episode 209 in my heart

why do i think of you even though...?

why do i remember you and me?
funny moments here and there
fairy lights glimmer and a touch 

does leave a shimmering trail.

why do i think of you even though...

why were you kneeling there and i sitting still
why were you coming near and i waited till
i was beating, pulsating, pulsar,
why are
some things so hard to understand
why are
some things not easy to forget

why do i think of you even though...?

and why does my breath race
a pace
sets my heart beat quickening
when you come near.

come near,
come near still...
heart beats, oh! catch them
hold them back, let me breathe
hold me now

even though.

curious are the ways of the heart. refuses to listen to the head when it feels it mustn't. seems to have a compass of its own and knows exactly where the lode star rises.

this episode reminded me once again, where the real bank and source of knowledge is. real knowledge.

two people whose lives have been blighted terribly by what seems like a terrible reality. two people, each hurt immeasurably by the other. that shattering "chot" that she knows nothing of, but he feels with every fibre of him, his eyes growing unfocused in intolerable pain at every reminder.

and she so brutally treated by the man who moments ago had said "bas karni hai" and every bit of her had sung. her bangles, her bindi, her heart, nothing had not been touched by that little turn of head and something in the eyes of the man who wanted to talk to her about... what, what does he want to say to me. with a little smile trembling with anticipation she'd left to hear what he had to say. and then an unexpected visitor... after that only cold contemptuous voice, a harsh proposition, a merciless dragging by the hand and here she was, with a colour thrust on her parting, and all around her only confusion and pain. no answers.

but sometimes, just sometimes, there's that window of clarity in the midst of mayhem. when what is true touches the only part of us that senses truth... the heart. and that is all that matters.

today he put the red, not on her parting but her cheek, but it was as though he accepted her, made her his own, and she returned with the same emotion... you are mine, mine, said his eyes, his touch, the colour floating all around.

she looked at him with eyes that wondered then capitulated and said, i am but yours of course, hum toh aap hi ki hain. in fact, they seemed to implore, make me yours.

if there was any chance that they might walk away from the heart's message, the bhang dropped in to make sure no such thing could happen. not today. not on a full moon tithi (date) when radha had played with krishna and he had put colour on her face to bridge a distance, to tell her she was part of his heart.

isn't bhang a great favourite of that cool deity, the ultimate husband it is said, though he walked around wearing animal skin, ash on his body, not gainfully employed in a solid money making job, hangin' out with his pals and a snake wound round his neck, smoking pot, ganja chandu charas, and drinking bhang? our revered lord shiva. it takes a deeper knowledge to know why this being was so loved by his wife, why he had the power to move the world. all in the heart i think... he was just totally pure of that. the one who consumed all the poison so that the world may survive. and after he had taken in the poison, amrit rose from the churned oceans.

a hundred metaphors and myths and stories of childhood evoked in the scenes of this episode. not done by design perhaps... but so powerful was the coming together of asr and khushi, it took you to mythological realms and tales of divine love. and of characters that stepped up and took on more so that their world may survive. on a night of catastrophe when poison rose, a young man decided he could bring amrit to his family, his di, by swallowing the poison. what he never realised was that it was amrit that he was holding in his throat thinking it's vish... the bhang i felt, let the true nectar seep into his heart. and she thought the same, i'll take every bitterness, anything... to bring eternal joy to my sister... almost like an o'henry tale isn't it? a life lesson practically there.

"the heart has its own reasons which reason knows nothing of." 
~~~ blaise pascal ~~~

a bowl of water, rose petals float... she is here.

she splashes water on her face, her eyes... the bhang is upon her maybe, the truth will be seen when her eyes are clear of the colour, the lie, the deceit.

rose petals. they had to be there i guess. always somehow a reminder of his mother, a sign of blessing... clever use of it in many places.

slightly high, thoughtful, a little troubled, pensive... she roams in a gazebo of fluttering drapes and mirrors. why is she troubled, what bothers her?

she's thinking of him. not yelling and screaming and dragging and denigrating, but untangling fairy lights wrapped all around her. his gaze intent, his touch gentle, his skin on her skin. curious how the heart works. and this understanding of it is laudable.

her eyes look confused as though she doesn't want these thoughts, and yet... there he is... leading her out of the rings of diyas. putting on her payal. all those moments when she'd felt his tenderness, her excitement, her desire...

and as always, she finally comes to the kiss, the kiss she didn't want to stop. she wanted it. and the kiss on the cheek. and there she is standing alone and he comes and holds her hand to dance and help her win. at last a memory from moments ago. an implacable man with gentle fingers touching her with flaming red gulal.

on cue it seems, he walks into frame, behind the mirrors through the drapes... i can feel my heart constrict then start to race. a perfect shot by creatives to tell their story. barun seemed to glide in and the look on his face... so many emotions mixed, all centred on her, she not yet aware of his presence.

"khushi?!"

a question... a yearning... a man's whole world.

the wind comes in... it's staking a claim on its place and time.

a pause, a wait as they stand there just looking at each other. the makers have felt every bit of this scene, the editors are tiptoeing gently so as not to disturb magic.

he is frowning, worried, about many things it seems... possibly worried that he's hurt her a bit too much?

the wind is a quiet murmuring sea... she turns away.

he walks on silent feet to her and stands there, a little unsure of his next step.

she is rubbing her eyes.

he takes a decision and puts his hand on her upper arm, she goes still. ting tring... rabba vey starts... there is music in their hearts today, even if they don't wish to  hear.

she turns back to look at him...

she rubs her eyes. he holds her hand to stop her... the wind comes again, a sign of intense feelings that will break free...

almost mesmerised, with dream like movements he lifts his hand and pushes a silken strand away off her forehead, ever since then that night in a collapsing building, he's had this desire. today her head involuntarily turned a bit as though to feel the caress, to accept it and bring it nearer.

her eyes closed as feelings overwhelmed.

he gently blew into her eyes... hey hey... heyhey hey... she was stunned and remembering again. he had done this before... the day she thought he was practicing black magic on her.

languorous moments ticked by this holi afternoon and he blew away the irritant in his lover girl's eyes... she stared and remembered so many lovely things... which memory do we live by? the ones that are tumultuous and bring pain? or the ones that stir and thrill? a personality here and an emotion too.

she stared as he took care of her eyes... they both were getting lost in each other. an intimacy touched the frame. his eyes watched her closely, read her thoughts and there came a question in his eyes...

two people stood still face to face, not touching, just his hand by her eyes and a breath of his soothing her... there was such poignancy in those lissome lithe bodies standing there... so many possibilities, and this is all that seems to be left. poison had been drunk that night, to save whom, to vanquish whom.

maybe she remembered other things suddenly. she pushed his hand away... why, i wonder.

felt like a little angry gesture of a lover, that said, "how could you!" they both knew how much they wanted each other. even though...

his eyes moved in his signature way, assessing, she looked away, rabba vey played, not at all bothered by the rift. for it perhaps knew better.

he saw her troubled face, he struggled a bit with his own thoughts, conflicts within, and he turned to leave... he knew she had reason to reject him. too many reasons. yet every time it hurt him, even though...

but all of a sudden he stopped.

the first time i saw it, i had a feeling she'd stopped him, but i didn't dare hope for that beautiful moment. yet, it was that. her hand hand reached out and held his, pulling it back, stopping him.

a stirring breath taking moment. how still he went.

and in their love story a massive step was taken ... i thought of that small step on the moon analogy. she had reached out and held back the man who'd heaped only a slice of hell on her. she needed him. no. matter. what. the heart has its ways, thank g.

her face was troubled... but she had to have him close, had to ask him something urgent. he stood among the mirrors, speechless. time passed, they stood there like that. a plethora of emotions going through them...

at last he turned and looked at their linked hands, then his frown just as dark as it had been the whole day, more of consternation and puzzlement than anger perhaps, he looked up at her as though his glittering eyes asked, "why, what is it you want..." and as though it couldn't believe what was happening.

a glint in her eyes too as she made eye contact after she'd turned away with that anger between lovers...  a touch of tears.

she took the next steps too... the girl whose hand he'd held and taken roughly toward a temple, refusing to hear her words or all that her eyes said. but she had to talk to him... "dil ki baat" is often so different from the human made notions of shoulds and shouldn'ts, what does or does not happen.

divine complexity i sensed in these scenes... so much about our inner workings coming through. really, ipk did understand the language of this inexplicable thing we have come to call love.

ipk made clear, there is no place for social niceties, political correctness, rationality, nothing, in this feeling. extra rational, pure, untouched, it is what it is.

she stepped all the way to him... he stood their transfixed... all that hate... he knew how much he must have hurt her... and yet this innocent girl full of just a need walks up to him. pristine pure... this can defeat all that's negative, this can release a tear, this can win the universe. snow queen and the releasing of a boy's heart by a girl's unclouded heart wafting through.

she stood looking at him and heart beats came in over the rabba vey, thrumming...


 
two hands came up without any hesitation and held his face, he looked at her approaching hands, such a thing had never happened to him... to them.

heart beats.

he stood without a word, his eyelids lifted to glance at her again...

such tenderness had he ever been shown?

"hum aapse kuch poochna chahte hain, arnavji"...heart beats... the sun shone, and the curtains fluttered, a man looked on nonplussed, how much he loved her, how much... i want to ask you something, arnav ji.

she let go of his face and her hands reached for his hand, the wind rose, the girl took the boy's hand and placed it on her heart...

"aisa kyun hota hai," a delicate, guileless voice, the sound recordist wanted to add an echo to pretty it all up a bit, every creative wanted to give this scene some love... but really, that makeup was not necessary... sanaya's acting was enough to make it ethereal... why does this happen?

"jabbhi aap humare paas aate hain toh humari dil ki dhadkan tez ho jaati hai..." he looks at her almost stricken, what was she saying, how much he wanted to hold her and what a mess life had become. whenever you come near me my heart beats quicken...

she's a bit high, he knows that... he just wants to hear her words...

"humne samajhne ki bahut koshish ki"... she is troubled by the state of her being, how can she love this monster who made her do such things... life is complex... khushi delved into the mysteries of life with asr, he took her where she'd never been before and he changed her just by being there as she changed him... at the cost of sounding most cliched i must say, they helped each other find the person within.

i have tried hard to understand...

she shook her head and a childlike... "lekin samajh nahin paaye... bhulana chahte hain... par bhula nahin paate..." but i don't understand. i try to forget yet i can't...

how hard she's tried to hate him...

he feels her pain, her confusion, his heart reaches her on that plaintive note, why can't i forget though i try? he's hurt this girl so much, but she can't stop loving him. what is he to do with this beautiful innocent girl he so wants so wants.

"aisa kyun hota hai?"

she is in tears by now, a heady mix of her feelings, the bhang and his colour on her, his nearness, she's immersed.

and he holds her face gentle and loving, in his hands... his pagal, the girl whose sanka he must take care of, she who will return 300 rupees to him, he just wanted to be so good to her... and yet.

in this gazebo far far away, where rose petals float, their fragrance in the air, where for a short short while it's just him and her. not the carrier of responsibilities, the brother, the outraged lover, the broken boy, none of them. he. as he is, simple and just that. with her. he touches her in a way he's longed to for such a while.

"bataiye na... aisa kyun hota hai?" tell me. why does this happen?

no words really in him, just an overwhelming burgeoning of feelings, tears gather in dark chocolate eyes. barun makes sure you never feel the glycerine.

i am sure the guy cried behind the glycerine.

"ki humari dil ki dhadkan humari saason se bhi tez ho jaati hai?" that my heart beats race faster than my breath?

and even as he looks at her, a part of a question whose answer is a truth, one eternal... she passes out on him.

what a lovely girl... gets drunk and falls flat... i could trust her and love her. seriously.

and the wind rushes, the trilling piano notes of rabba vey wrap around them, the gazebo holds them like an oyster, a pearl in its heart, she collapsed on him.

a little time to himself, he looks away fighting his tears... wipes one with the knuckles... like a child. a cut in the stone, and a tear at last, the beginning perhaps of the washing away of pain. a child's heart awakens another.

he is overwhelmed by her innocent giving love... you can't fight that. it is easy to scream and shout and shut everything out, but what do you do when someone tells you with complete trust... when you come close to me my heart starts racing... tell me why. even though i try to forget... she knows he has hurt her... even then i can't forget... tell me why?

she swings away awkwardly and he holds her looking at her. i felt there was a lovely scene edited out as he draws her close and picks her up as he has done many a time before and walks away. an owning of the moment, a taking charge of his truth in his stride. somehow they are separate from the crowds all around.

he takes her to the place where they've met again and again... lay her on a chair, and tended to his lover... so so tender, with a large handkerchief and holi colour on the cheek...the feeling was in his fingers, his face, his eyes, as though all he wanted to do for the rest of his life was take care of her, make her feel good... oh to be loved like that...

the bhang was having its way with him too... you could see it in the loosened jaw, the relaxed facial muscles, the lack of his usual aggressiveness.

he let the hankie go, then sat looking at her, his hand settled on her cheek... cherish. that is what he wanted to do. his girl.

she slept. she knew she was in safe hands.

when her eyes opened, the wind came in instantly, the feelings swirled and danced, they wanted voice, they wanted to live...

he was stroking her hair. yet when he saw her eyes open he began to draw his hand away, as if worried their status quo didn't permit all this... how hard for him not to love her, touch her... yet that is what the current situation demanded.

he sat staring at her beloved face and remembered a girl in white with a wide smile with a key on her palm. mannat ki chabi. a simple key that was supposed to open the lock... she would. she did.

many memories rushed him as they had floored her. the early days, when he'd seen her on the road in delhi, angry with the man who'd rammed into her scooter.

he'd never not wanted her.

and she stood there in red and he gobsmacked...

i have goosebumps for how long i have forgotten, the music is perfect, the sound soars and takes me on a memory ride... i remember sitting up in bed waiting for this magic night after night... so many memories of ipk.

how he'd needed to come out and save her from the car that night of rain...

a return to now as she says, "arnav ji, aapne abhi tak humare sawal ka jawaab nahin diya..." you haven't yet answered my question.

so cute, she had not forgotten... even the bhang wouldn't couldn't make her forget... she needs the answer...

he shakes his head as if to say don't hurt like this, he strokes her cheek with his thumb and he tells her why he thinks what happens, happens. today he won't lie, won't fob her off... today he won't scream "i hate you" to tell her he can't live without her. today he won't tease, he won't play, he won't stall, today he will tell her and he will love her and adore her and hold her and hug her just as his heart wants to.

he leans in toward her and says the words that would be embedded in many hearts forever. fairly pedestrian words really, even silly and mushy, most men would balk at saying such things... but not this actor. he would make them real. and exciting.

"main batata hoon ki aisa kyun hota hai..."

low key, understated, thinking man's voice... as if he is wanting to alleviate pain with a real answer, a solution.

he swallows, his hand moves to hold hers...

and he places it on his heart... clifftop wafts in, a flash forward in me...

"jab tum mere paas hoti ho," when you are near me... he is gentle and husky and intimate... she looks into his eyes... an instant of complete meeting.

"toh tumhari dil ki dhakano ke saath saath... mere dil ki dhdkane bhi tez ho jaati hai..." then along with your heart beats, mine quicken too.

she is wonder struck by this... hey hey sings the air.

and a smile begins to clear the troubled look in her eyes... she understands what he tries to say. she understands this man alright.

"humari dhadkane ek ho jaati hai," our heart beats become one.

nth time i watch... and the goosebumps are all over me... why does this break through all my cynicism, my jadedness and feel right... true... beeeautiful.

"jo tum mehsoos karti ho... jo main mehsoos karta hoon..." which i can feel and you can feel.

she joins him...

"humari dhadkane..." tearful she is, caught in the wonder of it. 

"ek ho jaati hai..." our heartbeats become as one. he nods and affirms.

she seems to sob, but now in joy, a glimmer of a smile on his lips and on hers... rabba vey.

why should this kind of feeling matter? let's talk of real estate, bank balance, investment, reality check, branded shoes bags jewellery the right brand of college... that's real, that's life that's what we must have... must.

nah. let's talk of a boy and girl and a poolside named romance.

and he stroked her cheek again, and she looked at him and all was good.

"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it...
~~~ e. e. cummings ~~~

t h e  h o l i  e p i s o d e s

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episode rambles
fan fiction

episode 290 an uncanny silence

what if you are watching something that you love deeply, where you have seen the most sublime moments transpire and then full of hope and a feeling in your bones you are going to see some stunning stuff leading off that now, you go and sit in front of the tv.

and then what starts unfolding, first feels like the beginning of that wonderful thing you wait for.

then starts to confuse you. are you missing something here? and how come there are so many shots of a man's double? and why is the man standing practically stock still, he who is always animated, known for fleet agile movement, the finger jabbing, the alacrity of his muscles and sinew? and why does he not speak? hasn't he kept quiet too long already?

you still wait, putting your faith in what you love and say, bet they are getting ready for some real smashing story point here. see, see, how shyam is in offence is the best defence mode? and there, he is beginning to challenge all the evidence nk and khushi are coming up with...now even payal has jumped into the fray... and mami ji has brought up many questions.. now surely...

but some part of you is beginning to go slack, feeling hope melt away, a funny fear creeping up. this may not be going at all where you think it is.

again you give your flailing heart a whack and say, believe... baat sach ya jhoot ki nahin hai... baat hai vishwaas ki.

and you watch. more courtroom style drama. ah so you invaded my privacy and got your evidence? oh really, i signed the papers? so where are they?... and the bad guy rages while the good guys look flummoxed and lost and growing more desperate...the voice application password comes up. and nk in his usual unguarded way, chasing the truth, fighting the bluffmaster blurts out, "yeah woh i love you khushi..." and the cat is out of the bag.

a man looks at a cretin.

the game enters the final mudslinging rounds. defence rushes and ambushes the judge.

he starts screaming and anjali shocks him and me with a raised hand. you know, even on this watch i got taken in and asked myself, so how exactly did they turn the story after this moment?

nk thinks he has got through. a beautiful shot of him beginning to smile, looking at di.

"behudi baatein karna band kijiye," stop saying shameless things, she bursts out.

"band kijiye, aap dono!" she turns and yells at khushi and nk.

this is the moment when asr would have stepped in, i note.

but he doesn't.

nothing really to say about this episode beyond that excruciating sense of disappointment when he just kept quiet.

because writer had written so.

because of exactly what reasons will always escape me.

and really the whole oh so clever attitude brought to this moment of story, a tragedy... a sense of cheap thrills in the writing and the direction.

this was really not the moment for it, it was the last place in fact. also, yes, one episode of asr's silence... that has traction, increases curiosity, makes the viewer a bit nervous yet excites... because the expectation builds.

i have no problems with the whole "look into my eyes and trust me" thing either... i have a huge problem with the story telling, the heart of the writing, the depth the writer sought. no matter how much one rationalises, what feels wrong, just feels that way.

and the mind and muscle and rhythm of heartbeat stops responding... no matter how much the head says, stay calm and keep vishwaasing.

290 was a sad sad one. because writers forgot that when we go close to ipk our dhadkan becomes tez. and the reason is the same... because somewhere heartbeats unite.

when you play with the heartbeat of ipk, you play with mine.

i understand that even the screenplay writer of the show has laughed and said, it is only a tv show, so stop getting so caught up with it. i am sure neither barun nor sanaya will perhaps understand exactly where the involvement is and why ipk means so much. of course, i expect no sensitivity or understanding from gul and star plus who view such things as merely "products" to be assessed in terms of "profits" which in their thinking is only of the monetary kind.

and if they sniff immense love for the show they would only again use it to make money, nothing else.

and really i don't blame any of these people. a tv show is not supposed to matter so much.

a man is not supposed to snap an unknown girl's dori and the woman is not supposed to fall in love with that man and that man is not supposed to turn out to be a magnificent creature with the most spectacular attitude toward, of all things, women and actors on tv are not supposed to act so well and a suave wealthy man from the world of fashion is not supposed to go all crazy about a girl in a tight churidar with pompom and choti and we are not supposed to feel and sense a man on a screen at this level, nor a woman.

but supposing is what the rational part of us does. the extra rational hopes, yearns, loves, ascends.

never was a rational thing anyway. never could we provide proof of why and where and how.

but if anyone had looked into my eyes, or yours that day, they'd have seen the sadness that perhaps khushi felt when on the night she had expected so much, he came and said grimly, shadi karni hogi.

that moment when he kept quiet, when i knew he didn't... well then on it was just my eyes watching, not really me.

and now shyam has actually admitted he signed the divorce papers. 
 
he did it apparently for parivar's izzat and ghar ki shanti...

distracted part of me notes, yeah, even khushi had said that, or believed that when she kept quiet about shyam. interesting...

but not really.

when they couldn't tell the story perhaps the way they wished to, either because of channel interference or because they had run out of inspiration or whatever, there was a tendency to turn toward being what is known as "hatke" to stay "ipk". hatkeness being identified as a feature, a key differentiator of brand ipk.

that is when ipk always suffered most. because all this loop closing and clever writing was really the little hooks that brought in and kept a thinking contemporary audience. even the chemistry, while integral, was not enough in iteslf. what really had me here and in dhakdhak was a deep deep love romance and love story... an understanding of the nature of love... a daring to explore it, hope, yearn, ascend, not give in to cliches.

and that suffered when asr did not speak.

for me.

he has just saved about an hour and a bit ago the woman he loves more than his life. of course, he is worried about his family, his sister... he has just realised the sister's husband is the heinous one. he knows apart from trying to kill him, this man left khushi tied and gagged on a road to die.

he knows khushi has reached a point where she can't keep quiet anymore.

but no matter how worried he is about di... would he still keep quiet when the pressure on khushi is increasing like this? when he hears about that password, would he only leave it to a cold hard stare? and when his sister turns and accuses khushi of behudi baatey would he just let it be?

"main tumhare b-" he has already said... just a bit back... he has seen her almost gone. heartbeat not audible.

i tell you... this is really not funny.

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episodes of aur main

episode rambles

fanfiction

without you: chapter 40

then even nothingness was not, nor existence,
there was no air then, nor the heavens beyond it.
what covered it? where was it? in whose keeping
was there then cosmic water, in depths unfathomed?

~~~ nasadiya sukta, rig veda~~~

he stood outside the room, unable to look in through the glass panel set in the door frame. blue door, white walls, a skirting of pale grey oil paint along the wall almost three feet high. an eerie silence all around. a faint yet persistent smell of disinfectant. it was past midnight, the operation was over, di was still unconscious.

they couldn't save the baby.

arnav singh raizada felt his heart knock against his ribcage as the words went simply, without embellishment, through his mind.

di had lost her child. they couldn't save her little girl. something flickered in his irises and went still. for some reason, di was convinced it was a girl... he almost smiled, remembering di insisting, she was even knitting a pale pink sweater...

he stood there alone in the corridor, an emptiness seeping into him. he had failed again. he had not been able to protect di.

di... what if... what if she had not...

he didn't finish that sentence. he wouldn't think of "what if" scenarios. he never did. what was, what had to be faced, dealt with, that was important. that was what mattered. he would focus on that.

and yet, what if he had lost di.

without taking his consent the thought crossed his head. he felt a jolt in his chest, a heat behind his eyes. he walked away carried by the force of a terrifying emotion.

for years now, he'd done everything he could to set right the defilement of a night far away... yet always close by. how it lingered just beneath the surface, seething and turbid, a craving in its wailing shehnai, a cremation in its gunshots. it wanted to swallow all light, plunge the world into eternal darkness... only a single sensation writhing within. a sound. maa.

everything might have ended that night. then he had looked at di and felt a stirring... a reckoning. he could feel it rise and take hold of him. he'd walked quietly to her side as she sat staring vacant eyed at the bodies of their parents covered in pristine white sheets and sat down beside her. he  had reached over and taken her hand in his. two siblings struck by catastrophe... a twenty one year old girl who had been dressed as a bride just a couple of hours earlier and who now looked almost childlike in her helplessness, and a fourteen year old boy who had started looking grown up all of a sudden.

as the world and its doing of things done whirled around them, a brother and a sister sat side by side, their relationship quietly realigning, changing, taking a shape it might never have if their life had not taken this turn.

into the wretched numbness had come a single thought, he would make sure nothing happened to his di. he would take care of her. as long as he was there, she would be safe... some day she would be happy too. he would see to that. yes, he would. he had let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her head down till it rested on his shoulder. he had rocked her gently. he was here, he wouldn't let anyone harm her.

that night a young boy had found a reason to go on... to fight back, to succeed, to live.

and now di lay in that hospital bed, her child had died. her husband was a philandering cheat. her world was shattering again.

he had failed.

asr swallowed hard. his eyes moved upward of their own volition, then a mirthless smile slanted his lips... there was nothing there, or anywhere else... that one could depend on, seek anything from.

he began pacing along the corridor. how would he face di when she came to? what would he tell her? he could feel a thick pall descend.

"arnav ji," khushi's voice was a whisper. he started. he hadn't heard her approaching. he tried to look at her, but he couldn't. he wanted to tell her how badly he had failed, dammit... but that too he didn't. energy was sapping out of him... another long night loomed ahead. it was happening all over again.

khushi moved closer. she was still dressed in the rich prussian blue lehenga she had worn for di's godh bharai ceremony. the evening had been going so well, di was smiling and looking beautiful in her dark pink saree...

and suddenly... what had happened? they had all been dancing... then that piercing scream.

di was slipping and skidding down the stairs, trying hard to reach for the banister... arnav ji was running toward her. before he could reach her, di had fallen.

khushi looked up at the face of the man she loved. she lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, "ghabraiye nahin, arnav ji... di ko kuchh nahin hoga... aap hain na, di ko aap sambhaal lenge," she said softly. if she knew him at all, she was sure he was blaming himself right now... thinking he had fallen short in some way. she wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him, but she knew he wanted to be left alone.

(don't worry, arnav ji... nothing will happen to di... you are there, you'll take are of her.)

he seemed to laugh, she realised it was a sneer.

"main? no, khushi... i have failed, that's all," he said quietly. then he drew her into his arms and buried his face the crook of her neck.

(me? no khushi... I have failed... that's all.)

"how will i face di, khushi? what will I tell her?" he said, his voice breaking.

khushi felt tears roll down her eyes. she couldn't bear to hear arnav ji sound so helpless. she stroked his hair without saying a word. hey devi maiyya, take care of arnav ji and di, she prayed silently.

when anjali regained consciousness she refused to believe her rajkumari, her baby, was no more. she shouted at anyone who tried to say otherwise.

mami came to her nephew, distraught. a feeling of inevitability seemed to grip asr, he knew what he must do. he walked up to the door once more, but this time he did look in.

anjali saw him standing there and as their eyes met, without a word having to be said, she understood. he watched her face crumple, her hands grope wildly around her middle, her eyes lose hope... he stood there watching, unable to go and hold her this time. he had not done what he had promised to do. a part of di was dead forever.

that darkness, why did it never leave?
***

the noise startled everyone.

nani ji and bua ji were in the prayer room arranging the afternoon's offering and lakshmi ji nuzzled against her mistress. she seemed to want more attention than usual, devyani raizada thought distractedly and gave her pet goat a loving pat before going back to her work.

the rest of the family was sitting in the drawing room, om prakash and hari prakash had just served light refreshing buttermilk, the table was being set for lunch.

mama ji and shashi ji were deep in conversation about a lane in lucknow which had the most interesting savouries. garima was telling anjali to try a massage oil that had been particularly beneficial for her husband.

khushi was showing off her knowledge of london to nk and payal.

"haan, you know, i took a taxi all alone also... hum lucknow se hain, woh london wondon se darte nahin!" she said making a face and thrusting out her chin.

(yes, you know i took a taxi all alone also, i am from lucknow, huh, not scared of any london...)

"really, khushi ji? aap kitni badsurat hain!" nk gushed with a beaming smile.

(really, khushi? you are so ugly!)

"badsurat nahin, nk bhai, bahadur," payal corrected him in her gentle, patient vein. then she turned to khushi and with a slightly raised eyebrow asked, "you weren't scared at all, khushi?"

(not ugly, nk bhai, brave.)

payal had a knowing smile, khushi looked around a little uncomfortably, scratched her head and said, "haan, woh... matlab..."

"do you know, nk, yeh khushi hai na... yeh meri darti hai par karti hai behen hai..." said payal.

(do you know, nk, this khushi here... she's my scared but will do sister...)

"darti hai!" nk jumped up, "khushi ji, like me! I am also darti hai... of bua ji... and..."

"and... lavanya ji?" khushi said archly, "why, nanhe ji, these days you're never too far from her..."

nk blushed and grabbed his glass of buttermilk.

mami ji walked in looking very pleased, the after effects of all the "foreign" gifts had obviously not worn of. she was humming, "dehleez pe meri... hmmm hmm... jeena jeena..." her latest favourite hindi film song...

(on the threshold... hmm... hmm... to live to live...)

she came and struck a pose before the three of them and said, "uff lateef eej so guds, bhat a sweeets bwoy... bhat a lauly bhoice... my phaaborite! jeena jeena... hmm hmm..." she blew on her nails coyly, obviously the polish had been touched up.

akash lifted his head from the newspaper for a moment and looked at his mother, then he went back to his reading. payal had asked him to come home for lunch today, she was absolutely delighted to see her father almost back to being the way he was.

lakshmi ji darted out of the mandir and went toward the main entrance and that was precisely when the noise started.

it was so strident and sudden, it took a while to register that it was in fact the door bell.

"kya hua! kya hua!" nani ji came rushing out, looking perturbed.

(what happened! what happened!)

"kaun hai! hari prakash ji! kya ho raha hai!" anjali called out, standing up.

(who's that! hari prakash ji! what's going on!)

khushi sprang to her feet and went toward her father.

mami ji stopped singing.

and then it was she who yelled, "arre baba, jaao jaao, hp, op, darwajja kholo... ee toh humaar door bells hai, hello hi bye bye... bhere bhere... bhere eej the phires? bhy ringings so so many many timej... hab we gaat the jayckpaat... he he he..." mami giggled at her own sense of humour and bustled off toward the entrance.

(go go, hp, op... go open the door. that's our door bell, hello hi bye bye... where where... where's the fire? why are they ringing the bell like this? have we won the jackpot! )

the noise was getting deafening... khushi followed mami ji hurriedly... something told her she knew who it was... yes, it was arnav ji...

her heartbeat raced... had he...?


***

all you could see were two pairs of eyes. both dark brown. both shining.

asr's eyes were sparkling with something impossible to name. right next to them gleamed the little child's large eyes...

he was carrying her, holding her securely with both arms and walking in without looking left or right. behind him came doctor verma, more slowly but even he had a peculiar smile on his face.

khushi stared after them, her heart beat reaching a crescendo.

mami charged ahead keeping pace with the two men, her hands were shaking with a strange excitement... her eyes had widened and she went straight to her mother in law, though she had no idea why, and grasped her shoulders.

hp gaped open mouthed at the goings on, completely forgetting to close the door.

lakshmi ji trotted happily alongside doctor verma. a silence gathered and right in the middle of it fell four familiar inimitable words... "hai re nand kissore!"

before anyone in the sitting area could react, asr reached anjali... his eyes were fixed on her now and they seemed to get even brighter.

anjali stood there without moving. everything all around began to recede. brown eyes... she stared at the curls, the plump tender cheeks... the drool... who had smeared so much kajal in those eyes? anjali extended her hand even as she heard asr's ragged, hoarse, "di!" 

her fingers touched the wet cheek. the child made a noise. one of those noises that no one can describe... like the sound of rain... of the wind... of leaves falling. one of those noises there isn't any need to describe... anjali gazed at the child, her eyes refusing to move away...

who was she?

chhotey never carried children... anjali searched for an answer in her head. but her heart had picked up an erratic uncontrollable beat already.

"di!" chhotey said again. her nonplussed gaze shifted to him, was that a sheen of tears on his eyes... his lips were beginning to slant up... he looked like a little boy...

"chhotey?" anjali whispered asking him what she didn't know.

"roshni," he said softly... "aapki rajkumari..."

anjali wasn't aware she cried out at the words. a sharp guttural cry from some corner of her, some chasm within this thing we call our body yet it holds so much more than mere flesh. all she felt was a wild need to clasp the girl with huge eyes and curls and drool to her bosom... to keep her there. who was she? was there any need to answer that question? was there any answer to that question? she had heard her and touched her and known her for so many days, so many months, endless moments, right inside her... where you knew things... where there was no lie... ever.

asr watched through a film of tears as his sister took his niece from his arms and laid her on her own body... her eyes closed, she held roshni tenderly yet tightly, her hands had balled into fists.

asr caught hold of di's shoulders and made her sit down... everyone was now coming closer to the mother and her child... a murmur was rising. there was laughter, there were questions, there was astonishment, amazement and joy.

he looked back. where was khushi? she stood just outside the circle of people, tears streaming freely down her cheeks... his eyes moved down to her lips... she was smiling. light pink lips, unlined, innocent. he wanted to run to her and tell her... at last he felt free. he wanted to kiss her guileless lips.


***


"shyam!" anjali's voice was so low you had to strain to catch the word.

yet, he did. and he stiffened instantly. khushi's eyes widened. what was di saying?!

"you are my kanha, my shyam... do you know, you have come to me!" anjali was saying to the little girl who sat on her lap now, pulling lakshmi ji's ears... "no one can hurt you, no one can harm you... nani, khushi ji! hain na yeh ekdam shyam ji ke tarah...?"

(you are my krishna, my shyam... do you know, you have come to me! no one can hurt you, no one can harm you... nani, khushi ji! isn't she just like shyam ji?)

asr relaxed a little.

it was almost an hour since he had come home with perhaps the most beautiful gift he would ever give his sister. questions had been asked and answered, everyone had taken turns to cuddle and kiss the new member of the raizada family.

khushi had watched spellbound as nani ji had taken her great grand child in her arms for the first time and blessed her. she remembered nani ji sitting before devi maiyya that day when she had come home from the hospital after arnav ji slipped into coma... she had marveled at nani ji's strength and prayed her grand mother in law be spared any more tragedy. she had suffered enough, and always with grace and strength.

khushi had wondered what nani ji was thinking at this moment.

almost as if reading her mind, nani ji had turned, looked at her straight in the eyes and smiled. khushi had never seen her so happy, youthful... almost untouched by the years.

"oph course, my grand daaghter eej like that natkhat nand kissore only... and she eej prettier than him, hello hi bye bye... she eej our own raijada maynsson bootiphool sweet bestest kismis kajoobadam barphi gulabjamun jalebi..." mami ji chimed completely out of control in her joy. she also wept copiously right through.

(of course, my grand daughter is like that playful krishna... and she is prettier than him, hello hi bye bye... she is our raizada mansion's beautiful sweet best raisin cashew barfi gulab jamun jalebi...)

akash was sitting next to anjali beaming. anjali was the only sister he had ever known, she may be his cousin but to him, she was his di and he loved her, that was all. he reached out gingerly, looped a finger through one of roshni's curls and pulled, then let go almost immediately. the curl went right back to its original state.  akash looked at anjali and they giggled like kids.

"chhotey, i need to thank the nurse who saved my daughter... i must meet her... and she..." anjali said turning to asr, she sounded agitated.

"she..." anjali's lips quivered a little, "she was like a mother..." anjali felt a little better once she had said the word... "a mother... to..."

asr watched her silently. di was struggling with many things he knew. he had too. he still was. urmila jana had done more for his family than he'd ever have believed a stranger could do. he could still see that vulnerable look in her eyes as she gave the tiny toddler a little push and said, "jaa..." letting go...

he had called aman on the way home and left specific instructions to contact urmila jana and give her anything she might ask for. but he knew this was far more complex than just a matter of giving and taking.

"anjali," docter verma spoke for the first time since walking in with asr, "would you like to come to the hospital with me and meet her?"

anjali looked from her brother to the man she had grown to trust and value in these months, she said, "yes, vijay... please, I would... now."


***

the sun was bright but pleasant in the winter afternoon. anjali sat next to urmila on a bench, they were in the park next to the hospital. she was holding urmila's hands in hers as they spoke.

asr and khushi stood to one side, keeping an eye on roshni who was busy with a colourful ball, tumbling around the sand pit. vijay verma and akash were standing farther away, talking.

"have you heard the story of krishna, urmila ji?" anjali asked the plain looking woman sitting across from her.

urmila jana had barely spoken a word since they met. she seemed bereft, almost shut out from everything, she hardly looked at anjali.

"i don't think i will ever find the words to thank you the way you should be thanked... aur..." anjali held the limp hands in hers tighter, "hum shayad aap ko aisa dukh de rahen hain jo humne kabhi nahin jana tha hum kissiko denge..."

(and perhaps i am giving you the sort of sadness i'd never known i'd give anyone...)

the nurse lifted her eyes at anjali's words.

"it's okay, i won't create any trouble, i promise... roshni..." urmila's voice shook, "roshni will be happy..." she said listlessly.

"haan, she will be... that is why i have come... you saved her, urmila ji, you loved her... you are her...mother. humey yeh hi shiksha di jati hai na? sirf janam dene wali maa nahin hain, aapne unki raksha ki hai... " anjali said, her voice was breaking too.

(we are taught that, aren't we? only the one who gives birth isn't the mother, you have saved her...)

urmila jana started sobbing. anjali leaned forward and hugged her.

"please accept my thanks... and don't stop loving roshni... jab ji chahe, man karey... usse dekhne, zaroor aaiyega... jaantey hain? humney socha tha shayad hamari pooja, hamari prarthna... sab mein koi kami hai... nahin toh..." anjali paused for a moment before carrying on,"lekin... aaj humey laga... nahin... sab theek hai, jo sahi hai, wahi hota hai... you made me believe that... thank you."

(please accept my thanks... and don't stop loving roshni... whenever you want to see her, please do come... do you know? i'd thought my prayers, my faith, everything was flawed in some way, otherwise... but today i felt... no... everything is fine, what is right... that happens. you made me believe that... thank you.)

urmila jana smiled a little before she spoke in her flat monotone, "she was so tiny... and her hair was thick and dark... i did not do right, miss anjali... she is yours... and she should be with you... forgive me, i didn't do right."

not all relationships come about in neatly understood and prescribed ways. urmila was ready to kill a child without whom she now couldn't imagine living. anjali had never ever allowed herself to think her rajkumari might have survived. it was too painful to toy with such thoughts. yet, she always remembered how she'd not been able to believe her child was dead. she had only accepted it because chhotey had looked so shattered. maybe a mother has ways of knowing about her child that can't be explained? today she was sitting with the woman who had agreed to murder her unborn child. the greater truth however was, she had not.

nurse urmila jana had, without even meaning to, become a part of their lives... and she would always be the woman who saved roshni.


***

stars covered the dark winter sky.

asr sat by his pool, looking at the water. di was sleeping next to her daughter tonight, he thought... his brown eyes glittered for an instant. an intense emotion held him almost immobile.

then he breathed out slowly.

where was khushi? she had not yet come upstairs. it had been a long long day...

he got up and went quickly through their bedroom and down the stairs...

"khushi?" he called out. there was no answer.

where was the girl? he needed to see her now. where was she?

he checked in the kitchen but she wasn't there. he went to the sit out at the back only to find she wasn't there either.

"khushi!" had she gone to the terrace? he was about to go up when he saw her.

she was standing by di's bed, leaning down over roshni and smiling. both di and roshni were fast asleep.

asr felt his heart skip and miss a beat. khushi was wearing her red churidar kurta and she'd knotted her hair casually in a bun at the nape of her neck, her face as always had barely any make up, a tiny silvery bindi glinted on her forehead... from this angle, he couldn't see her face really... only her forehead and the arc of her lips as she smiled.

he knew though she looked beautiful.

an impatience nudged him. he walked into the room and without saying a word caught her wrist and pulled her after him taking her back to their room.

khushi was taken aback but she kept quiet... roshni mustn't wake up and really how shameless was arnav ji! in front of everyone he was pulling her like this. in her sudden agitation, or was it excitement, it didn't occur to her that there was no "everyone" anywhere. only the furniture, the plants, the curios. and now the water and sky and stars.

he sat down on the deckchair and pulled her on to his lap. his arms slipped around her waist and he drew her close...

"why are you still not ready for bed?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, making her spine tingle.

"arnav ji!" khushi exclaimed, she knew she was blushing.

"khushi, i want to make love to you... now!" he said against her lips kissing her hard.

she knew he was trying to tell her something... in his way. but at this moment, she couldn't think any more because he was taking off her kurta with sure swift movements... next his shirt was gone and his bare cool skin was against her breast, her diaphragm, her stomach, her abdomen... his hands cupped her breasts, he buried his face against her body and sucked gently on her left nipple. khushi moaned. his hand traveled over her back, her legs and came up to the drawstring of her churidar.

khushi covered his hand with hers and arched against him...

then he was lifting her and taking her into the room. everything was happening at a dreamlike pace... khushi thought. was this because of jet lag?

she felt her churidar slipping off her and all thought ceased again... his trousers were joining her dupatta and churidar on the floor by the bed.

khushi turned and lay back knowing he would be leaning over her soon. she wanted to feel his lips on her, his weight on her, his hands getting a little rough. she could feel him about to cover her body with his, she moved so that he would lie exactly where he should... she knew his every muscle rhythm and tone by now and she yearned for him. as she did every time.

she felt his legs against hers, soon he would be kissing her all over then sliding into her she knew... but tonight she needed to tell him what she felt he wanted to hear.

she cupped his cheeks in her hands and brought his face close to hers, "arnav ji," she said clearly, "i want you to make love to me... now!"

she saw his teeth flash in the dark. he was grinning...

then he was kissing her on her navel, her waist, her back... his hands were touching her, arousing... his skin was crisp and taut and compelling, she longed for it... for him.

his lips found hers when at last he thrust into her, loving her, delighting her, wanting only to give himself to her.

he felt his world come together in that embrace of hers. she had told him he would make everything alright for di some day... maybe that's why this day had come at all.

he looked intently at her face as she writhed beneath him. would she someday be looking down with that smile at a child of theirs?

"don't you dare stop loving me, ever... dammit!" he whispered breathlessly.


***

"good morning, mr arnav singh raizada!" khushi was sounding bright and cheerful.

asr groaned.

"what the! curtain band karo!" he commanded, eyes resolutely shut.

(what the! close the curtains!)

"haw... what will roshni say, her mama can't even get up in the morning... such a lazy uncle... hai re nand kissore!" khushi talked away while combing her hair and getting ready.

"shut up, khushi!" asr said through clenched teeth, eyes still tightly closed.

"bahut achha, hum shut up tak pahunch gaye hain, ab aayga, 'get out, khushi!'"  khushi giggled.

(very good, we have come up to shut up, now we'll reach 'get out, khushi!')

an arm shot out from the bed and gripped her wrist... next thing she knew, she was lying flat on him, their faces very... very close.

one eye opened. brownness took over the day. a lopsided smile came on. a finger flicked a startled nose.

"remember, my name is arnav singh raizada... samjhi tum...?" he whispered, cocking an eyebrow.

"aur mujhe samajhna itni aasan baat nahin hai..." he murmured, beginning to open her plait, his voice was setting off goosebumps along her shin. she wriggled. he held her tighter.

(and understanding me is not that easy.)

"aaj get out nahin kehte... okay? instead ek nahin get out ka programme banate hain..." his eyes were looking at her in a way that made her ears go warm...

(today, let's not say get out... instead let's make a programme for not getting out...)

khushi wondered what would be the best way to escape this man, especially in this mood. she wriggled again and he pulled her right back.

but now his eyes looked sombre. absolutely serious. khushi blinked.

"do you remember, khushi, that night when i made love to you the very first time?" he asked in a matter of fact voice. khushi didn't know what to say.

"the next morning, i told di and nani that i was ready to get married to you... again. with all rituals. yaad hai?" he said.

khushi was puzzled, "but, arnav ji... why are you talking about that now?"

he put his arms around her and smiled up at her, an earnestness in his eyes.

then he said slowly, "you said to me, you did not need to have a marriage with all the customs because you considered our wedding to be true and real as it was... you told me for you the fact that i had put sindoor on your head, tied the mangalsutra around your neck before devi maiyya and fire was enough... because you knew how much i loved you... you said, you considered our wedding sacred. there was nothing wanting in it, nothing incomplete..."

"ha-an" khushi said nodding, still perplexed, "i said that, because it is true..."

"tumhen mujh se itna pyaar kyun hai, khushi... and why do you believe in me so much?" he was looking into her eyes... "and whatever the reason might be, knowing you it will be fairly weird..." khushi made a face. it was hard to fathom arnav ji, really.

(why do you love me so much, khushi... and why do you believe in me so much?)

he laughed, "whatever may be the reason... thank you, khushi... mujh pe vishwas karne ke liye..."

(thank you, khushi, for believing in me...)

"vishwas..." she smiled bemused and stroked his hair...

outside the sun rose higher.

the sun had been blazing that day too, she remembered. but it was scorching hot that afternoon in june. arnav ji was lying on the road. she couldn't see from where she stood whether he was breathing or not. there was a presence of mortality in the air... she wanted to tell all those people there not to touch him, he didn't like being touched by strangers...

khushi swallowed hard and smiled at him.

in these few months so much had happened. so much... and here they were on a bright morning in december, all around them lay the feeling of new life... vibrant, indomitable life... its very breath.

"hamari dhadkane ek ho jaati hai..." our breath becomes one, he had told her once. not one, arnav ji, she wanted to say... aap hain hamari dhadkan, you are my breath itself...

she sat up and said playfully, "hum curtain band kartey hain, dammit!"

(i'll close the curtains, dammit!)

he chuckled and replied, "i love you, dammit..."

there was that grain in his voice, that touched her right by her heart.

that was the last chapter of without you... a story i started in a a highly emotional state, after seeing shots of asr's accident on the net. could asr die? i wanted to know, really. guess what, the man is lethal, just kills me and refuses to go away quietly. so if any storyteller thought they could get him to just disappear, they were in for a surprise. thankfully, they stopped trying. i do hope without you was good to read and made you happy in ways unpredictable. i can't believe we have come to the last chapter of this story. i'd like to thank each and every one of you for reading without you. ah, just look at them romping up there, telling me about life and love even as they go mushy and a bit silly. i have absolutely loved writing the story, thanks to all my readers. epilogue coming up soon.

index

epilogue

episode 270 exscoozhe me

an episode carried by two actors mainly, utkarsha naik and sanaya irani, as it's the day to play detective and find arnav ji anyhow, somehow. might have been interesting, but for the decision to go funny, almost comic, while on a desperate search to find the man who makes khushi's heart beat faster.

no, not just that. with whom her heartbeat is one.

hamari dhadkaney ek ho jati hai.

when you are close to me, our heartbeats become one, a man with flowing tenderness and love had said at a poolside to a girl who wanted to know, why? why does this happen? when you're near me my heartbeats quicken?

today that man is in the hands of vile revolver toting men and the girl searches frantically for him.

where exactly do writers think, comedy fits in in the middle of it?

sometimes i really wonder about caring for what you do... not only because you are paid to do it, but because you believe you have the talent to do it, you want to, you almost need to. writing somewhere is a bit of compulsion... i write enough and more to have started to understand that.

i can never ever understand why writers lost it because one actor would not be around for a bit over a month... though actually he was available to shoot often... and it was quite possible to stay sane and centred through this not too long a span of time.

after the spectacular 266 and 267, what makes a writer come to 269 or 270 or 271... i just don't get.

sanaya irani is a powerful actress.

the love story is absolutely established.

the viewer is engrossed in it. there are beautiful scenes that may be brought on through flashbacks and other means. or, i am sure there are many rushes, especially of the two hugs and the hut sequence that can be edited differently and used. what's more, barun sobti will come in for a shoot every now and then so you can have fresh shots...

surely one can stay cogent while telling the tale of asr's kidnap and not turn to disjointed story, strange comedy, and a tinny feel to it all. instead of fretting about what will happen if the audience misses barun, had they taken this opportunity to give the whole kidnap tale meaning i have  a feeling this turning to ridiculous comedy might not have happened.

in fact, now that i think, it was the ideal time to really develop why the kidnap, why the will was important, what the whole thing was about...

and what happened to the directors? that opening sequence of someone trying to drop something on mami ji, or the chase in the toy shop... why so fake? when the same guys are doing the beautifully shot hugs and hut?
also, no matter what, asr's wife and aunt cannot be shown haring around delhi in autos... if they can't use the raizada cars for the sake of anonymity or whatever, both have the wherewithal to hire a car.
after a lot of rushing and hiding and fretting, we came to rocky's kitchen and he pulled a little stunt.

again, something just was not scary about the whole thing.

in fact, while the cloak and dagger stuff was going on at the toy shop, i noticed the teddy type goon had a lot of profile shots... maybe the director was enamoured of  profiles for a particular reason.

my one happy moment in 270, mami saying, "exscoozhe me, khisko!" nice dialogue. truly bizarre.

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

kidnap episodes
episode rambles
fanfiction

episode 265 yes you did find me

the breath was always key, at the core of story. saansey ruk jaygi, hamari dhadkane ek ho jaati hai, acidity, dhakdhak. there were many ways the breath came and gave life to story.

and then there was gust of wind, smoothly breezing in, wrapping around two strangers who would be lovers one day, sometimes it lifted a veil and stroked against a man's face leaving a touch behind, at others it came and left in a quick swirl, or it came and stayed and breathed as if waiting for them to see something, to realise something. that day in berserai, way back in episode thirty something, they spoke not a word to each other, he tried, she rushed away, but for long moments, gust of wind stayed and murmured, a bated urgency in it.

i wonder was the wind as if a symbol of breath too? that of the skies, the heavens, the universe itself? i am letting myself go a bit into this ornament that decorated the love story...  a simple sound handled with finesse and complete imagination... something that might have become utterly corny like many other things in the tale, but somehow didn't.

it's always been in the air... and it has been different, given a sign when they have sensed and felt each other, been attracted, taken note of the other, longed. in that first rabba vey, it was the wind that rushed in first, later when he thought she had left for lucknow but she hadn't, it was again there the moment she walked in with the sweets for anjali's anniversary... and later still on a day the electricity went, he walked into the house and felt her presence thanks to that susurrating sound of a breeze.

and today after many days of not seeing one another, of constantly wanting to see the other, of fearing yet loving fearlessly, of suffering yet loving with pure joy, they are on either side of a wall...

we could all see it was a cardboard structure... it shook every time barun or sanaya touched it. sometimes it just moved on its own, perhaps even the gust of wind too much to bear. the otherwise realistic set was suddenly reduced to what it was... a tacky tv serial set... where possibly the funds were already on the wane.

and yet, it really didn't matter.

what i saw was so beautiful, that's what counted.

the writing of this meeting was done with great care and empathy with very specific asr khushi notes in it; the direction was intricate; lighting, editing, sound... everywhere there was the creative person's interest and effort showing. and oh the acting. without a word, with minimum gestures, how two actors made me believe yes, it is possible to feel the other even through a thick impenetrable wall.

two people deeply involved do probably sense each other... i at least think so. and there is a coming together of prana, breath maybe in them too. khushi and asr have spent many months together, seeing, hearing, feeling things, over time perhaps a sixth sense about each other has grown. no, not perhaps, it has... and kidnap was the ideal time to explore it. 

in the godown, she awakens, "yeh kaisi jagah hai, hum yahan kaise pahunche?" what sort of a place is this, how did i get here? then she seems to recall that rocky hit her. she looks around flustered, disoriented... tense.

rocky with his scorpion tattoo was reminiscent, for me, of shakaal with his odd shoe size in yaadon ki baraat... an obvious little giveaway that leads the protagonist to some major find/truth. filmi, hindi filmi, but it brought her here to this wall.
beautiful first shot of him, mysterious, fleeting, he sits on the other side... then a closing up and a good look at the captive.

he was flopped against the wall, perhaps a wave of hopelessness washing over him when he heard it... the gust came from nowhere and halted him in his tracks, eyes registered it... something, what was that... out there.

and an instant or less later, her head stopped moving jaggedly, her thoughts changed track , she had heard it too... it touched her...

piano notes trilled in...a feeling you have felt looking into each other's eyes, facing each other, it perhaps finds ways to imprint itself in you and you begin to sense the other even when that one is not right before you.

there was energy and movement in the frame at once, his eyes darted, no lack of focus, worry, fear, nothing in it anymore; only a search... perhaps a lick of hope.

hey hey.

she turned her head... focus coming into her eyes too... behind her maybe there was something?

his head turned toward the same wall between them... sensing. yes a cardboard wall that shook, but the density and of expression...

she looked at the wall in wonder... what was behind it, why did it call her...

he turned further, his ears straining it seemed to catch a clue, something... what was there...

and the next level of longing... of sensing, a hand came up. touch. her fingers traced a path up the wall, searching.

the sense of sound is the last to go i hear, is it the first to be alerted?... do we "hear" our instinct?

he moved in to touch the wall too...

and as she felt him through that wall, her memories unshackled... a cascade released that they both felt and touch and immersed in. a moment of pure connection between two people who were connected in ways even they had no idea of...

is this love? is this the ideal we seek ? is there something biological here? or is it just plain fantasy that has no basis in what really happens? would we be fools to believe in such things...? yet haven't we felt things about those we connect to without there being a rational basis for it? and love, is it not inherently extra-logical... extra-rational? my favourite logical vulcan, spock, never quite understood it. in a way, my dear handsome asr was vulcanish... till it was time to be human and perfectly, headily utterly illogical.

the first memory: it's the first rabba ve...he looks stunned at her. is that when the absolute anchoring happened and that thread that started with a snap picked its first real perfect pearl?

back in the present: he brought his other hand up, wanting to feel her, touch her with all of him... always this need in him... where is she? is she here? there's only one person who makes him feel this way... no other. is she here? his fingers felt the wall almost full of wonder... hope, yes... only hope... and longing maybe. for many days he has sat in a dark room, bound... he has summoned his will, his courage to free his hands, he has worked his mind to think. but in his heart a yearning he has spoken of, khushi, i love you, and then has had to leave alone. but now perhaps that longing erupts... completely taking him away from every rational thought and flinging him into a torrent of hope. there was a sense of inevitability perhaps seeping into the darkness and now it seems shaken..

the next memory: colour. touch. feelings. on a rangoli they lie... what happens to our emotions when they fly around and settle here and there leaving colour, marking their place?

she stares at the wall in wonder. it seems to say something. she has not seen him for days, she has worried, fretted, dreamed, feared the worst... arnav ji is all her heart has focused on. nothing else. maybe that's why there was the sensitivity in her that was needed to feel the call...

a memory: and he touches her... she feels it on her ankle, a payal slipping on...

a funny sort of accepting in both that this is no coincidence or hallucination. she articulates it, "aise kyun lag raha hai jaise arnav ji yahin kahin hain?" why does it feel as though he is here somewhere?

his eyes say the same. a little lifting of lips as a memory overwhelms him... of picking her up and making her sit up on bed, taking care of her... ah nainital, so long ago, even before he had any idea this might be love, even when he was with another.

she seems to catch the drift of that same memory and recalls what came after. she had run to him in the hospital.

the feeling is to real, it seems to galvanize him, he gets up from the floor, and tries to reach up and look at the other side through the ventilator... a kiss by a poolside flashes through their minds...

hear, touch, want,... stages of connection.

her eyes grow keener, searching...

both are ready to move toward each other... here, right here.

from an inner space a leap is taken, a boundary scaled and a need lands on the hard harried floor of a warehouse.

both get up and look around for a way to reach something. a note of desperation. restless to find out if what they suspect is indeed true.

and it's time for the next sense. sound. to speak the word. on her lips, "arnav ji," with her eyes closed, as though it is a prayer... but then, isn't it? the lover's name in its purest most sacred call is a call to the eternal... to life itself, isn't it?

arnav ji.

we see him straight after that call. he has heard it... yes, he has... music takes note. an energy a racy urgency in it now, a dynamism, an excitement.. a sense of right here right now.

khushi?

one word... changes everything.

she is here. 

his entire focus shifts... she is here. his head turns and this time unerringly it finds the ventilator that looks into the room abutting

he's at the wall again and a sotto voce, throbbing, "khushi!"

her eyes are still shut... then she hears it...eyes open wide.

she is here and in him a vigour fresh and ascendant... khushi!

he's trying to reach her, calling out, straining against the wall, possibly already thinking how to break it down...

khushi!

but she is almost hyperventilating... disbelieving... relief mixing with pent up emotions.

they stand on either side of a ridiculous cardboard wall calling out to each other as though an ocean separates them... just because of the power of acting, i am convinced it does.

"arnav ji, arnav ji!" a smile in her through the tears... "woh woh yahin hain!" he is here.

khushi!

khushi! he is beside himself with emotions of all sorts.. and oh the energy flowing rushing whirling into him... man taking command, taking charge. who cares who is the captive and who the captor... he is asr and his wife is on the other side of the wall and he is going to get her...

not for a second did i doubt he would. no matter what the needs of the narrative, he would get to her. defying the writers and directors, even channel if need be.

she cries clinging to the wall as he calls her, bangs the wall... like that phone is this wall to her, something that has her arnav ji... and he ready to scale it because it parts him from her.

"khushi, khushi, upar ki taraf dekho, ventilator hai..." look up, khushi, there's a ventilator above.

solutions he has looked for all his life, especially when emotions have overwhelmed him. now too. look for a way to solve this situation.

"haan hume dikhi... ek minute ek minute," yes, i have seen, one minute...

she feels the flow of life asserting instantly. there is a way to him... she will solve this problem too... khushi always took action as well, once she had focused on an issue.

he has found a chair and reached the ventilator looking down, "khushi" he calls.

and then the sweetest thing. "khushi dhyan.. dhyan se..." khushi, careful! tender urgent voice and like a blessing, ah a note of asr anger, clenched teeth too... "be care.. careful khushi...!"

where is dammit... when the dammit is here all is right with the world... such specific characterisation. 

she looks up at the voice, then climbs up onto the box and her first sight of him in days... rabba vey had to burst forth, her heart... it's all her heart talking

and his.

brilliant use of rabba vey to say it all... it gushes forth... no soft trilling in...

a look, a smile, a tear... and a hand reaches the mesh in between, a need to touch, to feel assured, it is you, you are here.

his fingers rise to meet hers. there are doubles and fake walls, but there is a real feeling. and a song too.

as he touches her fingers, the girl to leave whom he only feels taqleef and who maybe for a short while he had feared he may not see, asr is simply moved to tears... this is khushi and he can touch her, see her, hear her.

the love of his life, someone he had never ever thought he would find, in fact how securely he had locked every door to that possibility, yet she had found her way. found her way to him... found him.

i can't believe it's you she wept, exhausted by the emotions of what seems like a lifetime.

"khushi, main..." his voice was tender... what did he want to say?

"akhir humne aapko dhoond hi liya..." i did find you finally, she said jubilant and maybe still a little disbelieving.

he nods with the sweetest smile and then, "dhoond liya tumne." the delivery was outstanding i thought... crisp, cool and dense, with wonder and love in it.

she did find him despite all. and he loved her because she found him... him that had receded so deep within that nothing could reach... she did reach it.

magic moments between two lovers in a darkened miserable place where danger lurked yet was somehow made irrelevant... because dhoond liya tumne, because khushi, i love you... because of a wind you can feel and a song in your being.

she leaned closer as he looked at her as if recording her every little nuance and storing it in him.

she peered at him and a gaze that said she worried.

he reassured her, "khushi, i'm fine!"

"nahin!" her voice was not tender. it was irritated and full of angry love...

with a right she had never shown before, she stormed, you are not well, i knew you were in trouble. why did you lie to me on the phone?

he tried to handle it. "khushi, stop..."

"nahin! hum nahin rukenge..." she is not stopping, she is the aap shut up girl, she is not going to listen to you just because you are asr.

beautiful. normal rhythms of asr khushi surging in...

she is angry, he is trying to stop her. but she rants, i know you aren't ok so why are you lying to me...

how much love is there in every word, every look.

these two actors are not shooting together, yet the matching of emotions the perfect rally of words... not for a second falters.

"khushi, shh!" he knows she is concerned.. otherwise how dare anyone talk to asr like that...

"ok.. hum sab kuch discuss kar lenge..." we'll discuss everything.

i feel like giggling... how much this man abhors melodrama and high emotion. all the time trying to pull it down to a reasonable "normal" level.

of course, he had to fall for jhalli drama queen. life's law that is.

"pehle mujhe yeh grill todni hogi..." first i have to break this grill.

she grabs his hand, you are going nowhere, mister.

"khushi, tum chahti ho main tumhare paas aaon..." khushi, you want me to come to you? gently, softly, he asks rhetorically... she was only eight when her loved ones were suddenly gone... maybe he knows how vulnerable she is... a child within still hurting... like him.

he reasons with her...

she won't let go still... he will not shout today, instead, a hand comes up to join their clasped fingers, and, "khushi, main tumhare paas hi hoon, yahin pe." khushi, i am near you... here.

he has never ever spoken to her with his feelings so bare, though he has longed to, now that he has said what he has, that she is before him, the tenderness of the most angry i don't care man sees no need not to flow...

i love you says his every look, every word...

all he wants is her... nothing else.

when she tries to help him with the grill.. "khushi, no, don't! main kar loonga, tumhe lag jaygi.." i'll do it, you'll get hurt... i want to weep. the writing of asr in this different moment is flawless.

"khushi, i said neeche utro..."  khushi, i said get down.

"nahin, hum yahan..." no, i here...

imaptient move of head, "khushi, go now..." a peek of asr anger, so natural and a beautiful detail.

"dhyan se! khushi, you ok?"

no doubt now who is in charge.

"arnav ji!" she panics when she can't see him for an instant.

"khushi, main yahin hoon, i'm right here"... the voice is sure, the look is full of softness.

"main yeh grill todkar uss taraf aa rahan hoon, okay?" i'll break this grill and come to the other side, okay?

"relax."

i pass out quietly at that relax, so so asr.

and there's an an interruption by rocky. when asr realises his girl was touched by the cretin, a sharp, "usne mara tumhe?" he hit you? the anger is here...

"ek tarah se accha hi hua warna hum aap tak kaise pahunch paatey..." in a way it was good, she said, how'd i have reached you otherwise.

he strains in anger.

and suddenly his concern for her makes him furious... he says paradoxically, what was the need for you to come here! how did you get here! "khushi tumhe... tumhe kuch ho jata toh." khushi, if something happened to you...

and we are on a road... at night when he had felt he might have lost her...

arnav singh raizada can bear everything but not losing khushi.

"itna bada risk leni ki kya zaroorat thi..?" what was the need to take such a big risk?

she is smiling, he is raging.

"khushi, what's so funny! muskara kyun rahi ho!" he is rough and angry.

"itne din jo ho gaye aapke daant sunke," it's been so many days since i heard your scolding.

joyous writing... stupendous acting.

kyun dard hai itna plays... she smiles at him as he looks on at her touching her fingers, giving in to that love. no one, he perhaps feels, loves him as much as this pagal of his. the one who puts mango juice in shoes, and sugar in petrol tanks, and who wants him to shout at her.

all the sadness and longing of the days gone by seep into the frame, as two lovers meet and unite, no matter there is a wall in between...

was this not true uniting too, a consummation? with both hands they grab each other. a rope is passed between the mesh by both as he devises a way to take out the grill.

"you told me tumhe pata hai main musibat mein hoon... kaise..."

khushi, you said you knew i was in trouble... how.

khushi, i love you... she remembers.

that string between them held taut by him, there was always a tie, a dori, a rishta. great touch.

the breath... the wind... khushi and asr to me were always about life. never death. to be immortalised they did not need to die like heer ranjha, romeo juliet, laila majnu... they were the lovers of our times who could rave rant fight scream misunderstand nahin understand and love deeply passionately imaginatively, emotionally, physically, with telepathy, and in a way be in the moment and yet transcendent.

this meeting between any two lovers would have been memorable. but this one was so truly khushi asr, including gussa and sanka.

asides
that setting up of a night away using mami ji and her sudden love... stay with your family to khushi... while a bit obvious, filled me with delight... the hugs are here and so is the hut.

what was that whole payal in a restaurant with coffee drinker about? was something considered then canned? or was it truly time pass... maybe  a screen test for the guy... strange to say the least.



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