"my soul is full of longing
for the secret of the sea,
and the heart of the great ocean
sends a thrilling pulse through me."
~~~ h w longfellow ~~~
di, yeh yahan kya kar rahi hai!
how the ocean roared today. it lashed out repeatedly, breaking its fury upon its shore. lacerating it, whipping it, punishing it for being there, for mattering, for beginning to enter its inner space, its protected inner waters. go away, get out, never ever come near again. but what's an ocean without its shore. what's a shore without its ocean.
as the ocean churned, nafrat came out first, loads of hate, fear, ugliness, terrible feelings, ones that shook up everyone all around, poisoned the whole environment with its touch. reminded me of the samudra manthan many indian kids grow up hearing of. when the demigods and demons churned the oceans and so much came out of it. lethal, horrid things at first, but finally amrita, the nectar of immortality. could that have been love?
asr is not called arnav, ocean, for nothing.
and today we saw its terrible face. yet it was a part of him, in its own way it had a certain terrifying beauty. there was no game, no twist, nothing unclean in his anger, it was as pristine as he is, came straight from his fear of that thing called love, and expressed itself without chhal or kapat, trick or wiliness. it was what it was.
and once expressed, it brought his infuriated mind back to earth. almost. his anger was part of his nature, made him him. shiva, who was supposed to be the ultimate husband, was not known only for his "goodness." complex character he, lots of anger there too. the expressed sort, in fact he is remembered often in nataraja form, while performing the cosmic dance of destruction that will allow the recreation of the universe. a very deep character conception indeed.
in a funny sort of way as asr's voice hit an all new pitch, as though he was losing control, his very insides unhinging, storm tossed, a note of hysteria in it i could have sworn, i felt his voice rise, and circle wildly in a dance itself, a dance that would wreak havoc.
"matlab? yahan kyun? di, mujhe iss ladki ki shakal bhi nahin dekhni hai... kabhi resignation dene ke liye... kabhi party mein mithai dene ke bahane... pata nahin kaun kaun se bahane karkar yahan aati rahi hai.. aur aaj aap isse yahan lekar aayin hai," voice rising, a falling apart in it. i don't want to see her face, she makes strange excuses to come to my home... you may be taken in by her, but not me...
"main isska asli chehra dekh chuka hoon." i have seen her true face.
she is flummoxed.
"aisi ladki jo paison ke liye kuch bhi kar sakti hai..." she can do anything for money.
everyone shocked. she's stricken at this insult. "khushi kumari gupta... kitni bhi koshish karlo main tumhe apne iraadon mein kamyab nahin hone doonga." try what you like, khushi kumari gupta, i won't let you succeed in your intentions. what intentions? who is this gold digger he knows, that comes up in innuendo again and again? obviously, she was there in his past... in sheesh mahal, the house of mirrors where all the mirrors shattered one day and dreams lay scattered... bikhra... like the pearls on a string snapping. (their first meeting came to mind.) he was relentless, that woman had to be punished, and so the blame fell on a surrogate head.
an innocent head with only hope and clarity in the eyes. she who had returned for her family's sake, requested by his sister to come back and bring peace back to his house was now being told she was after money. yes, she was a deal maker... but all she wanted was the good of those she loved. that, the only profit she played for.
yet, i am glad asr let his anger out. otherwise it would have further confused his emotions. i accept him with all his sides, the good, the nasty, the slappable. unwittingly his di said a pertinent thing, "pad gayi dil mein thandak?" has your heart been cooled? yes, a certain cool will reach his heart, once the heat is out. to create we destroy... to find nectar we first rid the oceans of poison... to feel pyaar we must be prepared to know nafrat. this love's path is through the nafrat. actually, nafrat door jaane na de... the hate also doesn't let you go away, it ties you. and at last it is out there, openly.
her tears shine at the edge of release, glistening, catching light.
"iss ghar mein tumhe apni jagah nahin banane doonga." i won't let you make a place in my home... but it is elsewhere that she makes it...
"ab bas karo"... it's enough.
he is sounding less and less in control. spiraling emotion.
chhotey, listen to me.
no, di. heard enough.
chhotey, ek minute.
"ek minute bhi nahin, nani... iss ladki ke liye main ek minute bhi compromise nahin karoonga...jis ladki ne meri insult ki hai... meri baat katne ki himmat ki hai aur mujhe ulta jawab diya hai, woh aaj mere samne mere hi ghar mein khadi hai." what he didn't mention was the real problem. she has dared to enter a place that is sacrosanct. his dimaag... his mind. she sits there, he has been trying for days to overcome her power there. recently, "uss ladki ke baare mein sochna band karo," be a man, forget her. before that, when it first hit him, the pondering in the rain... am i wrong? no, main sahi hoon. later, a little lost, "yeh kya ho raha hain mujhe..." he must stop her. the ocean must tell the shore to recede... go away. and so just like he has said once before to her, only that time it was his office, now from his home...
"nikal jao mere ghar se.
get ouuut."
as he watches her furious, a tear rolls down her cheek. something begins to change in his gaze.
she leaves. unbearably hurt. even the air around seems to have ceased to breathe.
he stands there looking a bit disoriented, almost sad.
anjali is mad at him. happy now? itna gussa, chhotey?
you've done wrong not by khushi, you did wrong by me... you have thrown her out, you will bring her back.
"main kahin nahin jaaonga, di! woh ladki mujhe iss ghar mein nahin chahiye, and that's final. yeh MERA ghar hai! this is my house." i am not going anywhere and she isn't coming back here. this is MY house.
the dance of destruction peaks. stops. and with anjali's turning away, the first steps toward creation are taken. she walks away, stumbles, falls... di! di!... he rushes to pick her up, but she won't be in his world any more.
he has hurt his sister, kills him more, it does. again he has taken the pot and thrown, destroyed the rose to punish the thorn. two roses this time. arnav singh raizada ka nishana kabhi nahin choogta. asr never misses his mark.
di, darwaza kholo... di, darwaza kholo, please. you know i didn't mean that. di, enough di, please darwaza kholo. please open the door, di, i didn't mean it. nani ji admonishes him. intense his gaze. so much in those dark, clean eyes.
"kal raksha bandhan hai." tomorrow is raksha bandhan.
he's struck. he struggles... hint of sadness and shame on his face. then a disengaging, a slight tightening of jaw...he turns and walks away... asr music.
khushi is taking off her jewellery and throwing them down on the dressing table. she throws her dupatta. she has found a substitute to take her anger out on too. and angry she is. like him, has her temper. just that it isn't an "issue" as it seems to be with him. payal is all concern. and indignant. how could he behave like that. let's go back to lucknow. but before that can happen, another phone call from amma. babu ji is losing his health worrying about the shop.
"hum khushi hain," she says typically taking over the phone from payal, taking over the responsibility of her family always... and then, "hume poora yakin hai ki iss andhere ke baad devi maiya ki jyot ki roshni zaroor aaygi..."
i am convinced after this darkness, dm's flame will surely bring light.
and the bell rings.
he is here.
with an offer. music raises pace and scale, reflecting the turbulence. he can't leave her well alone, he raged in earlier, threw her out, raced toward his sister... then back again, now to her. waters ebbing, flowing, now rushing away, now hurtling back in... a shoreline really emerging through it all.
"hai re nand kissore... aur phir maafi..." has he come to apologise, oh g, wonders bua ji.
"arnav singh raizada kabhi kissise mafi nahin mangta..." asr never asks for forgiveness from anyone, terse interruption.
"main yahan sirf tumhe wapas bulane ke liye aaya hoon..." he has come to call her back for di. many months later he will say "wapas aa jao... mere paas... mere saath," in one of the finest episodes of ipk, august 1 2012, come back with me, episode 310... that time only for himself will he ask. tonight his mind won't let him see that. the poison must be drained first. in fact, the beauty and the beast is another tale that comes to mind again and again. only beauty could see the beauty of her beast. does she see it now? as she stares dumbfounded while he slaps wads of notes down, insulting her further? maybe not consciously... but she is so in tune with her heart, i get the feeling it tells her things that she will turn pages and look at later. for now, not a word from her.
her rakshas is back.. interestingly, change one letter and it becomes rakshak. demon... protector.
the one eye of horus that arshi writes of. the one eye we've seen before... the night of the rain hug, when he gets down from his car... much later, during the escape from kidnappers, right here. also her one eye during ankh micholi mahaepisode. is this all by chance? or are the director, the writer, playing with the theme of protection and protector all along? whatever it is, it gives thought.
"kaafi hai? ya aur rakh doon?" enough? or should i keep more?
one more wad.
"pehle se double hai." it's doubled now.
the insult scorches her skin, she clenches her fist but keeps quiet. "bikhar raha hai" everything is scattering... amma had said, she will not let her family's dreams scatter.
"kal subhe main tumhara intezaar karoonga. aur jaanta hoon ki tum aogi." i'll wait for you tomorrow morning... i know you'll come.
payal barges in, no she won't! tell him we're leaving for lucknow...
khushi stands silent. she can only hear her amma's voice in her head. her dad is falling sick worrying about money, tears in amma's voice. tears in khushi's eyes. two wads of notes. and a bagful of insults.
"what are heavy? sea-sand and sorrow.
what are brief? today and tomorrow.
what are frail? spring blossoms and youth.
what are deep? the ocean and truth."
~~~ christina rosetti ~~~
yes shyam did enter the episode. and since i couldn't yell get ouuut!!! at him, had to tolerate him. he is perhaps the most interesting foil character i've ever scene. asr raves rants screams shouts says awful things but is surf ultra clean. shyam always speaks gentle and sweet (sorry i can only hear the hisss) yet all the detergents of unilever, p&g, nirma combined will not be able to clean this stench, this cretin, oh oh oh.
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caps of 64... get out
caps of 64... see you tomorrow
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