not cut out for love: chapter 4

        

he snapped open his macbook and started punching keys, in seconds absorbed in work, his brown eyes fixed on the screen, their little movements indicative of a mind at work, assessing, evaluating, pondering. a tiny frown on his forehead as he worked with complete absorption. he had moved back to his window seat across the aisle. the cup of black coffee lay next to him on the wide arm rest. miss rao refilled it quietly every time it emptied.

khushi had sipped her hot sweet tea and felt herself get warmer and somewhat more secure. the plane was not going to drop her off or anything, oh devi maiyya, thanks for always being there for me. but that rakshas? why did he have to hold her hand and say horrible things? as though she couldn't manage to take care of herself. what nonsense. and then the gall to say that she liked to hold his hand... she would show him...

but her thoughts of vengeance were cut short by a sight she'd never seen. the earth down there from up here in the skies.

through the window she could see a layer of fluffy feathery clouds and below them little squares in green, brown red yellow, farm lands, tiny homes and huts, snaking roads and country paths winding through the farms and meadows; was that a little village there, all those thatched rooftops? and a river, gleaming under the setting sun, like a ribbon of gota over the land, making everything sparkle, look pretty.she broke into a grin and said, "dekhiye, ekdam hamare gota ki tarah."

(see, just like my silver trimming.)

he was deep in thought and looked up a bit dazed... what was the problem.

he saw her huge happy grin and felt something lurch erratically in some part of his body. what was that? oh never mind.

"miss gupta, could you please not yell so much, i am trying to get some work done here," his voice was stern and distant.

her face fell immediately, and she looked away. he felt something plunge in some part of him. this was crazy.

he went back to his laptop and scowled at it. he still had no idea why he was here. why he needed to see this girl. all he knew was that the next six months were crucial to business and he couldn't afford to be scattered and unfocussed. if having her around eased the restlessness, so be it.

arnav singh raizada did not spend hours thinking of emotions and feelings. in fact, in his opinion both were highly overrated things, especially all the song and dance about love. romantic love, the thing between a man and a woman that was supposedly way beyond fun, games and physical desire.

he was in fact quite sure this was entirely a concoction of the human imagination, and his sister was its biggest devotee and propagator.

love. a funny sort of smile appeared on his face. really, when would this world grow up.

if there was anything called love, and if it were of any value, his mother would have been a happy woman. and perhaps alive today.

he shut the laptop vehemently. every time did this thought dislodge him deep within, he lost balance, his mind went into a tailspin. fourteen years. long desolate years. without her voice, her smile, the sound of her bangles. he closed his eyes and put his head on the seat back. 

when he opened his eyes, she was standing right in front of him, bending over to take a closer look, as she moved her hand to tuck back a straying lock of hair on her forehead, her pink glass bangles made a tinkling sound...

"aap theek hain, mr raizada!!"

her hazel eyes were full of concern, she was close enough for him to feel her breath on his face, to smell the faint pleasant scent that clung to her. jasmine?

he stared at her without a word, again wandering what he was doing here.

"i'm fine, miss gupta," he replied, then watching her eyes calm down, he couldn't resist, "i hope you enjoyed staring at me, better than your gota wouldn't you say?"

surprise was followed quickly by anger in very hazel eyes. the lips in pale pink tightened, swift turn was taken by angry feet in beaded mojri and all would have gone perfectly if captain raina hadn't hit an air pocket just at that moment.

khushi felt the ground beneath her wobble, a sudden emptying sensation in her stomach, and then she was flying, a curiously weightless feeling... only to land inelegantly on the carpeted cabin floor. completely winded. the suddenness and swiftness of it all stunned her reflexes.

strong hands caught hold of her hands. she looked into dark chocolate eyes, furious dark chocolate eyes.

"why must you always rush before you can barely walk?" came out hissing through clenched teeth. "what was the need to get up from your seat, when you have no idea about planes?!"

he hauled her to her feet and grabbing her left arm with his right hand, started propelling her toward her place.

and the plane passed through heavy clouds, again the ground seemed to shift and khushi tumbled. this time she fell on asr and together they crashed into a seat, he below, she on top of him. it was the seat next to hers.

his arms went around her instinctively. he felt her hurling against him that very first time he'd seen her with her startled, frightened eyes. he inhaled sharply. this was madness. his hands moved over her back, he wanted to stroke her slight body and pull her closer.

he caught hold of her shoulders and pushed her off him.

she was too shaken to feel much at that point. all she knew was that she was now lying on top of this rakshas with her face almost buried in his neck. she could feel and hear his heart beat, and a heat rose from him that tickled her ears, there was an aroma too, like what was it? leather? honey?

suddenly khushi was terribly hungry.

she was about to get up when she felt brutal hands on her shoulder. she found herself looking at his taut face, a nasty edge to his expression.

"miss gupta, please sit where you are supposed to and don't move. d'you understand?" the last three words were barked out harshly.

miss rao appeared like a genie on hearing his raised voice.

was everything alright? 

she saw a frazzled miss gupta at her seat, trying to put on the seat belt and not looking up. she seemed to be hiding her eyes. 

asr was making his way to his seat, where he sat down and went back to his laptop without bothering to look at the concerned stewardess.

silence in the cessna citation, till captain raina announced he was ready to land. 

khushi immediately felt apprehension gripping her. the next moment, a hand with long beautiful fingers came into vision. the terrible man from delhi was sitting next to her, looking straight head, his hand held out.

"nahin chahiye hume," she muttered.

(i don't want.)

the hand remained there.

the captain started descent. within seconds the hand had been grabbed and was held onto tightly. only after the plane had come to a standstill on the tarmac at the indira gandhi international airport at delhi, did soft fair fingers relinquish long brown ones with callouses and their strange air of comfort.

***

as she struggled with a suitcase, trying to get it into the boot of his suv, he turned to her after putting one of her huge bags in, took the suitcase from her without a word and threw it in nonchalantly, then walked around to the front of the car and held the passenger door open. 

khushi stomped to the door and said,"hum khud kar sakte hain," glared at him and got in.

(i can do it myself.)

he said nothing, simply walked over to his side, got in, put on his seat belt, cocked an eyebrow at hers while fixing his, and when he got her attention and she was done with wearing her belt, he turned the ignition and started the car.

he looked back as he reversed and said casually, "tonight you'll stay at my place, we'll fix up something for you tomorrow."

"kya?!!" she turned and stared, "nahin! hum kyun aap ke yahan rahne lagey... hum lakshmi nagar jaayenge, bua ji ke ghar... wahan paani bhi toh band karna hai na!"

(what?!! no, why should i stay with you? i'll go to lakshmi nagar to my aunt's house and i have to turn off the water too!)

"paani? lakshmi nagar? what nonsense." came the crisp reply, one hand manoeuvred the steering wheel while the other rested on the gear stick.

"main nonsense nahin, aap..." she was about to retort, when she saw his eyes, they were looking at her, a dangerous glint in them.

(i am not nonsense, you...)

"don't push your luck," he said in this even cool way sending chills up her spine. khushi decided not to complete her sentence.

"dekhiye, mr raizada..."

"sir, call me 'sir,' that's what my staff calls me."

"theek hai, sir, dekhiye, i have to go to lakshmi nagar to my aunt's place because devi maiyya has made her pipe burst and there's water everywhere which is why i could manage to come to delhi with you. i have to turn that pipe off then sleep there tonight, tomorrow afternoon my bua ji and my jiji will be here, so please drop me there..."

"who is devi maiyya and why is she bursting pipes?" asr was genuinely flummoxed.

"aap devi maiyya ko nahin jaantey? aap bhagwan kaun hain poochh rahe hain?" khushi was too shocked to bother to act cool. this man, really!

(you don't know devi maiyya? you're asking who is god?)

"ah, so devi maiyya is your bhagwan," he smiled slightly looking at the road ahead.

khushi was distracted as she followed his gaze. before her lay wide open avenues with several lanes, cars zipped by, four abreast at times. she's never seen such a thing before, not in lucknow, and the only other places she'd been to outside her hometown were kanpur for jaggi chacha's daughter's wedding and the village near lucknow where her babu ji's family came from and still owned some land... dhanaur. they went there when some distant relative got married or died or there was a big pooja. no chance of wide streets with beautifully marked lanes leading to flyovers and toll gates in either place.

khushi watched entranced, her jaw almost dropping. could roads really be this wide?

"i don't believe in your bhagwan. your bhagwan doesn't make pipes burst, bad maintenance and poor quality materials do," he said it so matter of factly, khushi thought for a second the news channel was on on the radio.

"you don't believe in bhagwan?!! who do you think you are?" the words rushed out before she could stop them.

never had chocolate frozen so quickly. his gaze was icy as he said, "i think you know the answer to that question. especially since i and not your bhagwan will pay you one lakh of rupees every month. and girls like you i believe do understand the meaning of money," there was an insult in his voice which scathed her skin. what is this girls like you and money talk! she really should have let bua ji come in that plane with him.

he could have sat there holding her hand and comforting her, while bua ji yelled, "hai re nandkissore," and tied a red gamchha around her head to contain her apprehension and palpitation.

khushi started giggling at the thought, her fear quite forgotten.

he turned and saw her profile, lips upturned at the corner as she laughed to herself. he had no idea what came over him, he swallowed violently, desperately trying to suppress the desire to lean over and kiss her delicate cheek, push back the locks of hair falling over her forehead, hold her in his arms and feel her laughter against him.

"give me the address," he rasped out abruptly.

***

at lakshmi nagar, when they located buaji's modest single storied home, they found a whole pile of newspapers and rags and old towels and sheets jammed against the front door, obviously some neighbour's attempt at stemming the flow of water. but then this was ganga jamuna saraswati as claimed by bua ji, how could such flotsam and jetsam stanch their spate?

the plumber was waiting outside the house.

completely overriding khushi's protests, asr had called aman, given him the address and told him to send over a good plumber at once. and of course, though aman knew seven in the evening wasn't the ideal time to enthuse a plumber around his skills and means of livelihood, yet he was quite clear as to which man's wrath he was willing to handle.

aman had found a good plumber and dispatched him forthwith.

asr got out of the car, took a look at the water seeping out of the house, "please open the door, miss gupta," he commanded.

she started saying, "hum kar..." then decided to do as he said.

he waited outside while she went in with the plumber. 

"namaste ji, aap madhumati ji ke bhatiji ko lekar aayen hain?" the slightly squeaky voice startled him.

(namaste, have you brought madhumati ji's niece here?)

there was a small man with a large smile standing before him. short, slightly plump, in dark blue overalls. 

"ji i'm happy, sir ji, you know goga ji's assistant..." he nodded his head in the direction of a little shed that had a board with "goga's garage" splashed across it in red and blue, obviously recently painted.

before asr could respond, khushi came flying out of the house, "everything is covered in water inside, the phone isn't working, i think the power is gone, " there was panic in her voice. he wondered why.

"aap sochiye mat, hum electrician le aayenge, abhi theek kaarwa denge..." said the man in overalls.

(don't worry, i'll get an electrician and get it fixed right now.)

khushi looked at him puzzled, then she made the connection, "happy ji!!! aap happy ji hain na? bua ji aap ke baare mein hume bataya hai... aap bahut acchhe hain, bua ji kahti hain, aap log unka kitna khayal rakhte hain...!"

(happy ji!!! you're happy ji, aren't you? bua ji has told us all about you... you are very nice, bua ji says, all of you take such good care of her.)

the plumber came and said, he'd done what he could do at this point. he'd be back the next day to replace the pipe and finish the job; and the job, including labour and materials would cost rupees three hundred.

"three hundred rupees?!!" khushi almost screamed, she'd left lucknow with a princely sum of two hundred rupees. what would she do now!

"fine, kal aake kar lena, ye lo, change madam ko de dena," asr put a thousand rupee note in the plumber's hand without ado and turned to khushi.

(fine, come tomorrow and get it done, here take this, return the change to madam.)

"shall we go?" he asked.

"go? kahan go?" go where? she was totally disoriented... what a day, harrowing, demanding, hectic... first this man's call, an offer of a fortune, then the games to catch that plane, the plane journey, now the water and electricity problems, a whole new city. and a man who completely irritated and confounded her, yet he was the only one a little familiar in this huge sheher. and why did he scowl all the time?

he looked at her for a second, turned to happy ji and said, "she will come back tomorrow after her aunt and sister arrive, no need to fix the electricity right now."

then he walked up to her, held her elbow and said, "come."

she felt his fingers on her skin, cool and assuring they felt. she took a deep breath and did as he bid.

***

he drove quietly, it was completely dark now. she sat, a little tense, next to him. her hands gripped the seat belt.

he dialed a number on his phone and spoke on his blue tooth, the device sitting on his ear from the moment they'd arrived. "di, yes, we're here... yes, she will stay with us tonight, yes, di, she... bye," he spoke briskly and disconnected.

so he had an elder sister who lived with him. she was going to stay in his house where there were others, certainly a woman, his sister. oh devi maiyya was really great. khushi relaxed slowly, and let her head go back and rest on the seat.

he accelerated. tomorrow was an exciting day, the bali project was starting. he smiled to himself. good work was always exhilarating.

created by sunshine80

 


index

chapter 5


 

two people

their last few shots together. no double, no ramanchi, just asr and khushi, and that thing between them. the thing that kept me awake at nights, made my mind into putty, and put a grin deep inside.

episodes 396/397/398 the end

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farewell episodes

episode rambles 

fanfiction

jashn in red and brown... iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? ek jashan.

i opened facebook this morning and there were these two shots.

my breath almost stopped. i can't explain even to myself what i feel when i see something like this. some things are lodged too deep within, embedded in one's sinew, heart, spleen, who knows where... 

the man in brown. the girl in red. no, she was never the woman in red... always girl, always the best thing about that word... and he, never anything but a man. the man. 

only to her maybe he'd show the boy in him. only with him will the woman in her suddenly kindle, incandescent.. red.

the night of diwali of course came and lit up a corner. that's the night i had fallen hook, line, and bated ragged breath for them, for a show... i couldn't believe it sitting there that midnight that a thing going on on a screen ten feet away could do this to me.

that night he was in grey. she in red. and no one made red like her. a girl backing away, her crazy uncontrollable not yet understood longing glazing her eyes, calling out to him, her lips trembling in the palest pink, desire darker than red.

the night of brown was the one where i realised i am looking here not only at a gorgeous handsome man but a fine actor, an incredible one, that movement of emotion across his eyes, his slowly slackening jaw; an actor with such keenness, such potential. i thought of the word... thespian. swear. that was the night of the terrace. or what we came to call mu. he wore brown there standing at the door of a dark treacherous terrace, losing his mind.

breathing has really become hard. wonder what we shall see on those ipkknd ek jashan episodes being announced starting 24 november... on tuesdays and saturdays it seems. i hear there are eight episodes and one more on the making of ipk. no idea really. what will be will be. 

but what is... is this moment of looking at these pictures and feeling them enter me.

gosh, he looks so asr. yeah, a slight heavier stubble in a french cut beard sort of style. it's been three years, asr is always trendy... bet that look is in. but no one makes it more aaargh than asr of course. and khushi... doesn't the hairstyle remind you of the day she cooked frantically, looking fabulous, and he walked down the verandah gazing at her with that smitten smile, again in brown. and she felt her dhakdhak coming at her out of nowhere, clutched her heart and said, sab aapki galati hai. yeah, it's all your fault. really. and there's no jashn really like this galati.


pictures credit uploader. ps: still wondering if i should spell the j word jashan or jashn. maybe i'll use both... they are so classic and yet here and now, sp deep and yet dancing on my skin... so why not both spellings, the written and the colloquially spoken, what.

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i p k k n d ek jashn

episode rambles

fanfiction

episode 18 khushi's bros

"ye chappal hai ya padosi ka kutta... jab dekho kat.ta rahta hai." is this a slipper or the neighbour's dog... bites me all the time.

this khushi is the one i lau. 

and such a nice opening on tu hi bata; four people, young, with their own dreams hopes desires fears sadness, on a balmy evening of breeze and some showers. beautiful break from all the helter skelter of life.

tu hi bata mere maula, tu hi bata mere rabba     

                     

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 lovely episode. khushi finds long lost brothers. :)

meanie

                                                                        

she really brought out the worst in him, didn't she? something about her was just too much to take. he was of course unused to defiance and anyone meeting him straight in the eye and taking him on. but it was not only that, it never was. how delightful this meanness of the man. he has sized her up, he knows she can't win this challenge, laughter bursting inside him. 

buffy (the one that slayed vampires)

but he doesn't know madam. she ain't budgin'. then one look at the ganjeedhari hunks and madam's hawa is phus. "khushi kumari gupta!" he calls out for the first time, and again offers her escape. what? never. off trots the vampire slayer into the den of men, armed with measuring tape, dhaga, and a sweet sisterly spiel. how wily she is in choosing THE ONE.  wouldn't you say the second one from the right had some chance of being hero, poor boy. 

you know, this khushi in those awful clothes, funny choti, mojri, not too bothered with her looks, truly sanka, that's the one i'll never forget. she said she will do and not die if she fails, but do some more. attitude. 

what did she say: zalim zamaane ki chhoti behen dushman duniya? wicked world's younger sis unkind universe (i went for the alliteration rather than exact meaning in my translation). where did they take all her wondrous dialogues and hide them? she was weird, crazy, sometimes very passionate and idealistic, but never foolish.

goofy

 love shows another colour the other side of episode. sweet akash sits clutching chutney pink dupatta, smiling vacantly, day dreaming about "her". only akash could be this silly and not invite a tight slap from me. of course, appeasing sharp cookie mano is another thing. what a deadly scrutiny by motherwa. no falling in love, no letting go of power over bitwa. aw she wore a georgette i think, just this once a break to the gold adorned banarsis, paithanis, et al. the contrast between the rakshas and his human cousin was always fun to watch. good acting, how rare, and how much i am missing it these days. hope akshay lands a nice role somewhere too. all ipk cast i felt had loads of talent. in this episode, the expression on payal's face when she remembers a marriage broken is just a small glimpse of deepali's range.

sis

"aap mujhe bana rahe ho," you're pulling my leg, easier to make a couture dress out of that dupatta, bhai. anjali, laughing, joking, sweetly interfering, happy. no damn idea what's happening in her life. in that context, her belief that "banaaoing" her is not easy is sort of sad, almost cruel.

stories in many lives are taking shape through dialogues, meetings, layer by layer. shyam has come to stay at bua ji's. bua ji makes the biggest mistake of her life carried away by affinity to a city and one act of kindness from a total stranger. he manipulates her innocent trust, perhaps there was a hint of a mother who never had children, specially a son, in that unquestioning trust she gives him. a lonely old widow that yearned for a son to turn to, just what shyam knows what to do with. he fooled everyone, even asr. but just look at payal here, some antenna up. she is not buying into him and his story. will watch keenly to see if she ever got taken in completely. 

 what a girl moment

this scene has a relationship, an intimacy, a freedom, and a sense of happiness that's just lovely and lifelike. never had a sister, but that fall back into bed and day dream with a person close to your heart... a girl... with whom you can speak of your deepest fantasy... nice. in a way that's what i'm doing half the time here with all of you.

might be an oft used technique: the slow dissolve across faces of similar magnification, but in this instance was apt. my eyes paused and so did my hand on the mouse. look at her merging into him almost. laughing, free, windblown. while he, silent, inert, intense, looking upward, thinking of his mother? so many layers and connections i felt here. in another universe where lovers meet, you don't see with just your eyes, your spirit observes things the eye never caught.

the happy virus
i caught the happy virus last night
when i was out singing beneath the stars.
it is remarkably contagious -
so kiss me.
~~~ hafiz ~~~

had so much fun watching then wondering about this episode.

......

"kabhi kabhi to nahin par abhi abhi mere dil mein yeh khayal aaya hai,

ki kash tumhara job mera hota" hyuk hyuk.
 
 

office episodes
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episode rambles
fan fiction

the second episode

a half smile on shashi ji's face as we hear the sound of khushi's scooter. touched me, that's father daughter, that's "sneha," the love a parent feels for a child. first strokes of khushi babu ji ties he

the first "tum theek ho," from a mother to her child. i've often wondered if those three words were some sort of sign language or talisman for the show.

of course the famous snapping of pearl dori, the first advance and retreat, the first "aukaat," and the beginning of a thread of thought that would culminate in a spectacular fight in the guest house one beautiful night: stop talking like that about my sister, what if someone spoke like that about your sister...

khushi, asr, babuji, amma, bua ji, payal, all characters opening up, perfect lines in just the right language. to understand bua ji, i need to learn some colloquial hindi. hansi-thatta, bahar udham machai... reminds me of bangla, obviously u.p. and bengal had much movement of people between them and language traveled. or whatever, but really colourful, those names she calls khushi.

amma is not her biological mother, and yet she is her real mother to khushi. the whole ipk thing of people not conventionally "related" but tied to each other in a relationship of the heart begins to be told.

wonderful second watch. highly emotional. late for work. 

my first thoughts on episode two. the full take is here...

episode 2 still breathless

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n i s h a n a   e p i s o d e s
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episode rambles

fan fiction

episode 181 walk with me

he paces in his room, bothered. and he remembers siren, ambulance, "stop!" "khushi!! khushi!!!"

it usually happens in the oddest of places, at least that's what i've found. the major realisations of our lives, the big ones, that define us, how unexpected is the way they come, and the place and moment when things hit you.

the writers' and director's instincts here are unerring. and as usual the actor raises it to the level of breathtaking.

happened to him as he bent to pick up a file... an ordinary, everyday moment, yet suddenly it took him on an extraordinary ride and landed him on another planet. the planet of khushi, with an exhale rustling up the "kh" every time, a sense of happiness in the very way the name of the lover is said.

something about asr reminds me of, and don't ask me why, the little prince. the boy full of wonder who was in love with a capricious rose and who had an innocence and wonder in his heart that would confuse and unsettle adults. one of the most tender books i've read. forgotten a lot, but goodreads gave me this long quote... want to put it here. i am trying to feel the wonder in his mind, as he goes through the moments of realisation.

and once he does, his feelings for her are so like the little prince's for his rose. when i think how that must have been wrenched and roiled on that terrace.

anyway... the quote:

the little prince went away, to look again at the roses.

"you're not at all like my rose," he said.

"as yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one.

you're like my fox when i first knew him.

he was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.

but i have made a friend, and now he's unique in all the world."

and the roses were very much embarrassed.

"You're beautiful, but you're empty," he went on. "one could not die for you.

to be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you - the rose that belongs to me. but in herself alone she's more important

than all the hundreds of you other roses:

because it is she that i have watered;

because it is she that i have put under the glass globe;

because it is for her that i've killed the caterpillars

(except the two or three we saved to become butterflies);

because it is she that i have listened to, when she grumbled,

or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing.

because she is MY rose."

~~~ antoine de st. exupery ~~~

flashbacks in his mind... khushi is shouting at him, "agar aisa hua bhi hota, humara hi accident hota, aapko kya faraq padta..

he hollers back, "of course faraq padta hai dammit."

a swallow at the images, it's all beginning to come together, he steps back and lets go... sitting back on his lounger. his eyes close and his sister's words come to him. i liked the fact that the only person who matters to him emotionally in this world, introduces the idea. in the fit of romance, fam is often forgotten, but ipk remembered fam gives colour and depth to romance. a selfish little only you me world gets suffocating and mean. love doesn't thrive there. theirs is a private world but it never shuts the doors and windows to a larger world with circles and networks of emotions and ties.

"dekhna jis din tumhare zindagi mein woh ladki aaygi na... jisske bina tumhari dhakane ruk jaaygi... jisske bina tum jee nahin paoge... tumhe aisa lagega agar woh tumhe na mili na.. toh tumhari saansey hi ruk jaygi..."

his sister says things he has always found easy to shrug off with eyes rolling and laughter, well she does sound a bit batty, but she speaks the truth... if you believe in the kind of love i do believe in, that is...

you'll see some day that girl will come without whom your heartbeat will stop... without whom you won't be able to live... you'll feel as though if you can't have her, your breathing will cease.

okay, stomach holding laughter stuff, but as i said, sach not jhoot. baat sirf vishwas ki nahin hai, baat sach hai. sorry khushi ji, stole your lines.

director goes for a lovely sound bridge and the girl his sis had said would arrive one day is walking around in her yard, in a dreamy happy mood among swaying sarees hung out on the clotheslines she walks outside, hair flying, pensive, a wind on the rise.

he walks up to his window... the windows of his room, place of reverie... he reflects on things here, sometimes staring at the water outside. here it had to really hit him. lovely direction. especially the exact moment, we see him in his reflection, against black, his lip dragging down in the image as it always does... a certain power to his face with that flaw, that asymmetry.

our face in the mirror, a sort of confrontation with our inner selves. in that instant he touches her with his feelings and connects with his own self too... or so i felt. he stopped running, he leveled. once and for all.

he heard the dil ki dhadkane his sister spoke of at last... dhak dhak dhak dhak... he saw his own reflection, a funny sort of concern, what's this... and then the realisation...

just one word... "khushi!"

it seemed to merge with a gust of wind.

spectacular moment wrought by an actor.

the wind rose and carried the message to her... anyone seen pocahontas? the wrap of breeze and leaves?

she clutched her heart. it hit her straight there. she's disturbed, it's such a loud thudding now... hints of telepathy already here. actually they've often felt same things at the same time. happens in many love stories... who would have thought they'd take all that and convert it to a magical telepathic conversation one day and two actors would just go all out to make us believe this actually happened. lovely.

there's no denying any more, he swallows.

she thinks of him holding her bangles, caressing them, owning them, owning him... he's yelling at her, who do you think you are... i thought... i thought i lost you... what if i lost you...

she's bewildered, though within her a woman already has all the answers, but her conscious i guess has to grow and evolve to what the subconscious has grasped and processed. again that moment of realisation coming when it is time for it to come.

"woh itna gussa kyun the... aur humari itni fiqr..."

why was he so angry? and so much concern for me?

she thinks of him shouting at her out of tremendous concern, why did you try those bangles, what if you got hurt, what if you slit a vein...

"aur yeh chooriyan?" and these bangles?

he had admitted he had indeed bought these for her. oh the tenderness of these moments.

music enters, happy, dancing, and rises, her heart is full of a feeling so beautiful, she plays with her bangles and expresses it all...

"kuch waqt pehele agar kissine humse kaha hota ki arnav singh raizada ek din humare liye chooriyan kharidenge toh hum bilkul vishwas nahin karte.. shyayad has has ke pagal ho jaate..."

if a while back anyone had told me that asr would one day buy me bangles, i'd have never believed... i'd have gone mad laughing.

instead she's laughing and deliriously happy at this moment.

two beautiful scenes interlocked telling the story of a heady passionate love.

that scene of asr's realisation and a morning walk... this episode were about these two things to me. the serious internalising of a truth that will change a man's life. and then a walk with a smile from the heavens above on a lover's face... there is perfection on this earth. everything need not be a compromise.

natty man in brown suit, white shirt. nk rushes about with camera... shadi ka joda and gehne have to reach the gupta house... nk almost stole this chance too... di panicked...

then he stepped in smartly and took the tray, aww that little rush suddenly, letting his guard drop, showing his determination...

nk of course asks, "why are you all crushing me?" when he meant to say, "why are you all staring at me?"

choor... crushing... yes some dreams will be crushed soon. that "choor" in the middle of such a happy morning, a slightly evil writer's hint maybe? haww.

"main bhi ussi taraf ja raha hoon..." he's going her way...

fun music, i can watch him almost lunge forward and pip nk to the post a million times... the man of action... he knows now why he feels things for that crazy girl. he will act on it.

"nk, tum sari decorations samhal lena..." nk, you take care of the decorations... while i go get the babe, is left unsaid but clearly meant. poor nk.

"haah, (sigh) copycat, nannav," karan goddwani has got nk so so right. cool dude "phoren" with a slightly effeminate air, an incredible innocent clean sweetness, i see karan in scenes from other shows, he is again a good actor with an ability to enter character.

"mera excuse chura liya..." stole my excuse moans nk. shyam watches, urgency growing. nani and di are thrilled. di says she will go to mandir... shyam must act.

the direction and storytelling in these episodes are tight and concentrated, not a shot wasted. and a clever and satisfying juxtaposition of rising romance and growing more tense evil.

"ai dekho nand kissore ai gaye..." so asr was directly referred to as nand kissore. interesting. he is the ocean, he is the lord. and barun is the lord of the oceans, arnav... maha interesting.

he sits there looking around for her... she seems to be not there, the poor fellow gets ready to leave... main chalta hoon.

and then on a deadly look back, his trademark palat, he hears... "khushi bitiya bahar hi hai..." khushi is outside managing all the work.

and we come outside. what a sight... lots of onion tomato chilli... very khoosie bitiya ingredients.

she's talking to cooks, getting things done, most natural acting by sanaya... lovely shots really. unpretentious, sunny, happy.

he walks out onto the verandah and comes looking, eyes hungry.

as he reaches the corner, he sees her. just look at that expression.

and of course music comes tumbling in just like jill. it rejoices with its pure happy notes... ting ting ting ting hey hey.

he stands there as she with her back to him keeps working... he stands there gazing, happy, joyous actually, eyes lit with love, a slight smile, he could stand here forever.

he starts walking down the verandah. rabba vey comes together and plays.

she still has no idea, just working, smiling to herself... delightful.

he pauses... looking and loving.

you got to love this man loving that woman.

and suddenly as she walks toward the verandah, he is in her peripheral vision range, something registers and dhak dhak dhak dhak. she clutches her heart.

she closes her eyes. when she opens them... the gust of wind is here... and she looks and sees him.

hey hey.

again so minutely detailed and crafted this scene, the feeling of pride in work and great instinct for storytelling are evident.

both stand staring at each other... then the world's most beautiful walk, on a verandah in jamna paar lakshmi nagar, and a courtyard outside.

eyes locked, smiles bemused, hearts beating at same pace, they walk in unison on a parallel track which will beat all mathematical theorems and assertions and meet at a point...

he smiles at her... she smiles back. a simple exchange. a completely new and shimmery note in their interaction.

both so gentle and tender and just sussing things.

of course then comes the moo and the chaos of pattal plate... just an ipk thing. take the viewer to intensity, through anger tempest temper tenderness whatever, then lighten the load.

keep it weird...all a bit ajeeb, that watchword and supremely magnificently hatke.

"hey bhagwan yeh humne kya kar diya... sab aapki galati hai..." oh g what have i done, all your fault, she rages at him, but all pouty and nakhra queen.

"excuse me, gai ko pattal tumne khilaya isme meri kya galati hai..." you fed the plates to the cow and how is it my fault, he took his asr stance, but in the most uff flirtatious way.

"par dhyan toh..." but my attention was.. oh oh kkg, the truth is out and the man with stick out ears can hear it all.

he would have pushed for more with that walk down the steps and again, tell me how is it my fault, but a look at her face and he gets her concern.

so the man takes charge.

"okay just relax..." first time he said "relax" i think... i could just close my eyes and feel happy for a long while with just that.

"khushi, main pattal le aya..." off he goes and gets some pattal plates... a truckload, just enough for twenty people. but tomorrow he'll do something even more astounding. ah, when a man loves a woman. or a little prince loves his rose.

and why must some people smile like that at a girl who gives them acidity.

e p i s o d e s  o f  f a r a q  p a d t a  h a i

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