episode 309 of huq and habits

somewhere along the way, you've become a habit. an adat of mine. and i have to hold on, i can't let you go. 

did arnav singh raizada ever think this would happen to him one day?

did khushi kumari gupta ever imagine she'd find little smiles peeping out of her at the yelling and barking and tender sweet scoldings of a rakshas. "wapas so jaao. so jaao." go back to sleep. go.

could he really not have extricated himself from the sleeping girl on the bed who'd tucked his hand under her cheek and gone home? yet as he looked at her, the slightest smile. a sense of melt. maybe his heart did a weird thing and took away all will to resist and he slipped gently onto the bed next to her. his eyes said this is what he longed to do. perhaps that's why subconsciously he had to find a way back to her tonight. for some unknown reason he'd gone home, but now he was here... and there was she.

his hand stole over hers, seeking... seeking... something only she could give him. even when she slept. even when she yelled and screamed and called him laad governor, even when she was in another man's arms.

her fingers curled over his. he closed his eyes, peace seeping in.

in the end, her leg went and settled on him. she took her huq even if she had no idea she was doing that. she slept comfortably next to him because he was her husband even if she had planned the great walk out and in just a few days all would be over.

of course, in the morning he had to ask her about her strange way of sleeping.. taekwondo queen style.

she said, it was her habit. and why should he object? she hadn't said anything about him holding her hand and sleeping.

you've become part of each other... as lovers do... as people who believe they are in a relationship that's forever, do. even if there is a contract ending, even if you legally break the tie...

a brusque masterful man who tries not to show his love. a crazy cooky girl who is miserable without him. a strange painful poignant funny tender thrilling place in the story of their lives... a kahani that certainly couldn't be told in do lavz, two words.. mainly because you didn't want to say it in just that... you just wanted the story to go on, through every twist and turn and bend and orange printed sheet covered bed... never end.

even if she is determined to bring it all to a full stop... in just eleven days.

had we really seen a track on the divorce of khushi kumari gupta and arnav singh raizada, would their romance have ceased, their pyaar, their huq and adat?

in fact, might be nice to see a tumultuous phase in their lives again... just to know how this pyaar that is impossible to label would walk through that stage.

serials have a way of flipping to bizarre extremes, a hunger for trp making them lose their sanity and letting story go anywhere, as long as it is not subtle, fine, delicate... for the game is to appeal to a wide audience, not targeted and niche at all.. so all out chaos is the way of most serials.

here, the tycoon intent on bringing his wife back home, played an amezing game. yeah, even his suddenly revealed construction/real estate company must have the zing of z in it.

so he bought her aunt's house, just to get her back home. whatever. what absolutely zinged it though was the fantastic acting again. and that sexy in tandem thing they have. whether dancing to teri meri or destroying his office in anger. 

really, would asr tell a receptionist that he wants his tenant to come home with him if she wants a cut on the rent? at how many levels is this whole thing just not him? yeah he can drag her to a temple and marry her but will he treat her like an object and pass along an insulting proposition via someone? then go running and slap another someone for calling her his floozy?

what the. 

but he is wearing purple and looking as only he does in that tycoonish mode. and she is wearing a multi coloured tent and flinging things around in frustration, looking at him with large helpless angry won't love you eyes... and she is telling him after living with him for so long, she has started writing her own kismet just like him, he's teasing her, baiting, and saying, just come home with me and all will be well. it does sound like a proposition. there's definitely a possessive mad c'mere in it... and so is a can't live without you, taekwondo queen too.

when he swivels around and says "shadi shuda,"... married, why do i sort of stop breathing? what is it about these two actors that suggests scenarios to my gut and skin, even before words to describe them have been found.

can i help you with demolishing the machine, he asks her. he is having fun. mainly because she is in front of him. that is all that matters, all that he wants.

i love arnav singh raizada in this go get state of mind. and kkgsr... how happy you looked when you got your 24k. yeah, you want to earn... be independent, and you can do it... not just in these serial rigged scenarios, in asli duniya. because sanaya irani has made sure you are never ever limited to the confines of a substandard, popular genre, even if her writers have made khushi pretty unreal in many ways.

two actors who have the talent to find their characters, and make them come alive. two actors who can turn to pure magic 20 to 21 minutes every weekday. two actors who can take anything the script doles out and make it work...

maybe i am holding your hand and sleeping, you adat of mine.


dialogues had me giggling.

aap? aap yahan kaise aaye?
you? how did you get here?

khirki se.
through the window. (alice and her rabbit hole come to mind.)

itni mehnat humse mehnat karwane ke liye?
working so hard, just to make me work?

khushi, mujhe neend chahiye!
khushi, i want sleep!

achha? lori sunaye...
yeah? shall i sing a lullaby?

ssso jao!!
go to sleep!

nahin stop so jaao i said so jao..
no stopt i said go to sleep.

sach?
really?

instant sleep a la kkgsr.

oye.

a nice "what the f..."

pata nahin kaise soti hai taekwondo pose mein. ghar mein toh aise nahin soti..
don't know the way she sleeps here in that taekwondo pose... doesn't sleep like that at home.

'scuse me? main kab tumhara haath... i guess yeh meri adat hai.
'scuse me? where have i your hand... i guess this is my habit. slightest stress on meri and a less than half si smile. how relaxed his face when he is sleeping by her.

achha aise lag raha hai jaise hum sadiyon se aapke gulam hain.
really? feels like i've been your slave for ages.

shut up, khushi.

chaubees hazaar rupay... chaubees gante ke liye... she earns... that smile.. that graze in his voice...

and right at the end, a dialogue from the godfather. he so reminds me of michael, at times vito.

mujhe laga maine tumhe aisa offer diya hai jo tum refuse nahin kar sakti.
i thought i'd made such an offer to you, you won't be able to refuse.

and the slightly thuggish mafia style of bringing home biwi operation continued.

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are you my habit?

he let his fingers trail gently over her palm and rested his hand on hers as he snuggled deeper into his pillow and lay for a moment just looking at her face. she slept on. a calm stole across his features, he inhaled long, his eyelids drooped shut, not a single line of tension or worry anywhere, only a quiet, a sense of coming home. her fingers curled over his as if on cue. a silence fell. yet i strained my ears to catch the faint sound of music i thought i could hear playing beyond the silence. 

reminded me of those moments while listening to a western classical symphony when all sound is diminished: pianissimo, soft very soft, when you think there's no sound, but there is, under all the surrounding silence there it is, sweet, even, holding on resolute. and gradually the conductor picks up the thread of that barely audible strain and raises it all the way back to forte and crescendo and even above. that fine thread of sound, the dor of life, of continuity.

i listened for that, and i fancy in the few seconds i was granted to look at them in that state of bliss on the narrow ridiculous bed, i did hear its quiet melody. it was in the ease of their breathing, the relaxed lines of their bodies as they lay together; in sleep forgetting all their troubles, all their ego, their sturm und drang.

just minutes before they were sparring, he was quite irritable in his sleep deprived state. she had slumped deep into slumberland instantaneously at his bark of "so jao." after an initial "oye" and "what the f-" he'd cleaned up the mess, carried her to her bed, was not as gentle as you'd think he'd be when he saw her hand clutching his collar, was all set to tuck her in and leave the not so customary window way, when in her sleep she pulled his hand and with full ownership tucked it under her cheek refusing to let go.

he looked at her and knew he had to give in, he wanted to give in. he lay down without disturbing her and reached for her hand.

the music returned, growing louder but delicately. why does she sleep like a taekwondo queen here, he wondered in his head. why do you sleep like that here, you don't sleep like that at home, he asked her as she woke up. she was taken aback to find him before her, sharing her bed. caught her off guard. so what, she snapped back, it's my habit, i don't say anything to you about holding my hand and sleeping. 

the charming discovery of his hand grasping hers. a funny joy just flitting across his face: i guess, it's a habit of mine.

the music moved up, only a notch though and as delightfully as the hint of a smile on her face at his "aadat".

he left with a forte command to her to go right back to sleep.
by the end of the episode the "amezing" building of a crescendo. where she grew more and more angry, she yelled, she threw things, she asserted she was the master of her own destiny, and all this in the board room of his newly acquired company. the angrier she got, the happier he looked, even offering to help her pick up and chuck the printer. he looked the happiest when she refused to give in to his threat and said she was not coming home with him, he could go ahead and do what he liked. in fact, he'd looked somewhat crestfallen when he misunderstood and thought she had taken his offer.
arnav singh raizada has worked a very asr plan. yell on, mrs raizada, in fact, now stomp out, while he holds the door open for m'lady.

just when you thought the climax had been reached, crash bang, another slap. how dare you call the lady "item", she is my wife.

but who can blame the hapless soul for not getting that? who passes indecent proposals to their own wife via staff? who razes their wife's family home to the ground? who cuts off the electricity and water in their wife's home where three elderly people live?

why, the man with a plan, of course. over whose hand her fingers curl without thinking. it's such a habit. 

i am not imagining things, there is music playing beyond the silence, just where the pot of water waits.

yeh shaam mastani, madhosh kiye jaay, mujhe dor koi khinche teri ore liye jaaye. ta ra ra ra ra lala la la lahmm hmm hm hmm hmhmmm




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