of nafrat and mohabbat

"kyunki main tumse nafrat karta hoon... because i hate you." 

"hum bhi aap se nafrat karte hain... jitni aap karte hain usse kahin zyada... kyunki koi aap se pyaar kare aap uske layak hi nahin hain, mr raizada... aap sirf nafrat ke kayak hain!"

"i hate you too... much more than you hate me... because that one should love you, you aren't fit for it, mr raizada... you are only fit for hating!"

his eyes had turned sad and lost after he'd declared his hate, flinging it at her like his ultimate weapon. his body had jerked with the force of it, his voice had started low and suddenly risen high to tear through the night, echo across the poolside, where once he'd stood thinking of her, holding her payal, where once he'd put that payal back on her ankle, where he'd kissed her almost, and then stolen a kiss that first time, where he'd smiled at a girl who said she'd had to put mango juice in his shoe because they'd run out of orange juice.

but tonight he just hated her standing here. clearly, absolutely, passionately. didn't we hear him say that just now?

then why did his eyes look so terribly sad, were there tears reddening them? why did they move away from her face? why did he not say a word as she looked at him tears streaming down her face, aching and hurt and in tumult and declared right back to him... she hated him just as much. in fact, more?

and why for h's sake as they looked at each other, speechless after all that hate, did rabba vey play so trilling, so sure, so true?

was this perhaps their first open absolute declaration of love?

after that moment on the terrace, was this perhaps the only place love could stay, safely ensconced in hate, perhaps even turned to it? did that essential matter that makes up love, that energy, quickly undergo a change so that it may live and not die at the hands of terrible betrayal, one so unthinkable he couldn't even bring himself to ask her why?

and look how wonderfully he'd managed to ignite the same feeling in her. for she needed it no doubt, or else what was she to do with all those smiles tumbling in her heart as she had waited for him on the terrace, all her little murmurings within, that whispered that thrilled and said it's time to go has has ke pagal, because arr...nav ji was coming to tell her why he had to talk to her... bas karni hai. what was she to do with that feeling now that he'd made her life a living hell and she had no idea why.

oh that nafrat, without it where would pyaar be.

he struck hard against the abrasion in his heart and lit the fire of hate, she let it touch her tear soaked feelings and rise into a magnificent flame.

a flame that would burn forever, hamesha. that would keep them together through times of trouble, never letting indifference tear them asunder... because in it was that inordinate thing, that thing without which we would not hope, and it was called vishwaas.
 

tumhari lau ko pakadke jalney ki Aaarzoo meinj

jab apne hi aap se lipat ke sulag raha tha
bata to us waqt main kahaan tha
bata to us waqt too kahaan thi 
 in the hope of holding your flame and burning
when i clung to myself and smouldered
tell me, where was i at that time
tell me where were you at that time

~~~ gulzar ~~~

the shadi karni hogi episodes

  nafrat paas aane na de mohabbat door jaane na de... iss pyaar ko kya naam doon?

episode rambles 
fan fiction

 

episode 196 nafrat at last (vm)

"janna chahti ho ki kyun tumhe suffer karte hue dekhna chahta hoon?! kyunki main tumse nafrat karta hoon!"

want to know why i want to see you suffer, he roared, his voice opening out and hitting decibels that strike the eardrum, that dash against the heart.

"because i hate you!"

she looked at him horrified, another layer of incomprehension and pain invading, still no idea why this has happened. what made him do what he did. and now... now this hate. her tears gleamed.

he watched her, a letting go it seemed after the words had been said. maybe the meaning of what he'd uttered just hit him... he seemed unable to hold her gaze. he looked away.

"hum bhi aapse nafrat karte hain...  jitni aap karte hain, usse se kahin zyada..."

i too hate you, she countered at last, face contorting, a force in her voice, fire and hurt combating for turf in her eyes. yes, she hated him.

"kyunki koi aapse pyaar kare aap uske layak hi nahin hai, mr arnav singh raizada. nafrat karte hain hum aapse... nafrat... kyunki aap sirf nafrat ke layak hain!"

because you are not fit to be loved by anyone, mr arnav singh raizada. i hate you... hate... because you're only fit for that.

love. did she mention love? pyaar?

i hate you. i hate you too. an equal and absolute emotion they both had... no no, she hated him more.

they looked at each other having found their mark and slaying the opponent. there was nothing else to be said, but look at each other, just look.

the moment had to be gathered close and cherished, for within it lay a germ of a feeling that struggled to live, even as the darkness snuffed it out or tried to. and so the music trilled in, their music, their refrain... they hated each other after all, rabba vey.

an exquisite moment in a love story. 

 

click here: vm your junoon your karaar

over the last few days emotions have been roiled and churned and played with, hysteria has been rising, there's been confrontation but no answers given, no solace or calm achieved. and now efforts are on to bring coherence through ritual and custom, almost ignoring the latent heat of the situation, maybe all this has taken things to a boiling, no annihilating, point. suddenly the senses blow, the dam bursts... and it's time to hate. for you so need to want to have to and do love.

the day was weary making, unbearable for him and her. he couldn't watch her being taunted by his aunt. he couldn't believe her mother refused to speak to her. he couldn't stay immune to her pain. maybe he couldn't take his own battering of her. he paced in his room hurting. he had hurt her more than anyone else he knew that... you mean nothing to me. he'd said. and thrown her out of their bedroom. he ached. but then came the voices, the visuals, jammed in his head a terrace's treachery. hum sirf aapko chahte hain, khushi ji!... aap ye shadi tod kyun nahin dete?! i only want you, khushi! why don't you end this marriage?!

suffocation. he needed to get out of his waistcoat... his room. quick, angry movements, asr signatures. he needed respite from that mess of thoughts. so he sat by the poolside... but he wasn't free of his feelings... neither the longing. nor the torment.

a turmoil of images and sounds within him. fabulously crafted storm by creatives, use of the two aspects of the medium: sound and visual, dramatically and viscerally, creating many dimensions, giving girth and structure to the madness in the mind.

khushi... in the rain the two of them... ab tum meri patni ho sirf chhay mahine ke liye, now you're my wife for only six months, it's his voice... he is putting sindoor on her as she weeps... khushi ji humari zindagi ban chuki hai! humara pagalpan, khushi has become my life, my passion, shyam is screeching... in the guest house, khushi and he... aur ab hum dono ke beech mein sirf ek rukawat hai! raanisahiba! now between us there's only one hurdle! anjali! shyam again... wrapped in fairylights the girl he loves and he takes the wires off her slowly... hum sirf aapko chahte hain, khushi ji! i only want you, khushi ji, says shyam... and then that sight of shyam enfolding khushi in his arms... and khushi's voice exhorting shyam to break the marriage with anjali.

the ultimate betrayal. the girl he loves, his sister's enemy.

she has had a terrible day. tired and bereft, she picks up her quilt and sheets, coming outside, ready to sleep on the poolside floor. by mistake she knocks against the table.

that's all it takes. he flies into a rage. 

what the... her jagah mera peechha kyun kar raho ho... stop following me everywhere, he yells through violently gritted teeth. she is taken aback, she has no idea that her thoughts have not left him alone even for a minute the entire day. he is worn down by it all... his own sense of guilt perhaps along with that terrific pain thinking khushi is not ever going to be his and then the notion that she is having an affair with shyam, compounding all this his desperate bid to save his sister and this bizarre marriage. the chot in his heart is throbbing, drawing blood.

"chali jao yahan se.. just get out of here!" his voice is losing control, he is yelling.

she's angry too. it's all gone on for too long, and all the hurt from everywhere the whole day. khushi is no moper, she is a born fighter. his anger sparks hers instantly.

she flings the bed clothes onto the floor. beautiful.

if you can't stand me, why did you marry me, why did you bring me here... she hurls her questions at him. she complains to him about her mother disconnecting the call. something terribly touching there, as if he is the only one she can bring her broken heartedness to, she wants to... because after all it's all his fault.

anjali ji, nani ji sab humse naraaz hain... sirf aapk vajah se. anjali ji, nani ji, everyone is angry with me, just because of you, she shouts back.

and so, whatever i feel like doing, i'll do... bravo. this is beginning to sound like a rollicking fight, between lovers, between husband and wife, between life partners.

i'll shout if i want to... and you can't stop me.

she pushes him, she prods... he must be happy to see her so unhappy, happy that she has lost all her ties, she's again orphaned.

she shoves him and reflexively he grabs her arms. both are hurtling in a space within, driven by insane pain.and he yells, yes, happy, he is happy to see her in the state, because he has done all this to watch her suffer... because he hates her.

the opposite of love isn't hate. it's indifference.
 

and when the environment is not one where love can be expressed, what will keep it alive, burning, inflamed, central. why, hate, of course. "nafrat paas aane na de, mohabbat door jaane na de" at last we come to the premise with which ipk started... just that things have gotten more complex, nafrat it is now that keeps them close, holding the fort for mohabbat.

she walked away, her anger still raw. he lost it and took it out on objects all around. such a human real sequence. another kind of love making on the poolside. broke my heart though. and no one was really acting, were they. i am still thinking of how her hair blew a bit as rabba vey came in. it should have looked corny, it didn't. touched the heart, emphasised the beauty of the moment. 

the other wonderful thing was khushi's angry chat with dm. this is her friend, her confidante, her mentor, how could she stand and watch as a rakshas came and dragged her off to a temple. aapne aisa hone kaise diya! khushi demands of her deity. in the best tradition of personal god, the idea of ishta devata, devi maiyya is khushi's own connection to divinity... her loving trusting clean heart connects to dm... in another scenario, dm would probably be her imaginary friend, a hobbes.

i am weary (and wary) of religion being dragged into stories just to generate trp, also of all tv heroines habitually having to have a personal deity... heroes rarely do, ours of course is an atheist. why must girls constantly be seen relating with god? otherwise what? we are not good, not wife material, not achhi ladki? usually all the mutterings of kanha ji and ganpati ji and shiv ji, set my teeth on edge, but sanaya's khushi did a marvelous thing with dm. she made their interaction natural, khushi like, no good girl doses here, thankfully. and with that khushi let us know exactly how terribly important this relationship was for her...for her very survival in fact, her sense of well being.

but now she's mad at dm. the young orphan girl, who will she be angry with? that rakshas she's married to, of course, but also devi maiyya... so she will not be talking to her or giving her prashad, she will find a new friend in fact. so there.

always enjoyed the fact that khushi was no doormat.  and when she spoke of how she took a cue from dm's smile, deciding that was the way to be... to face all life's troubles with a smile, i thought... attagirl. rarely does television portray a girl like this, upbeat confident loving and spirited.

a poignant sequence without being maudlin at all... and there a gorgeous hate that makes you cry and smile.

the shadi karni hogi episodes

.........

episode rambles 
fan fiction

click here: vm your junoon your karaar

your junoon your karaar... a vm

click here: vm your junoon your karaar

an experiment... trying to tell a story in sound, song, words, etchings... coming together, not flowing a linear course. no idea if it worked. had fun making it and learned a little more about imovie. do let me know your thoughts. i really wished i had had hd visuals for this one, might have been able to do it a little differently in terms of colours and effects... however i like them even severely pixelated and i did enjoy watching the vm... maybe hmm because i made it? teehee.

two music tracks... one is the song tu hi junoon from dhoom 3, sung by mohit chauhan and the other, the first movement of tchaikovsky's sixth symphony in b minor.

translation courtesy bollymeaning.com

music: pritam chakraborty
singer: mohit chauhan
lyrics: kausar munir
translated by: harshit gupta
tu chharahari dhoop hai
tu karaari shaam
dil kahe barbaad ho jaaun
le ke tera naam

you're slender sunlight,
you're crispy evening,
the heart wishes that i destroy myself
with your name on my lips.
tu jale to din chadhe
tu bujhe to raat
dil kare kurbaan karoon
tujh pe apni jaan

when you rise, the day begins,
when you're extinguished, it's night.
the heart says that i should sacrifice
my life on you..
tu hi junoon, tu hi karaar
tu hi junoon, tu hi karaar

you're the passion, and you're the peace too.. taare saare ke saare
thagne lage hain ab mujhe
din mein sapne dikhaane
lagne lage hain ab mujhe

all the stars have begun to cheat me..
they have begun to show me dreams during the days..
tu bandhi zanjeer hai
tu kasakti heer
dil kare tere liye
rakh doon dil ko cheer

you're a tied chain,
and you're the aching lover..
the heart wishes that for you,
i rip my heart apart.. tu thirakta teer hai
do dhaari talwar
dil kare hanste hue
le loon tere waar

you're the dancing arrow,
the double edged sword,
the heart wishes that I take
all your attacks with a smile..
tu hi junoon, tu hi karaar
tu hi junoon, tu hi karaar

aasmaan siyaah ghulne laga sa hai
baadlon ka dil khulne laga sa hai
tu mila khila din, raat dhal gayi
daag chaand ka dhulne laga sa hai
likh diya dil ki kalam se tumhara naam
baandh ke taaveez main pehnoon subaho shaam

the dark sky has begun to dissolve,
the heart of clouds has begun to open,
when you met, the day blossomed, the night ended..
the spot in the moon has begun to get washed (and the moon is clearer)
i have written your name with the heart's pen.
Now i wear it day and night as a talisman.. tu jale to din chadhe
tu bujhe to raat
dil kare kurbaan karoon
tujh pe apni jaan

tu hi junoon, tu hi karaar
tu hi junoon, tu hi karaar...

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

episode rambles

fanfiction

note: no copyright infringement intended. this is really fan appreciation, and nothing else. there's no monetary or commercial involvement in this endeavour. the songs, visuals, music belong to original copyright owners.

episode 241 wedding night blues

a man torn... his action, his intention, the consequence all garbled up... a sense of guilt and disquiet in him. asr recalls khushi in a quandary at being asked about her wedding day...

his eyes close in that characteristic asr gesture, when something troubles him at a deeper level, when his feelings flow into pits and crannies within and he struggles to find his way back, lest the darkness behind the lids claim him.

the eyes closing and then closed, which in itself is not such an unusual thing, somehow when barun did it as asr it took on all sorts significance, seemed to say so much. the intense pain it indicated, every single time, har baar...

he remembers threatening her, making her agree to a six month marriage...

his sadness, his contrition at having to resort to such measures, is perhaps reflected in a rabba ve...

bua ji interrupted his reverie. i loved the completely true to character acting in a simple little moment by abha parmar... these are the things that kept pulling ipk to a better place, making it more and memorable.

when she leaves after an unbelievably natural "kisssore" (i wonder if she improvised or the director called for it)... he turned and the lilting notes of  rabba ve filled the screen, his thoughts, that thoughtful air, the sadness, the remorse in the pores of the scene melding with the notes...

"lekin doosri file?" but the other file, asr frowns wondering. barun is looking dishy as always but extremely thin, a little pulled down. this is 30 april, the rave rant about the leave to make mamr has started... finally he worked on both sets. one scammed him and pretended it was all his fault the show ended. the other kept saying how all was well, but well, no movie yet.

i hope for the sake of this actor who never let the size of the screen interfere with the size of his acting, that the movie is released. i remember how excited he was, and i was excited for him. (mamr released two years later... and didn't do well, though barun as sukhi was poignant and memorable.)
he actually thinks she may have hidden his stuff as she had threatened to... if this man is arnav singh raizada and not some good damad as prescribed by television writing which thrives on stereotypes... then really this is unbearable for him, his things in disarray, stuffed all over the place, no place to move, to sit... to work.

a meticulous finicky man, who lives in his spare stark room with his spare wardrobe to a side, suddenly here, his routine gone, and what happened to people going to work...

he finds the file and feels relieved. then thoughts go to the mad wife who he was sure had messed with his things and hidden the file somewhere... he had recalled her saying in that cute khushi way, if you irritate me i will hide everything. knowing her and suffering as he has over the past few days, he was willing to believe it. he had even thought she had stolen all the spare parts of the car... considering the public bath, the ittr, and lipstick kisskiss on the handkerchief, the mooh dikhai, even the trick to get him here, plus the war cry: aaj mausam hai suhana/laad gov ko satane ka hai bahana... and many other things, who could blame him for surmising that.

always touched me that no matter what she did, and even though he got really angry at times, he pretty much let her do as she pleased, didn't demolish her the way he would have if it were anyone else. the terrace had hurt him unbearably, his dil, dimaag, nothing was left in a state to function normally. he had opted for a violent response. ultimately assessing that the only thing to do was to marry her forcibly and of course hate her forever.

but he had not been able to do that last thing. yes, his dimaag held on to the negative feeling but his heart just kept insisting on flowing to her, break the barrier set up by the dimaag. again, in itself this is not a great original thought, many love stories follow this path, but the way an actor convinced me of it... how terribly desirable he made the emotion arnav singh raizada felt. you almost wished your devoted lover would come running into the room and say, i hate you... with that storm of emotion in his eyes, his breath ragged, his shoulder thrown back and rigid, his jaws hard, his whole body tense.

the other thing i was touched by was the understanding of a character shown by writer and actor... with khushi and only khushi is an escape to childhood allowed for a man who had to grow up at 14. he had grown up overnight. a major stage of life truncated. happy, wicked, funny, hormonal adolescence.

khushi seemed to be the playmate at times he had not had time to have. why she and no one else? maybe because she had the power of the innocent child in her... absolutely untainted. the world of adults with its convolutions had taken him over... he had had to struggle and fight and prevail here... the child in him, who put glue on chairs (alas that is the only instance one has reference of) had had to just be submerged deep.

till a true innocent came along and touched that spot in him.

her guile free childlike element, so very fascinatingly portrayed in early episodes... i am giggling at the thought of the jalebi making scene that very first time, her jharu dance, her rushing after him in the darga and pouting angrily that this devil thinks he is bigger than bhagwan, her playing blind man's bluff with teehee op, her seriously cogitating then fixing the mistah by putting sugar in his oil tank... a genuine innocent playfulness she has... a true touch of sanka that gives her character strength... she can break through the dark world that the adult builds with her sharp sunny child thing.

had khushi's ott been handled with the thought through writing of the very early episodes we might have had an abs winner here, the episodes that don't enthrall me.

both khushi and asr were understood terribly well by writers, and the actors added such depth... he can let go of his ever responsible and serious air and actually play a bit with her, enjoy his life. he doesn't admit it, but a part of him adores the sanka and the silliness, for it is divine stuff, untouched and ununderstood by mere mortals.

(an aside: my husband has seen maybe 5 episodes of ipk and that too a while ago, the other day while watching aishwarya in dhoom 2 which was on on tv and we were too lazy to change the channel, he said, there's a bit of khushi in her... and another day when he saw a scene from madhubala, he was clear, ah she's trying to do a khushi... how powerful is a character that gets etched in a non ipk watcher's mind in just 5 episodes.)

from way back a movie called "mili" comes to mind. badi sooni sooni hai zindagi yeh zindagi...

credit: uploader

amitabh, this dark grim adult who is burned by life and has lost his smile, his feelings. jaya, an innocent girl who is sunny and untainted. she does get through to him and help him find his happier self. she dies in the end. i am eternally grateful, khushi lived and continued to be strange, totally ajeeb. 
 
a definite smile as he thinks of his mad wife, what he'd been thinking, huh!

he is a 27 year old guy, not an old man all experiences done... this is the first time he has felt youthful and vibrant... did he really plan on having a wedding like that?

a tenderness for his sweetheart... and of course, the shiny pedestrian wrapping paper had to peep out and shatter the calm, the giddy feeling growing.

in that frame of mind loving her with a glint in his eyes, he pulled out the paper, ghastly and tacky... "pagal hai..." he made love to her with three syllables.

he lifted it up to read a card... "to khushi," his voice just curious... "with love," he is getting angry, nose flares, eyes go steely, and through clenched teeth... "shyam!" short, clipped furious.

a paper is crumpled, eyes lose love.
(the card actually read, "dear khushi" i think, a little mistakiya.)

nicely detailed scene of dulha coming, a very happy khushi is evident. she loves weddings...

boy's mama mami start the obnoxiousness. ladkewale checking out house, food, stuff... why is this even allowed in our land these days... why can't girls just speak up... i get into a complete asr mindset when i see this sort of thing. enough!

even before entering the room, the demands and the lack of courtesy. with what sense of ethics does a culture that thinks it is evolved and deep and non-materialistic in its underpinnings, justify this crass unbelievably ugly "norm" that actually people go ahead and honour? what ladkewale ladkiwale, how is one less than the other.

"aapko kauno sikayat ka mauka nahin milega..." you'll have no reason to complain. pathetic, isn't it, the way we pander to the ladka thing... patriarchy can be suffocating and who will change things if we are all running around trying to make sure there's no shikayat ka mauka...

at least the girl's mother shows some true feelings in her expressions. khushi actually smiles when her mother says there will be no "kami in khatirdari"... so it is alright to accept this thing... yet this very khushi on that first day had gone to talk to her sister's husband to be because she did not believe in such things.

i did not like the forced dialogues by khushi... all the good talk of achhi beti... and really it is a bit out of place... she is not tasked with making the whole world perfect... as i mentioned earlier had they written khushi with empathy through gh, we'd have a winner, here instead is loud writing with hardly any real understanding of character.

her narration of her wedding finery was beautiful and showed one side of her character, the side that has tears and struggles with them, covers them with her smiles... why was it okay to write that bit with empathy and not give her the strength of her characterstic sanka with integrity too? if they had shown her drawing the bridegroom aside and giving him a khushi like lecture might have seemed real, but all this out of place "wise" talk... ugh this is pedestrian serial heroine fare, constant know it all nonsense... when will we portray women with respect in our mass media... khushi had a queen in her... a rani, long before rani was even conceived, but nah, let's finish her off. i am angry.

and sanaya hammed not feeling the dialogues in her, can't blame her.

"khusie, tum andar jao... jao toh!" garima ji shooes her daughter away, garima and bua ji endearingly normal.

dulha's mama ji was a bad actor. his wife not much better.

asr is in a bad state. hand goes to the waistcoat buttons, that characteristic taking it out on something on his body, like ripping out his insides. his movements are jerky, his feelings run wild.

in this state she arrives, "suniye..."

instant reaction. his head jerks a little turning toward that voice.

"aap aa rahe hain na?" you are coming, aren't you? sangeet is about to start... she is happy and light, or tries to be, because a whole wedding is at their place, one must do the done thing. she does not want to think of what transpired earlier.

and he remembers, "hum sirf aapko chahte hain, khushi ji..." another nightmare from another wedding night is back.

"chhor dijiye anjali ji ko..." khushi is urging shyam to leave anjali in a voice almost manic. it was that but for a different reason, alas he did not know that.

a tension in the room, she is asking what happened, no idea what has happened, he is reaching a pitch of anger that can explode into anything, anytime...
 
i see beauty here... i see love here... it never bothered me that there was so much angst because it was pure unadulterated emotion expressed so perfectly... in this there is more love than two people smiling at each other, saying sweet things, long pans, slow motion, sugary niceness...

we are headed i felt to that terrace once more...

"kya hua... aap...theek toh hai?" what's the matter, you... are okay? doesn't he always ask that?

and he turns... fulminating anger all across his face, in the turn of body, his music...

she has no idea why... "kya hua, bataiye na" what's the matter, tell me... khushi is flummoxed... sanaya is still holding onto lightness, well felt execution. for he is deep and dark and dreadful night.

this balancing of two sides, the contrast... so delicate, life like.

he is about to retaliate and the drums start.

"aap itna gussa kyun hain?" why are you so angry?

she thinks it's the questions.

he is beside himself with anger... "khushi, bahar jaao!" fabulous love... this time he does not want to hurt her. he knows what happens when he feels like this. he has already done something he perhaps regrets whenever he thinks of it.

he knows he can do harm in this state. organic astounding anger... real trait of a real man.

"leave me alone."

but she won't.

aggression sparks aggression.

"god dammit, isse pehle ki main kuch kar doon, dafa ho jaao yahan se..." before i do something, get out of here.

violence in the air now... he has to get her out he knows he can't keep calm with her in front of him... this is a man hurting... betrayal reminds itself of its existnece on a wedding night again. he has seen his mother's world tumble on such a night, then his... and now once more.

this time, he was going to tell her though.

tonight he was not able to hold it in any more, he is so so tired so emotionally drained and crushed up against a wall breathless...

"kyunki maine wo..." because i that... the grain in the voice is rising letting go.

and someone knocks.

nice move by writers, we are building up arnav singh raizada's need to say it out loud, everything is pushing him to that point. but we will wait till the suicide attempt for it to finally burst out of him. why he is angry.

amma doesn't pick on the tension. a helpless girl walks out, a man stands looking away trying to breathe.

he can't go for the sangeet, he has lots of work...

old lady dances, the most active octagenarian in the world, she is there everywhere, wasn't she in gomti sadan too that first episode?

mami talks of the "tevar" of khushi's husband... you might say he has a bit of that.

bua ji actually reacts to this and goes to call him.

"titaliya, kaa hua hai?" bua ji sees her niece looking forlorn in the kitchen,  at least for a while she is not smiling... felt natural.

he is packing to leave... felt natural too. this reminder of that terrace he has had it, he needs to get out. unbearable the feeling of someone actually that close to khushi she keeps the wrapping paper in her drawer. i can imagine it feels like wild rampant intimacy to him...

he refuses bua ji too. and all would have gone to another point if he had not heard...

"itna sab kafi rahega?" will this be enough... and the tone hits him. he knows helplessness in a woman's voice maybe.

he hears about the sickening insults and demands. he is seething.

this is not how anyone should behave with anyone... the upbeat bua ji is trying to save the day with her chirpiness... helplessness all around... and in a little boy's heart, and in a grown up man's blood. how helpless he was that night while maa died, how helpless he is today before the "fact" that khushi loves another.

now it is not possible to stay inside. if he sees injustice, he must act... he moves toward the door...

he steps out, his eyes fall on the groom... interestingly he is angry with this man for not speaking up. even when he has hated his wife, even when she is not really his wife according to him, he has stood up for her. asr has a concept of what a man must do for a woman, how he must act.

he needs to know the name of the employee who was getting married...

the taunts are getting worse. even khushi is reaching the end of her tether. she starts talking trying to calm things... a note of sanka in her words...

"khushi, chup raho!"  he doesn't want his wife to talk to these crass folk... my take. the brusqueness, that is his way, and soon enough she will understand this... and if she wants to send him for therapy later ok, but by then she might find it too sexy to do anything about it.

"jaao doosri icecraem lekar aao... main arnav hoon, khushi ka husband." go get some icecream, he wants her nowhere near these sick folk. i am arnav, khushi's husband.

i want to die when i hear that voice and that sweet little declaration... khushi ka husband, not her swami, pati, pati devta... just her husband. just arnav... a part of his identity now that he is her husband. chay mahine ke liye or saat janam ke liye, arnie dahling? for six months or for seven lives? what does your kambakht dil desire?

did mama ji see the look on khushi ka husband's face when he instructed him to teach his wife how to talk to elders?

he controls his temper, in even voice, "koshish karoonga"...

and the two look at each other for another wordless, endless, most meaningful, completely loaded conversation just gazing at each other.

he gets a call, whips around to talk, and looks straight at dulhan.

he was 14, the dulhan was pretty, there was a gun shot.

"haan aman, make sure abhi ho, right now."

something in his eyes, anger pain memory determination... never again.

he goes back to the room, "aapki himmat kaise hui!" how dare you... she storms in.

"maine kaha tha na mere saamne mat ana," i had told you don't come before me... "main nahin chahta ki main kuch ulta seedha kar baithoon... aur woh bhi yahan..." he doesn't want to do something bizarre, that too here.

this is such a huge change for asr... he is actually trying to keep a rein on his temper. his gussa... thank g the dulha bungled, a fantastic place to channel asr's wrath. he needs to fix things, especially when overcome by extreme destructive anger. he needs to make, another major asr trait, construct... he will not shattering prevail. not the way it had that terrible sheesh mahal night.

"lekin aapne..." but you, khushi is in a mood to really have it out with him, enough! says her anger.

but another interruption now. the dulha has received a call.

"lekin... aise achanak?" dulha is nonplussed.

"hamari baat ko taliye mat.." don't ignore me, asr's wife commands.

"khushi, yahan se jaao..." go from here.

in the "maine..." to the incredulous dulha, the "i" there was barun absolute being asr... asr was there when he put the hand on the guy's shoulder... the writer will make a good damad song and dance now, but asr is alive and kicking despite that attempt to tame and fit him into the star plus idiot box.

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

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