remember these girls?
and their "honewale jeeja ji", the soon to be brother in law?
okay, as far as i am concerned, please don't award him that jeeja ji title. a certain cretin named after nand kissore has tainted those words forever for me and i thank writers and payal deeply for never calling the rakshas, jeeja ji.
i still giggle idiotically when i think of the goings on of these episodes. and there is a man in them who rivals asr's hold on my imagination. the ankh micholi player o o om prakash ji. khushi's frantic efforts to keep the laad giov in the dark about the brats running about his home, her flawless craziness and panic, don't tell me i'll never see such sanka again.
ipk had a zany, almost unrehearsed sense of fun. an uninhibited outburst of laughter. and writers and actors who got it so right. there was also, i felt, a neat blend of western and typically indian humour getting comfortable with each other, reflecting the current mind state of many urban indians, whether they live in india or elsewhere. at the same time, if you were not from the city even, you'd respond to sanaya's naturally weird khushi with her tenderness and earnestness and pluck. of course, asr's magnetism which cuts across language and many other barriers (currently indonesian girls are in a state apparently over this sutied booted khadoos rakshas) is bound to get you. and i am sure no one, no one, can resist the charm of my sweet op.
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