk. then in a most melodious segue, he saw her in her filmy red chiffon, hair flying, hurt filling her gaze. and at the very same instant she was thinking of him holding her close in the rain, protective, dependable. she's looking at him and he at her.
she didn't see him walking away, being nasty. he didn't see her turning away, walking away from him.

but you don't let me be, your thoughts roaming free
no barriers no limits, reaching prohibited zones
unprotected territories, you are here.

as her thoughts ended, a visible drooping of shoulders, an exhale of surrender almost, she closed her eyes seeking help. how was she to handle this whole cascade of troubling thoughts. she'd shouted at him, she'd prayed to dm to stop these thoughts, she'd resigned.

and yet... the thoughts of a man whom she couldn't fathom, couldn't forget.

the rustle of breeze rose as if to remind, she looked up, and there he was. hay hay hay... rabba vey, her feelings flowed before she could check them.
              


an instinct about the other had come to stay. he could sense her, she could sense him. again love had taken a step. and turning away was impossible.

what came after that, had to be that and nothing else. two people thrown asunder by a stubborn inexplicable emotion, what could they do when they met? have a reasonable adult conversation? of course not. they had to fight, had to clash. had to meet and touch and feel each other. make love. and perhaps this was the only way, for now. the language of love is not always full of sweet nothings. it took them virtually nothing to turn on the other's nastiest side. in matters of war, they were utter equals, from day one. clear sign of what sort of lovers they were going to be. 

"khushi... mere cabin mein aao... mujhe tum se kuch baat karni hai."

he asked her to come upstairs, he wanted to talk to her. i keep wondering what is it that he wanted to tell her. he'd just asked his girlfriend to move in with him, yet the most urgent conversation he wished to have was with her. 

and she never missed a beat when it came to provoking him, did she? was she really not aware this would get to him? turning away and stalking off completely ignoring him? did she really believe he'd let things be and go back to work quietly? or did she not want him to? "upar mat dekh, khushi, aur arnav singh raizada ki chinta toh bilkul mat kar." but that's all she's been doing of late, thinking of asr. and before going, she did turn and look.

slipping into sanak mode to work off the tension, she talks to herself in the store room. funny line, sanaya really funny yet touching, the best of comedy.

"ab issme humari kya galti hai... hume kya pata tha ki woh laad goverrnor ravivar ko bhi logo ko tang karne ke liye ghar se nikalta hai." can't blame me, how was i to know that this lord governor stirs out sundays even to to get after people.

     

     can you hear the music?


fabulously calibrated quarrel coming up. she's dropped the gauntlet by walking off. he picks it up and comes swiftly down the stairs, charging into the storeroom after her. "tum apne aap ko samajhti kya ho?" who do you think you are... he's livid. he's had it.

she was perched on a stool getting her devi maiyya from a high shelf, she turned shocked and terrified. and she lost balance.

a beautifully shot falling together, him on top of her, but not before he's saved what is important to her and not at all of any relevance to him. her dm. how many things they told each other as they lay like that. you could almost hear it all.

then her phone rang.

but when he got off of her and stuck his hand out in a chivalrous, almost conciliatory, gesture, again she went for a thrust. ignore the hand. his fist balled in anger. tell you, these two.

   
"hum toh yahan ek minute bhi nahin rahna chahte," don't want to stay here a minute longer, her voice is getting hysterical as she talks to shyam. too many feelings.

"bhagne ke alava kuch aata hai tumhe?" what are you capable of other than running away..."waise toh tumhara mooh kabhi band nahin hota, phir ab kyon taala laga hai...  uss din bhi main tumse kuch kah raha tha aur tum bina sune chali gayi... mujhe aisi badtameezi..." usually you never shut up, so why this lock on it now, was about to tell you something the other day but you just left... this sort of lack of manners...

and she walks off ready to leave. he can't take it. he slams the door.

 

"main tum se kuch kah raha hoon, khushi kumari gupta!" 

look at them, one curving almost into the other, so close, and that heightening tension.

"jab main tum se baat kar raha hoon toh chup chap khadi raho aur suno..." when i'm talking to you, stay put...

phone.

she takes the call, but with a violence hitherto unseen he just snatches the phone and throws it with force.

"maine kaha tha na main tumse baat kar raha hoon... let me finish!" (lemme finish has just caused a major heart problem off screen) her eyes well up. and as though a magician had waved a wand, the vicious anger on his face is chased away, instead a concerned, practically contrite look. a need almost to wipe away her tears. yes, har baar her tears had affected him. no matter what the state of his mind or emotion.

when she gathers herself a bit, she is desperate to leave the room. but the door's locked. she runs to the window and opens it. her hands and mouth say one thing, her dupatta says another. perhaps girls in our land have had their mouths sewn up for so long, they need a proxy voice, so devi maiyya and writer conspired to give khushi her dupatta to this end. the happy go lucky dupatta could be as forward, as wanton, as loving, gentle sweet as khushi longed to be perhaps. how it blew out and caressed him yet again.

   
then it wrapped all around his face. he slowly pulled it off of his face, his hair, his shoulders, a darkness in his eyes around a flickering light, felt like lovers making love without knowing that's what they were doing. 

      
he noticed her discomfort. familiar. he handed her fly away friend. arrested looks and emotions in these moments.

    
from a quiet beginning, deep in feelings, the episode climbed the notes steadily to a rousing crescendo of anger out in the open, riddled with desire. yes, that. the soul of the episode. 

desire.

         

i feel you i sense you i want you i know you are near
you are here.

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

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