episode 56 she's here

quick thoughts on 56

during puja hour, a grandson seeks out a grandma. he needs her to be her usual self, loving, forgiving, the elder. without her in a state of calm, he knows his sister's anniversary party would just not feel right, no matter how perfect his arrangements. he needs his nani ji to feel like nani ji. otherwise he can't really function well, nor actually, can she.

  

"main janta hoon hamare ghar ke jo halat..." hesitation??? did asr just sort of hesitate? how sweet. "...hain... i mean... aapke aur mere beech ki jo tension hai." i know the situation at home... i mean... the tension between you and me...

a contrite look, an even air, no bristling bits, the younger to the elder.

"i know what's happening in the house, but despite that..., " his lovely nani cuts in, and then with a regal air, "hum ee ghar ke bade hain... i am the elder of the family... which is why after much thinking i've decided that tomorrow we shall neither fight nor..."

"this is what you came to talk about..." sweetest nod from grandson and hint of smile that spoke oceans from grandma... emotions and their meaning in a relationship. you can sense each other. he too came because he knew nani ji would listen.

he looks on, a streak of admiration in his gaze now... yes, there is much to learn from this woman.

"humri payal ke chhamchham se hoti hai... ka hai na manorama ka time pe taiyyar hona muskil hi nahi, namumkin hai." the ringing of my payals makes everything... thing is, it's not only difficult for manorama to be ready on time, it's impossible.

to not like this crazy coot mano darling is not merely difficult, it's impossible i say. utkarsha naik brought so much to this off the wall, pretty strange character. layers here too. if only the makers had stayed with original tale, might have got a look at mama ji, mami ji lau ishtory, ah, maybe in the sequel?

at last the creatives find the perfect way to show shyam. why not carry on like this. think we were all in the same state when he threw the anniversary gift saree around his wife's head and then imagined it was khushi he was looking at adoringly. felt like sickness, sexual predation, and a complete desecration of khushi's innocence all at one. and did they just make his hair fly a la asr khushi rabba vey? can't forgive.

"arre shantivan, jahan raizada house hai..."

 
is their no end to the poor girl's troubles? how she resisted this meeting again. something in her could neither stop thinking of him, nor run away from him (no matter how much she thought she wanted to). all these awful feelings he aroused in her. some she understood, but what about the ones she didn't. that's what i believe caused this level of panic.

she walks in.. he's on the phone... he pauses, eyes looking up... a breeze rises... reaches her, she senses something... piano notes traipse in... hey hey, he lets the phone leave his ears, constantly on it since yesterday as though his mind must be kept busy, even while talking to la it was stuck to his ear, but now... she steps and looks aware... rabba vey...

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i'm waiting

ears that stick out, eyes that speak, lips that lopside... frown that makes the heart lose moorings... behind the anger something gentle and flowing, beside the sweetness a storm of all maleness, dark chocolate, musky evening air, blazing sun that makes you squint... where is this actor, this character, this man.

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episode 28 touch me

in the silence, something seeped into him and all he could do was be its captive. his hands moved without volition, almost as though pulled by a magnet toward her face. he had no idea what he was doing, just that he had to do this. for she had touched him already. with her tear.

"touch has memory."
~~~ john keats ~~~

 
a sense was awakened today. touch. physical, emotional, in the gut, in the heart. he thrust her back against a huge drum of some sort, wanting to calm her, and himself perhaps too. the searing storm had entered both, and swirled dangerously. he had no idea things were in such a state, he said. as he watched, her face spoke fire, anger, transiting to pain and surprisingly almost a plea for mercy; he hadn't realised how hard he was holding her wrist. a tear formed and fell.

all through played rabba vey in the layer beyond, speaking of connection beyond words beyond logic beyond the limits of our reality, even when there was anger, when everything hurt, there was no looking back. sight had made the crack in the fortress wall, sound of her name revealed how hard it had hit, now touch smashed a rampart. beautiful direction and feel for the moment. tremulous, strains of rabba vey played on.

a glistening pearl on his hand. then another. like his first, then second call: khushi.

as though first drops of rain on parched earth. and they flooded his heart. stronger than an ocean, swifter than the rain. he freed her wrist and grappled with unknown feelings. those tears, what were they doing to him. his eyes wouldn't, couldn't leave her face.

before he could pull himself together, she passed out. limp, and trusting in his arms. concern and bafflement...

and so it was that his gaze fell on a stray strand of hair and a desire he couldn't understand or overcome took over.

to touch.

to feel that hair and tuck it behind that ear, to stroke a cheek, and then another? why, asr, why? he had no answer. he wasn't even thinking. she had let go on him, and he just wanted to be there with her. tender, loving, gentle, sweet, just feeling her innocent skin against his. something beyond him pulled him and kept him there."see how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
o that i were a glove upon that hand,
that i might touch that cheek!"~~~ romeo's soliloquy, william shakespeare

he lifted his hand and did as he felt compelled to. i felt my breath stay still as this most intoxicating sequence unfolded.

later he would pick her up in his arms, cradle her like a child, something precious, and take her to his suv, then her home. there, he'd be greeted by a sister's wrath, and an aunt's curses; insulted, shown the door. yet all he'd know is that she held on to his shirt, that he had to be gentle with her, that he couldn't just leave without knowing she was alright. he'd notice his finger marks on her wrist, and the cut on the other, her blood, red, deep, alive in that ugly gash.

he'd been responsible for that too.

someone called shyam would make him wonder. was he thinking this is a man important to her? did he not like it? in the car, a broken bangle, she'd left behind a memory for him, and then he'd see the wound on his palm. his blood, red, deep, alive. had their blood touched?

                           

a dupatta once had billowed with abandon and caressed his face, now it streamed out and marked memories, catching the tale in its folds. i listened, captivated. the makers of this story had a strange passion to tell it well, take it deeper than the idiot box's measurements and reach. their simple devices to cross into another dimension, one beyond the senses five: a churi, a dupatta, a jalebi, a couch.. among them the dupatta so elegant, so eloquent. romantic, unheeding of good sense, going to forbidden places and touching eternity whenever it wished.

the episode was ballet like, musical, and a song just kept coming to me. listen to it while you read, might be more fun.

 credit: uploader 

g.u.e.s.t.h.o.u.s.e.  e.p.i.s.o.d.e.s

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episode 174 the kiss has landed

 

a chat with my friend indu had us talking at length about the poolside kiss:

he did mark her... he took her as it were. no more playing with him, saying i worry for you one minute, then denying she does, then smiling too sweetly at nk, he can take many things, he is tough and strong and yet, this feeling for this girl... it possesses him though he doesn't know why... not yet at least. just a throb in his body, a desire in his mind, a wish in his hands to get her, now. no way is she allowed to think of any man but him. smile at another? arnav singh raizada ko kissi ladki se koi faraq nahin padta... and yet.

oh the game this feeling plays with him... till he must play it with her... why are you so scared? he asks. was a part in him scared too, which he would of course not ever see... such a powerful fundamental feeling, has he ever had it for a girl? for anyone?

the extremely subtle and superbly sensuous play of love and desire by the pool, heady. he had come knowing he would do something right there to let her know she was his and no one else's. he was calm and cool on the surface, like the water, underneath was turbulence. he expressed it through an amused seeming indifference, a touch of arrogance, but everything said he believed he owned her.

maybe that's why she had to make a bid for her independence again. she can do everything by herself, she needs no one. who was she really trying to convince? there was upheaval in her too ever since that moment he had taken her hand and given her the ear ring, ever since that "hi"... in fact for a long long time she had been in a state of unrest... she had tried her best to cope but with that teri meri the evening before how the dhakdhaks had come screaming back only to be raised to a new pitch with his opening of her hair, his stalking, his intimate touch in a room where they were all by themselves, no audience present. she had persevered to remain calm, but how was it possible... especially when he wouldn't leave her alone...

and how she had worried for him, layers of dormant feelings had raised there head, maybe she had even wondered how she'd live if anything had happened to him... she had fretted so, then he had come and instantly confused and aroused her with his incredible masculine charge... bearing down on her, asking her difficult questions, she had escaped, but not for long

he'd come to the kitchen and asked her about the call...

completely frazzled by her own feelings and his intoxication, trying not to give in, she had concentrated on nk.

little did she know, that would arouse something. an all male territorial instinct. my girl.

now by the little pool where reflections played and much happened, his brown sure arm had appeared suddenly by her ivory skin as she tried to reach a precious thing too far away, a funny hint of a metaphor i thought.

but right now it occurred to me, it had also a curious cadence with that teri meri moment when his arm held hers and slid over her navel... brown and ivory and flowing green that time, now with a touch of playful unreined blue.

somehow you knew something would happen there. it was in his eyes. it was in her fretting.

with or without the shart, khushi kumari gupta would get taken right there right then.

kisses on the lips are considered sensuous, more sexual... but that slow targeted movement of his head, a little bent, eyes gleaming then closing, that almost delicate landing on the highest point of her cheekbone, that leisurely claiming touching of knowing lips to virginal supple skin, the sound of a kiss, the widening of a pair of eyes, the drawing away of a head, then a pause, eyes closed, lips lost in a smile... no kiss on the lips on screen has left me in a slightly crazy state wanting to describe every single aspect of it... even the air that was around them i wanted to know how it wafted. did her ears go hot? did he get a little confused by the feelings that coursed through him? a little taken himself? and the touch of the kiss, its warmth, its wetness, the cool on the skin as a kiss ends and the contact is broken? did she feel his breath right beside the kiss? was he surprised by the tautness of her skin?

all along, coiled in his hand her dupatta... then it breaks free as he lets go. no need perhaps to hold any more... she is his. and even now he has no real idea how much he is hers. the sublime power play of love and desire in its most intoxicating rendition.

how the h did they do this.

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