episode 68 hold me, kans.

tell me you're not feeling what he's feeling. 

after watching episode 68, i was a bit surprised at my own response. i remember the first time i saw it, being completely enamoured of the krishna story telling by khushi. leaping around, on top a table one second, basket on head the next, everyone watching mesmerised, nature reflecting her recounting, crack of thunder, gust of wind, sound effects on cue, a feeling of ballet and dance drama, a play within a serial... the story of a father taking the eighth son of his wife to safety through calamity and miracles, his own uncle waiting to kill him... his protector... sheshnag... the behemoth serpent. oh i have heard this story so many times as a child, but nothing beat khushi's telling of it. sanaya irani, a zoroastrian, possibly never heard this story growing up, yet who'd believe this was not a part of her, so innocent her khushi, so into the moment, ready for the birth of little krishna. excitement gleaming in her eyes, even lavanya's complete lack of knowledge and interest not bothering her. 

i was really looking forward to it, thinking that would be the high point of my 22 minutes of therapy. but somehow, while i enjoyed it, it didn't give me the zizz i remembered. happens i guess, even the best of scenes loses a bit of its glory as time goes by.

but not a bit seems to have dissipated when it comes to watching asr. in fact, i feel he is getting stronger every watch. that shot of him walking into the house, and sensing her. how corny if i describe it to someone. yet, how absorbing if you happened to look at the television at that moment.

we call it acting, but with barun it seems to be a case of becoming. i am not a television watcher, nor a major movie buff... yet this young man's portrayal of his material just takes me to another place. which is why i come here even now, why i joined something called a tv serial forum in the first place.

saw him years ago in shraddha. thought he had something about him. but the serial was too raw, too clumsy to really show us the qualities that ipk and asr finally brought out. i now go back and watch scenes from shraddha, bhph. he actually becomes swayam khurana in the sketchily drawn character, and then the better drawn but still not all the way there shravan jaiswal. have a feeling  in all three cases, i include asr here, the actor really filled out and completed the character. of course, guided to a lesser or greater extent by the writers and directors, but the final push came from him. when i see swayam, i see this element more and more now. it always fills my heart. i can feel the ah growing inside. a certain sense of satisfaction.  one might even call it happiness.

yes, hot damn sexy he is, and terribly awfully attractive, but what keeps me here, has me in withdrawal, is that becoming. an example in the shot above. i could feel what he felt.

he was sensing this girl. and somehow the flying strands of hair, so filmi and the language of another era of film making, the gust of wind swirling, studied pause in story telling, everything felt natural, normal, perfect. lasted a few seconds... made the episode for me.

the phone rang and she picked it up. her hello got a rude "kaun?" why were his eyes so bright, did he know that at her very thought he came alive? sanaya had the perfect come back, "kans??!" a really clever actor, she is one of very few women actors that i've seen who really has a sense of comedy. she seems to not be "acting" at all when doing this kind of thing. deadly timing, at times sharper than barun's. if only our serials had a space for an intelligent, cool female character. this eternal bahu playing, traditional, modern, whatever but clearly labelled and marked "bahu" or wanna be bahu, most tiring. especially for a pretty scary bahu like me. some day i would like to see these two together doing something totally different and opening up the world of characters some more for me. 

"di ko phone doh!" that rough, abrupt grating thing in his voice. i could dunk it in a hot cup of tea and eat it up happily. my perception and sensory abilities do crazy stuff around this fellow's work.

khushi is eating again. this time to get some courage, if not equanimity. she makes it to bravado, tries to talk to him. he of course is witheringly rude. my knees are turning to water.

have a feeling so are hers, only that her experience and sheltered life with very staid views of what's a good man, etc., just don't let her understand this is not kans, this is the man whose flute she hears, who rings her bell. again across episode played nat khat nand kissore. who is kans, who is shyam, come ons, tells me tells me, he seemed to ask us all.

when khushi thought she had the upper hand, she tried to go into the offensive with a nicely twisted, turned, "suna aapne," eyes narrowing, voice getting testy. but before she could warm to the themes, a clear "beep," he's switched off the phone. one of the sexiest things i've seen in a while. ah this mistaken notion that sexy is taut muscles, bare bodies, visible skin. all some people have to do is switch off he phone with a certain look... fully clothed in, far away from object of desire, surrounded by loud, loads of not considered very sophisticated marigold garlands.

little krishna was in a seriously playful mood today, so he made sure some of his favourite butter fell just where he knew two people would cross each other's path. i will digress for a moment, have i ever said before how proud i am of the creatives and the mindset of this household that rahim chacha, clearly not hindu, is often seen handling food for the temple, entering the prayer area, etc.? no heavy discussion on this theme, but this clear message that one can value tradition and still be open minded, not segregating people on the basis of cast, creed, religion, gender, i love it. nani ji was truly a woman who deserved to have a woman's day. this character made me super proud. dadi was her opposite... forget someone of a different religion, she wouldn't let a "servant" in to prayer space. she obviously knows nothing of meera, "mohe chakar rakho ji, " her song to krishna. somewhere, we are all serving, all servants of the eternal... that's the ultimate job meera seeks. as you can see krishna is playing with my mind too.

but far more engaging, the rabba vey he has organised. asr walks into the house, khushi walks out of the kitchen, again lavanya becoming a cause of her reaching asr just then, just there. both know the other is nearby, only not exactly where. and two people stride toward each other at right angles... she slips on bal gopal's stolen butter and lands in kans's arms. another pretty ridiculous to describe, but impossible to look away from or not feel, embrace. drink to me only with thine eyes, and i will pledge with mine (to celia by ben jonson). i sat and got tipsy watching the two, a smile easing onto my lips. i mean, shouldn't i be reading shakespeare or something or maybe saving the world? at 53 surely there's a nobler pursuit. what can i say? i was happy, hope that counts in some way toward all good things.

then that yellow veil floated down.

 
why, i wondered. later when akash came and proceeded to look sweetly smitten he clutched a yellow material in his hands. why, again i wondered. maybe yellow has some meaning, something to do with ties... yes, of course colour of haldi (can't say that word now without thinking of a cheek coming close, stubble in nat khat mood)... and haldi is an essential part of wedding. or maybe, the director simply liked the red/green/ yellow colour combination. needs a ponder.

he was mad at her, how lovely. and was about to start of, "tum..." but di interrupted them and they went their own ways. but when khushi asked di to give her a mo, he just had to turn back and look at her. for. no. reason.

maybe that look back got him even more gussa. when talk of khushi staying back started, he appeared out of nowhere to just insult her for no reason, "overtime ke double paise offer karo... shauk se rukegi," offer her twice the money in overtime, she's stay back. 

khushi was in no mood to take it, so hurt though shew as, she shot back via anjali, everything can't be bought with money.

yeah right, har cheez, par tum. not everything, but you...

this is full frontal attack. she has riled him... neither she knows why, nor he... but she can feel it, and he, oh yes, he can so feel it.

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janmashtami episodes

episode rambles 

fanfiction

               

a feeling takes hold

he is often angry, but when he is angry with her there is an intensity there that's not seen otherwise, almost an involvement. his body bends a certain way, his fingers jab air, his face grows stormy, his eyes burn as though wanting to annihilate her, consume her, touch her. nothing is held back. an emotion is clearly at the root of this. we never get so mad at people who don't matter. my mother used to say, i get angry with you because i love you, i don't get angry at the passerby. twisted it sounded when i was a kid but really that is the point.

in 74, asr's state of dil shows itself again and again, just that he has no idea what's happening. even the way he checks his pockets to see if she's planted something in them speaks of it, that wary look in his eyes, an unusual uncertainty (i know i haven't found the right words, but you know what i am trying to say). i think in these episodes again a level is cleared and his emotions take a deeper hold of his heart and mind. that first meeting at sheesh mahal, then the first rabba ve, their moments of unmitigated awareness and nearness in the rain, the panic of guest house, bersarai's seething silence, teej's compulsion, the storeroom's pounding heat, the breathtaking surprise in a cupboard... "khushi!" one by one a feeling has entered and scaled to capture its quarry. and now it's slipping into all sorts of places within him, he has no control. she can sense him all the time, he is in her thoughts too. she can's leave him and go away to lucknow, she can't feel "theek" after yelling at him, she can "mehsoos" him even when her eyes don't see him and when he hurts her it hurts more somehow. much more.

these were the tender heady explosive days of falling in love... totally dense and teeming with emotion and yet frothy and full of fun, a sexy kind of fun. in between sublime beautiful moments. romance is not exactly a new genre, but the way ipk and asr khushi told the story, it just reached another place within me. and stayed. 

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the ajeeb game of love episodes

episode rambles 

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episode 72 jail bird

a young woman came back home alone, late at night. i remember a bengali movie that centred around this very issue, how a girl's life in a conservative society is affected by something as seemingly trivial as this. a very serious movie it was. here, however things got curiouser and curiouser. a touch of falling through the rabbit whole entered the scene.

payal was angry. why must her sister go to that awful raizada mansion, and what about that condition of not meeting the miserable mr raizada. but what to do, jiji, replied her mud spattered sister, have to work, and if one's work is in the water, one will meet the crocodile (croc, alligator, which one magar machh?), isn't it.

right in the middle of a tense scene, a new monicker for the one i call asr. huh! so what about that tense music. where is all this going?

payal stalked off in anger. khushi pulled up a table and stood on it. asr looked frantic and gorgeous, sitting in his suv, driving around, looking for the one he'd last seen standing in a dark alley, keechad all over her, refusing to get back into the car, unless he said sorry.

"soocide, soocide... gaon walo..."

and so it began, the journey into ajeeb.

it started with a fall into icky slush and we came to the main entrance with a fling of hot tea.

but to get here one had to pass through the hazards of "khushi's-believe-it-or-not game arcade" and the shenanigans of "la la land," plus a little bit of "thief of lucknow" trials set by shyam. the terrain was tricky, laughter could have you rolling on the floor and off your course very easily. you wondered where it would all lead, but you clung on for dear life, sensing something big was on its way.

and in episode 75, it came. ah, that moment. but sorry, i am in a frivolous sanka mood too, and shall only divulge all when we reach 75.

today it's soocide time. and to sweeten death, a pinch of mishri.

i hope dharmendra saw this scene. when sholay was released in the mid seventies, who'd have thought that in the second decade of 2000, more than 35 years later, it would have such resonance with the audience. veeru's "soocide soocide," and "buddi going jail, chakki peesing peesing," empty bottle in hand, atop a tank, drunk, slurring and so very cute became part of our language and shared memory. in it a lightness and froth the years never took away.

writers of ipk, clearly movie buffs, decided to resort to a classic cult scene to start off this super wacky week of ipk. great choice. and really, sanaya was a fabulous veeru. i just wish we had one of those ridiculous asides from the gaonwalo (jiji, buaji, shyam) that went "yeh soocide kya hota hai?" er, what's this soocide? sorry, if you've never seen sholay, the reference wouldn't make sense, but if you should ever catch the movie on the net or somewhere, you'll agree, i think.

in the mean time, the man who tends to lose his head, and very often realises soon after that what he did was not right and sets out to correct his mistake, is out on the road, getting more and more worried. where is this girl? fikar not, asr. she is right on top of that table, planning your "jail jaaing." imprisonment. what she doesn't know, of course, is that the deed is already done, and your dil is settling only for life term, it's only your dimaag that struggles for freedom, it knows not why.

"jiji nahin muskuraai... toh soocide!"

if jiji doesn't smile, she's going to "soocide" and for her "soocide" only one person will be to blame. you, sir. as she threatened calamity, and her dhanno (the ox, or was it cow?) bua and thakur snake walked into scene, but off camera, a car pulled up smoothly outside in the dark, to come and halt quietly by the gupta's little home. in complete counterpoint to the noise and jollity indoors, a silence, an intensity in this frame. a darkened glass rolled down, a still face turned in the direction of the light, saw the girl framed by the parallel window grills, a bit prison like they, and his eyes said things that no scriptwriter could have written down.

an ocean of yearning in just a second. flowed out and enveloped all. surprising perhaps even the owner of those brown orbs. little did he realise how extremely worried he was. or perhaps even ashamed at his behaviour.

"yeh jo asr hai na, woh bhagwaan mein vishwas nahin karte..." this aspect of asr, his not believing in god really troubles khushi. she genuinely does not get it. for her this is sacrosanct, how can anyone not be part of this idea? yet, interestingly, love will some day make her understand that too, just as it will make him accept that she is just perfect as she is, however different from him that may be.

"gussa toh aise karte hain jaise saans le rahe ho." his anger is really an issue. repeatedly, in the early months this was hinted at. the whole thing is possibly related to his dad in some way too. however, at one point, the writers let this theme go without explanation. pity. right now, we see the return of his nostril flaring gussa. after the initial flooding of relief, again the temper, possibly a weapon to save him from all hurt.

"saza sunate hain...
arnav singh raizada, tu jail mein jaaing aur chakki peesing
tu khushi kumari gupta ko tadpaing aur chakki peesing
chakki peesing aur peesing aur... hic"
here's the sentence... arnav singh raizada, you going jail and mill grinding...
you making khushi kumari gupta unhappy and mill grinding...
mill grinding and mill grinding... hic

on that pretend hiccup rose the gust of wind. a turmoil, a return yearning filled her insides, her eyes looked around. is he here? is he here? two hearts had a conversation. the owners of the hearts never listened. maybe because the time was not yet right. maybe all love stories go this way, who knows. first an emotion finds itself under cover, outside the five senses, in some meeting of instincts, of hearts, then along the way we pick up the signals. this may sound a bit khushi ott, but if there were no mystery to the rise and claim of this feeling why would we waste centuries pondering it, writing and thinking and cogitating about it, and still remain pretty much mystified?


 
pyaar, love, the ultimate game centre really, completely ajeeb.

words from a very old hindi movie come to mind:

ajeeb dastaan hai yeh
kahan shuru, kahan khatam
yeh manzilen hain pyaar ki
na woh samajh sakein na hum

a strange tale is this
where does it start where it ends
what are these turns and passes
neither he understood nor i

a loose translation. the word love never figures, yet that's what it really is about.

the curtain flutters, an unguarded innocence in his eyes, the same wanting, camera closes in, i felt he wanted to come close and just inhale her air.

she sees jiji smiling. back to normal... "arree hasi toh fassi." you smile, you're trapped. how that came back to me in 75.

he watches, returns home to anger... the glass rolls up, his eyes still on her. he drives off, she turns almost catching sight of his car. feelings assail her.

khushi had resorted to her favourite tactic to restore calm and peace to her loved ones. clowning around. but when she sat outside, under the stars where her parents watched over her, the hurt of the day couldn't be denied. somehow growing up was taking a toll on this clear eyed 18 year old. she'd met a man who'd made her aware that money has an authority, power in this world. her days of thinking that her little piggy bank could buy her the whole wide world are over. all of us at some point go through this realisation, and just like the many hard realities of this life, it's never easy. her teacher had not even been too kind in his methods, constantly throwing her lack of wealth on her face, calling her a gold digger and worse. but she was a tough cookie, firm in her vishwaas, she would teach that laad governor a lesson herself.

no wilting lily our lissome lovely maid. feisty, nutty, and full of tricks. and in these matters, quite slippery before conscience too, having quick conversations with dm where she makes it a point to let the eternal know, it's not her fault at all, if someone treats her badly, gotta do something about it.

i kind of like this spirit. no crying and cringing and giving in to fate for madam kkg, she in her own way is willing to take responsibility of her own fate. just that she needs to know dm is with her. again a maker of her life, like the angry young man, sorry magarmach.

next morning, a happy consultation with happyji (a character i rather like, a most interesting and sweet actor we have in him), and she mounts the mishri attack. so sugar in the petrol tank stalls the engine. i learn new things every day. khushi keeps doing not quite above board things this point on and makes excuses for herself as i said earlier. interesting, shyam uses a similar tactic, he is doing terrible things to everyone but he doesn't really mean to. why is it that i am willing to overlook khushi's games but not shyam's?

"hume gaadi se utara tha," you threw me out of the car, with a little moue and a sashay, she gets set to take revenge on asr. and this brings me to the other thing related to her doing wrong things. it's only when it comes to asr that khushi is willing to cross a line and play nasty. is this too a sign of love? ajeeb.

she has another agenda today, teach la the importance of marriage. can't say i agree with the bulldozing of others opinions and thoughts, but well this is kkg in a certain mood and the games are on, no point resisting, just give in and rofl. 

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

the ajeeb game of love episodes

episode rambles 

fanfiction

episode 63 darkness at love

 
"time takes it all, whether you want it or not, time takes it all. time bears it away, and in the end, there is only darkness. sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again."
~~~ stephen king ~~~


he is not in a good mood. his face is closed, taut. his movements a bit jerky. something is on his mind. the phone rings. a terse, "hello!" then an angry, "agar conference cancel ho gayi hai, toh mujhe itni late news kyun mil rahi hai!" why am i being told so late that the conference is off?!!

tense music in. he throws down the phone, leaves office.

driving home, a call to lavanya. she tells him she's in the kitchen, cooking, sounds hassled. phone rings again. "hello." it's the caterer. all is good, but, "sir,uss khushi kumari gupta ka kya karna?" what to do about that khushi kumari gupta?

in a flash, a storm gathered, lightning streaked the sky; just one look in the eye and a jaw muscle had to move, that's all.

"tumhare paise mil gaye... baat khatam." you've got your money. end of story. 

the last two words spat out, rasping, cutting into the night. baat khatam. he throws the his blue tooth. end of story ... enough of this girl, but arnav singh raizada ko kissi ladki sa koi faraq nahin padta, so why does she bother him? why?

flashbacks start. on asr music. fast, furious, energy, angst, burst, heat, light. she hits him in the guesthouse, mad at him, pushing him back till he takes hold of her hands and turns her and pins her against the wall...

he saves her in the rain, both in a clinch swiveling away from the oncoming car... the car speeds...

cut to present... he slams on the breaks. jaws clench.

cut to memory... she's trying to run out of the store room, he races past her, slams the door.

back in the here and now... he gets out of car, shuts the car door with a controlled angry bang.

he's tormented, irritated, angry, "uss ladki ke baare mein sochna band karo," he admonishes his wayward mind. enough.

in a not to be messed with mood he walks into the house. a neatly wrapped gift in hand. perhaps a gift for the girl whom he can't give what she really wants. his love. anything money can buy, arnav singh raizada is able and ready to give. but that priceless feeling... alas no place for that in his life. 

but who will tell the music that? and the confounded breeze?

 
the moment he walks in... do me so do, la la la la... and a waft of breeze rising. he feels it...

she feels it.

mehsoos is not in a mood to be messed with either. an interlude between the two, while standing by themselves. this is awareness, a gift in itself; and it comes wrapped with music and air.

and as if on cue, the lights go off. he's tense as h.

 

she's scared, now that we know how scared she is of the dark, a claustrophobic air.

he is in the thick of that sensation... "woh yahan nahin hai. it's impossible." she's not here, it's impossible. (and why did i get the feeling that's not barun's voice.) 

"hey devi maiya," she prayed.

he strode in and headed toward the kitchen where lavanya had said she was. absolute asr, hot, brusque, in command, stylish as anything.

"lavanya tum phone par bahut upset lag rahi thi... sab theek hai na.." he walks in asking after la's state of mind.khushi is there alone, facing the counter, shock registering on her face at his nearing voice.
 

no time to waste, he goes right up and touches her shoulder.

in that second he knows, no this is not lavanya.

hey hey... hey hey, their song replaces the forceful asr signature. a mix of joy, surprise, anticipation in the music, in complete contrast to her terrified expression and his widening eyes, truth descending upon him. yet a moment is stolen from all the anger and fear, and it is sublime. a pause where they let the music say things, feel things, and just are two people in a moment.

as though turned to stone, he stands still.

she turns. the lights come on.

music changes cadence... tense, rising. he sees her. she's nervous, scared.

his expression thickens to a snarl almost, he pushes her away. away from him. "usske baare mein sochna band karo." he is not giving in. what is she doing here. what? why? why is she always there. in memory, in the here and now? when all he wants to do is get rid of her from his being?

"di! di!" his voice rings out, angry, a whole outburst packed into two syllables, demanding an answer.

la walks in, "asr, tum itne jal-" "lavanya, tum beech mein mat bolna!" he shuts her up. rough, no nonsense, enough messing with his mind. and yes, this voice with zizz, rasp, energy, grain, this is barun sobti, no one else. the stinging stress on "tum." he's had more than enough of everyone and everything. even di gets a harsh yell, no one shall be spared.

la is fazed. khushi looks horrified, what will the rakshas do? he turns his face toward her and just one word as he lets his breath out. "out."

a tense exchange of looks. his eyes growing more furious, body stiffening.

"i said out!" caution to winds, full throated shout.

she looks at him, stricken, expression growing dense, packed.

at tear drop point.

no one said love will only make you smile.

"everyone is a moon and has a dark side, which he never shows to anybody."
~~~ mark twain ~~~

they have found each other again and again and again in darkness. like the brightest light ever it has shone the way to love. that first time he held her, he came out of the dark on a night of cloud burst and chaos. when he called out her name the very first time, it was pitch dark in that guest house, a storm tore through the hour, and she'd looked at him with eyes that saw other planes, universes, galaxies, he'd returned the look and gone with her for an eternity to unknown lands. diwali, the darkest night of the moon, amavasya, when they felt that naked, guileless passion and lit up the night. in their darkest hour, sitting far away from each other in quiet unlit corners, they heard each other from afar and spoke from their hearts, can you hear me... tum mujhe sun sakti ho? hamesha.

why this facility of the dark? perhaps when one sense closes down, the others sharpen? and help us fare inward, touch our inner world, which is essentially without light: a quiet, calm sort of dark? really, there's no 100 watt bulb inside, is there. what's around my heart? my gut? my mind? feels like those pictures of space, an ocean of darkness.

there was no light again when she finally let him make her his own, and made him hers forever, clad in black, the colour of dark.

so, scary and terrifying as these moments and those that come may be. they will surely find each other, that's really the agenda of the dark.

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e.p.i.s.o.d.e.s of dil
episode rambles

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episode 119 are you aware that...

 

an episode of awareness and extreme denial. he can sense her as he steps in trough the doors, even though he is in a foul mood. that singhania file is missing, and so is someone from his life because he has expressly told her to go away and never come back, ever. yet he knows she's around, like that day just before janmashtami. in episode 63 we saw this, here's a bit of that sequence:

the moment he walks in... do me so do, la la la la... and a waft of breeze rising. he feels it...

  

she feels it.

       
mehsoos is not in a mood to be messed with either. an interlude between the two, while standing by themselves. this is awareness, a gift in itself; and it comes wrapped with music and air.

today, on bhai dooj, a repeat of this mehsoos of each other. both now have sworn never to see the others face. but really, there's no need for any of the five senses, when the sixth one is so alive and super sharp. does this really happen i find myself asking? have to say, may be not every time, but often enough it does tend to when you're into another person in a huge way. well, perhaps not the wind and piano notes, but that going still, feeling someone's around... yes, that one.

after yelling at the hapless servant, (oh this politically incorrect, incorrigible brusque boy in brown suit, red tika, and bad mood, now why is it that even those who get regularly shouted at can't bring themselves to hate him roundly), he goes off to look for his file, while she perches precariously atop a stool (the same one from which he fell?) looking for oil for her lamp. instead they find each other... the instinct seems to know what you ought to be looking for.

he strides into the kitchen, still grumbling and shouting, "di!!  meri singhania wali file...

and...

ting ting ting tong... there she si in pink suit on a stool in his kitchen but now falling.

nonplussed, he stares at her.

she comes down toward him and without pause or thought his arms rise up and reach out to catch her. he can't let her fall on the floor, he won't let her get hit by a car, he can't let her die in a collapsing building, he won't let anyone lay a hand on her, he can't let her be wounded and alone, he has to be there to catch her. if he's dropped her quite callously and uncondonably once on purpose, he did make sure she landed on cases that broke her fall. but this landing is just so much more preferable.

dupatta does its floaty thing.

and look how cutely she sits there perched on his arms, her lissome arms securely around his neck.

they both seem to get a bit lost in each other... surprise, shock, and that other thing that's always there when they're together.

she remembers the shakal dekhni hai aaj ke baad thing. don't want to see your face after today, don't want to talk to you...

yet...

"tum yahan kya kar rahi ho?" what are you doing here? he's rough, angry. since day break he's been struggling with the emptiness within. she was in his morning dream... going away, he'd woken up with her name on his lips and maybe a vacuum in his heart. but he wasn't prepared to go into all that heart stuff. instead, he'd summoned gussa to deal with the problem, and like aladdin's good genie, gussa was prepared top do anything for the young master. perhaps because he knew he was good of heart, his bark much worse than his bite. but please, what is this heart talk again. enough!

suddenly a thought connected. asr reminded me of the marvel heroes i was reading about today, the super heroes which appealed much to the new audiences of the seventies and eighties for they had human frailties and failings, unlike the 100 percent perfecto superheroes of the previous generation. wasn't asr a bit like that? an archetype, a hero sort in some ways... but with his weaknesses, his achilles' heels, almost.

"wo lavanya ji..." she began haltingly, trying to extricate herself from all the feelings. easy to say uyou'd give anything not to see tehe man, but what if you do see him... have you prepared for that?

"maine kaha tha na apni shakal mat dikhana..." hadn't i told you not to show your face? he is in one nasty mood, and today it's offensive all the way from him. yesterday she'd been in this combative frame of mind when he reached the temple, but today he was in full attack mode.

"just get lost." mean, cutting.

"aap hume chhorenge tabhi toh hum..." if you leave me, only then it's possible, she archly points out to him, with a return spark of rage. he holds her firmly, even though there's no need to. if she is so intolerable, what's the need for this? shouldn't he have just let her go once the saving was done?

he realises she has a point.

this time he doesn't drop her, just dumps her unceremoniously.

the battle of words continues... to... fro... strike one... strike two... no break in rhythm.

"tum yahan aayi kyun..." why have you come here?

i have no desire to show you my face... she says witheringhly.

and yet here you are in my house, he comes back, standing right in front of me. yesterday you said you wouldn't come to this house, now what's happened. "jitni baar iss ghar se bahar nikalo... tum wapas aa hi jaati ho" no matter how many times you're thrown out of this house, you find your way back. he is now getting more and more insulting.

dekhiye... listen here, she starts. but who'll let her finish. this is break all rules of war combat.

"ab kya stoopid bahana hai tumhare paas..." now what stupid excuse do you have... love the easy city language and the youthful turn of phrase. of course the "stoopid," that's exactly how i say it too.

"kabhi lavanya ne bulaya, kabhi di ne bulaya... sab jhoot," sometimes lavanya has called, sometimes di, all lies. you must have made up something to come.

the gall of the man. she is angry.

if you don't want to hear the answer why ask a question? she returns sharply.

very spouse sort of convoluted going nowhere argument...nice.

then the money thing enters, how could it not. it is asr after all, to him women are gold diggers who go about breaking homes, well not all, but certainly the ones who seem to have this crazy hold over you... don't think you can get more money out of this house.

a threatening advance, she retreats, finger pointing harshly at her, thrust forward jaw, the works. gah, that "khushi?" he woke up with still grating somewhere. how could this girl be so important. a fear of loss in him at the mere thought of never seeing her. how could this be! he'll show her.

"aap har baat paiso pe..." why do you take everything to money? "kyunki main janta ho ki tum..." because i know that you are -

"chhotey!" di cuts in, sharp, angry. he has to listen. so di had to really scold bro on bhai dooj, alas.

khushiji isn't taking any money. he's shocked.contrite even?

khushi is giving tuitions, she is not employed by the raizadas, just helping out, on the condition there's no money involved. di leaves him looking chastened. khushi is ready to go too, but,

"khushi, ruko mujhe tumse kuch baat karni hai," khsuhi, wait i want to talk to you. matter of habit, she pretends not to have heard and moves ahead, pushing him a bit... she seems to always do that. he's irritated, she's too.

"enough!... hum jab bhi baat karte hain yahi hota hai... issliye ab se na main tumse kuch baat karoonga, na tum mijhse koi baat karogi," whenever we talk this is what happens, so from now on, neither will i talk to you, nor you to me.

"theek hai... " agrees khushi. you stay away from me, it'll be good for me.

and so it is that khushi and asr strike yet another deal. one that will be kept or broken who knows. the tycoon and the jhalli, and the business of love, sorry hate, goes on. but what to do about that wretched awareness.

one of my favourite songs by mohit chauhan and a r rahman, it reminds me so much of these two. and it is about the feeling, that awareness, that mehsoos of each other. "paas mere saath mere," near me, with me, very ipk words, remember when he goes to bring her back home? jitna mehsoos karoon tumko, utna hi pa bhi loon. the more i feel you, the more i get you/receive you. sounds like a song written for asr and khushi.

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episode 129 a world of dreams

"haan di, aap pahuch gayi... ok theek hai," he was speaking to his sister on the phone and as he turned to leave, he stopped.

gust of wind.

he turned slowly, but it seemed as though he'd seen her already, knew the undeniable awaited him there, he just had to look... compulsion, can't look away. he is the tormentor, in command, master of the moment in pursuit of an admission of a faraq and just in case it isn't there, then the deliverer of vengeance, devastation... for not caring when he gave such a  damn.

yet in that blood red lehenga, hair open, ethereal, she is the one in control... actually, isn't she the one in control anyway, the one with the power? when she is hurt, she can still look at it fairly reasonably and chat with dm, somehow get back to life. but when it comes to her he seems to lose all his bearings.

why can't his eyes stop smouldering when he looks at her. why is there a  hint of complaint behind the stoked passion... who are you, why are you so far away, why won't you let me matter to you, why aren't you mine?

the wind was hollowing, billowing out, surging.

"la-avanya ji, hum..." and she sensed him too, one hand on chunni, awkwardness within, beyond the mirror curtain he is there. sheesh mahal, the house of mirrors, a dream world of mirrors here... a make believe sheesh mahal? there was the sunday store room; then their room in nainital, a haven in the middle of nowhere; now in a sprawling, crowded shop their private enclosure of mirrors; in a jungle some day, a bucolic hut with all they need... then maa's glowing garden; and finally, a room with the sky within.

why this slipping into fantasy spaces? where only the two and a feeling were present? the constant stepping away from the three dimensions that seemed to invite us to leave hard reality behind too... was it to underscore the non-material nature of love... say it strides another space, a space not measurable in real estate terms but equally valid? and perhaps more essential.

i also feel it had an impact on the viewer. i started thinking of the two together... away from everyone else, and at the risk of sounding nauseatingly mushy, got to say, i let them into a space money can't buy... my "dil." i have never wept over tv characters before... in fact, i am not the sort who cries at films. yet asr touches my insides, and khushi too. i actually spent a whole day feeling terrible about what transpired in 129/130. but let's go back to the two. she has just seen him...

and rabba vey came in, gentle, tender, probing to test the mood; the clear innocent notes of a lightly touched piano.

she was taken aback, embarrassed, shy.

he was dumbfounded... then the three horizontal lines began to appear on his forehead, a trademark asr muscle movement... along with it, eyes growing fiery brown, concentrated...

her hands fidgeted... trademark khushi when nervous, perturbed..

he started moving toward her exactly as he had the day he saw her in a red saree in his office... immersed in her, not really conscious of what he's doing... just being reeled in as though by an invisible rope... that day too her eyes had been troubled, and she had no idea how enchanting she looked. her hair was open, a dark deep red made her look even more vulnerable, innocent... he couldn't help but drown in the sensation.

she squirmed, flustered.

she drew her dupatta, again the dupatta, protectively over her.

when he lifted his hands to part the mirror curtains and enter the enchanted space, why did i get a feeling of a suhaag raat, of a man coming to claim his woman in the most ancient, elemental sense of the word?

he walked right up to her and stared unabashedly. she looked away, a little uncomfortable, very conscious of that gaze... as if of its own volition his hand lifted.

as it did i felt a moment of contact... in his involuntary reach out, in her immediate registering of it and furtively stepping back, they had already touched each other.

what was he going to do? touch her? before one could think, she'd looked at him funnily and stepped out of reach.

and a hardened expression replaced his smitten, mesmerized look.

did he change his mind at this moment? or was he planning to hurt her all along? my bet, he was not thinking at all once he saw his woman in red...it was her stepping back and that "what are you doing" look that catapulted his brain into focus and the meanness came racing out.

that she got under his skin or nudged his dormant dil is one thing, but khushi kumari gupta really invaded arnav singh raizada's most prized possession. his dimaag. she had entered that and played with the synapses, and every once in a while they stopped functioning in her presence... especially when she looked so innocent, so lovely, so... oh all he wanted was her, the why when where of it didn't matter, she overtook his whole mind, he couldn't see beyond that.

this asr could not tolerate. this control she had over his brain. he had to do something about it.

gah, i think he wanted to push that lock of hair back from her face, his hand rose much higher than where the tag hung...

then he reached down and pulled up the tag.

and the devil in him returned with glee.

"utna bhi bura nahin hai... par tum aur tumhara fiance afford nahin kar paaoge." it's not bad, but you and your fiance won't be able to afford it.

she looked up and she knew he was out to hurt her now.

"what a pity...par aaj main bahut achhe mood mein hoon... so what the hell. main tumhe kharid ke de deta hoon...apne fiance se kahna arnav singh raizada ne engagement present diya hai..."

what a pity... but today i am in a very good mood.. so what the hell. i'll buy it for you... tell your fiance that arnav singh raizada gave an engagement gift.

then he plunged in the dagger and turned it at the same time.

"after all, tumne lavanya aur mere liye itna kuch kiya hai... gift nahin toh tip samajh ke le lo..." after all, you have done so much for la and myself... if not a gift, consider it a tip. to insure privilege. the privilege of being insulted by him.

a little pause before "tip" and the slightest sardonic smile... he's aiming for maximum damage...

but khushi is not wilting. she's had enough. she's not going to give him the satisfaction of that stunned, tearful look she had when he played his necklace trick. something you really liked, i gave lavanya, hope tumhe koi faraq nahin padta. what had he given la? something she'd liked despite herself... no not that necklace, you silly man... but in the complex and convoluted game of emotions they play, they both know that. but this time he's insinuating a price tag can be put on her, her desires, she's for sale... almost.

in a cold, quiet voice, with an edge of return fire, she replied,

"nahin chahiye... lekin poochne ke liye shukriya.. aur aapne bhi theek kaha tha utna bhi boora nahin hai lekin utna khaas bhi nahin hai.. hume yeh pasand nahin hai..."

i don't want... but thanks for asking... and you were also right, it's not bad, but it's not that special either... i don't like it...

tears in her voice. but she had played back a move at him. she rejected his pasand as he'd rejected hers with the ring earlier at rm. his nostrils flared, his lips pursed, he wanted to lash back but the phone rang... he glared threateningly and left...

then came the tears.

she sat by herself holding that chit of a paper which he'd made into such a deadly weapon and cried. la was so sweetly clueless rushing around and trying on things...

"chamkili, in dino aisa lag raha hai jaise main ek dream world mein rah rahi hoon," chamkili, these days i get the feeling i am living in a dream world.

he'd finished his call and was in front of the mirror curtains at the doorway, he just stood there watching her suffering, she looked at the price tag, no doubt remembering the egregious insult... strains of sitar delineate the riffs of pain echoing in her...

and through her tears, a young helpless girl spoke her innermost feelings, unprotected as she was before the harshness of this real world... a trembling voice from deep within, sanaya at the height of her art, never allowing the moment to catch melodrama...

"sapno ki duniya mein rahana hi achcha hai, lavanya ji...kyunki asli duniya mein sirf dil toot-te hain..."
it is better to stay in a world of dreams, because in the real world, only hearts break.

heart break.

he had taken her all the way to this never before seen place. his gift... or maybe his tip.

her broken, shattered mirrors within, seems to cut his heart... the one he believes he doesn't have... and a tear drop drenches a price tag. the priceless one sits before him and weeps and he who is the expert at knowing the price of things but unable to gauge the value of some... suffers watching her. reflections of each other, no distortion if you have the heart to see.

there was no price tag for the scene either...

rabba vey and the most solemn tones of background score.

he parted the curtains again... maybe this time to come and heal her, even surrender... his eyes seemed to go red with tears. tears? yes, they were that. 

his hand came up again as if to tell her not to feel so bad... he couldn't... instead he felt all of her pain... each and every bit of it... in him. he could never hurt her and not feel the hurt himself... a balled fist opened slowly... a girl unaware wept quietly... mirrors swayed and reflected and glittered...he turned and left, still in pain... almost uncontrollable. the glass curtains swung and made noise, she looked up startled... who's there.

asr left soon afterwards, leaving his girl friend perplexed... yet a certain calm had entered khushi after the tears had flowed. she said to la, if you wish to wear something, do so, don't worry what others say and her face was composed. she was learning to steel herself against the onslaught, at least on the surface... she of course, had no idea that someone else too was crying in that corner of mirrors and dreams.

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