the break of day : one shot

the night closed in around the white mercedes-benz suv as it shot through the empty after hours roads. there was a slight drizzle building up to something more falling lightly onto the asphalt, the large old trees, and the pretty landscaped circles of new delhi. dark windows sat behind high walls and rolling lawns, the rich part of town.

he drove without seeing a thing, eyes fixed straight ahead, hands gripping the leather of the steering wheel, knuckles white, his jaw was set, a complete stillness in his frame, the darkness outside seemed pale in comparison to the lack of light in his irises. opaque, pebble like, inert, inaccessible. his foot pressed down on the accelerator as though glued to it. he was leaving behind the bungalows and avenues, heading toward what who knew. he didn't seem to care, he looked neither left nor right, just followed the path where it led him, turning whichever way it went, tyres screeching against the slippery surface, headlights throwing two harsh pools of light in front. blue black road, a ribbon stretching on, and a car gleaming white against the rain drops, speeding.

the thoughts had come he had no idea when, but as usual, suddenly they had him enveloped. choking. gagging his insides, he couldn't breathe, he needed to get away.

he's running down a corridor, a terrible feeling growing. he's bounding up old marble laid steps two at a time, over the inlay work on each step, banisters with cast iron curlicues on either side topped by a smooth gleaming railing in dark mahogany, how many times he's slid down them, playing with his friends, getting away from someone out to catch him at a prank... but tonight there was no time. he had to get there, get there before something terrible happened. his heart had a premonition too heavy for his 14 years, his head whirled with a smell of danger, he ran faster, almost tripping on the edge of a slightly chipped step.

the speedometer swung to 90, the silence of late night streets shattered as the tyres hit a pothole submerged in water, it had been raining intermittently the whole day. a dull sort of rain that refused to drain the clouds and clear the skies, burdening the air with a clammy humidity, mid july heat trapped in its pores and threatening to return full swelter the moment the rain drops eased.

maa.

a scream pierced the world. a boy knew it was over. everything. she was gone. that was it. a part of him writhed in agony, it wanted to scream, but he couldn't. everything had gone flat somehow, closed. a gate within had slammed shut, inside it the scream, the tears, the pain, the mindless anguish, the fear, the terror, the whimpers that don't stop, the sobs that break out unbidden, the burning feeling behind the eyes, the heaving wracked breaths, the sorrow that lingers in the soul, the keening, and also the laughter of a young boy, his playfulness, his gentle bit, his loving bit, his tenderness, his right to be just that, a boy loved to distraction by his beautiful mother. all shut out. everything gone.

arnav malik had to keep quiet, had to be strong, ruthless almost, and he chose to be arnav singh raizada.

he could feel his breath getting shallow, his head begin to spin. were those beads of sweat on his face? his skin felt fragile. too many thoughts. too much pain, and a question that put cold fear in his heart. at the thought of it his foot pressed down harder, the car bolted and almost spun out of control.

but a part of him knew what was coming and deftly brought it back on to the road; he hit the brakes. the car came to a stop, and a silence descended, only the sound of his long fractured breath in the night, and an underlying whisper of rain.

that fear had come again.

he opened the door and got out swiftly, he needed fresh air. he needed to feel free, he needed to feel like himself, but the fear stalked him, asphyxiating, demanding to be heeded. he had to get away from it, had to stop it, he inhaled slowly then he did what he hadn't done in years.

he screamed into the darkness.

out to the skies, the stars, the trees, whoever would listen. maa.

he sank down onto the bare wet road, looking up, pleading... pleading for what?

the minutes ticked by. barren, desert minutes scorched by a merciless rage. 

at last he felt the drizzle on his skin... he frowned, what was the time? he had to get home. he got up as he had done so many times before, at every instant that life tripped him up, and made his way to his car. in its cabin he was safe, a feeling of comfort here. quiet, giving, as if the machine knew the man's heart.

when he reached shantivan, it was almost midnight, he let himself in quietly and walked down the long hallway and swiftly went up the stairs to his bedroom. a night light was on at the far end of the room, a little adjustment made for khushi, she couldn't sleep in complete darkness. he could see her silhouette on her side of the bed. for no reason, the word "pala" came to his head and a smile almost came to his lips. a tenderness entered his gaze, funny girl, he thought, so innocent and untouched by this world in so many ways.

but he had no place for this innocence tonight, he was too beaten by the world, too fragile, he couldn't take this burden to her, not tonight.

he made his way to the poolside french window, gently opening it so as not to make any noise, feeling the tiny shards of rain that the wind blew in on his face. the curtain billowed, he held it away and stepped out, letting the door slide shut. his eyes fell on the side of the pool and he remembered another night.

a beautiful bride stood outside, alone, helpless. his bride. he had left her alone, made her helpless. he had pushed her out of the room into the cold night. he had made her sleep on the hard flagstone floor while he slept in his bed inside. he was pushing khushi out of the room, shutting the door, leaving her alone out there in the open... how could he?!!

pain made him wince, he felt a sob rise, he sat down on the floor and felt the stone with his bare palms. how could he? and the sobs came. silently, inexorably. his body shook as they tore through him. how could he? the girl who was his love, his very life, who made jalebis when she was angry, but never forgot to make his sugar free batch even then, the girl who forgave so easily, who spoke to stars, who was miss taekwondo in bed and how he loved her moves, the girl who opened her heart with such completeness and gave everyone joy, the girl who was his sweet paagal...

his train of thought was interrupted. what was that? he felt a touch on his left shoulder. he looked up quickly, who was that?

she stood there looking down at him, sleep still clinging to her eyes, "arnav ji?"

she'd never seen him like this. she was terribly worried at what she saw in his eyes. she sat before him and held his face in her gentle palms. she could feel the sobs running through him. "kya hua?" she asked with her habitual directness, her innocence.

(what's the matter?)

he sat looking into her dark, clear eyes, and the fear that wouldn't leave found expression, "khushi, i'm not like my dad, am i?"

khushi stared back, nonplussed. what had brought this on? she had never heard him say this. he never spoke of his father, in fact.

he saw the puzzled look in her eyes and knew he had never shared these thoughts with her or anyone. they bothered him, so he kept them away... but he had loved his father too. growing up, his indulgent father's only son, he'd had a lot of fun with the man he thought was good and kind, who was the "head" of the family, a man he could trust. his father had a nasty temper, but when he was in a good mood there was really no one as wonderful as him.

that night as he ran knowing he would be too late, he'd lost not only his precious mother, but also a man he loved, and every illusion he'd ever had about him. that breaking of trust, that erasing of father was also a pain locked behind the door that slammed shut.

just that once in a while it visited him, in the form of this fear.

was he like his cheating, profligate, untrustworthy father? did his father live in his gussa? in his self, somewhere? was he capable of doing what his father did, after all he'd done that to khushi... and that marriage too. he was perhaps just like his...

khushi began to understand what he was trying to say. and felt the terrifying pain of the man she loved no matter what. she drew him close into her arms and kissed him gently on one cheek. then on the other. then she drew his head down to her breast and stroked him with all the love she felt for him.

"aap sirf mere arnav ji hain, arnav singh raizada."

(you are only my arnav ji, arnav singh raizada.)

she knew hearing his name, the identity that he'd created and worked relentlessly to become gave him strength, it soothed him, she wanted him to feel its truth, its innate courage. his innate courage. himmat dikhai maine, he'd told her when speaking of that night and the days that followed. nothing he'd ever done had made her doubt that.

they sat there, the two of them, in the light drizzle.

when she felt his shoulders relax, his breath ease, she pulled him up and led him to their room. he lay down next to her, holding her close, her back to him she lay, his body curved to fit the lines of hers. he buried his face in her neck, enjoying the touch of her silken hair, his arm stretched across her belly, his fingers were tucked under her waist. his worst fears would always perhaps stay in some corner of his being, but life had sent him a crazy girl to open that locked door and feel all his feelings again, there was no need to be afraid, she was always there. he breathed in deeply.

"will you let me sleep in your pala?" he teased as he nibbled her ear, kissed her shoulder blades lightly, and hugged her a little tighter.

she smiled slightly at his tone. the worst was over she knew. tomorrow let it be a better day, please devi maiyya.

stories of asr and kkg index

fanfiction index

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

episode rambles

 

 

 

 

episode 78 veil of truth

as she lifts the chunari, he pauses in his stride and turns to look at her. hey hey... and another moment stolen from time. from hard rational reality.

"sometimes when i look at you, i feel i'm gazing at a distant star. it's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago. maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything."

~~~ haruki murakami, south of the border, west of the sun ~~~

he could never not turn and look at her, and she could never say no to that look of his, no matter what their lips said later. her little ploy to get him to agree to marry la had not gone down well with him. he was shocked at la's words. he didn't believe in marriage, certainly not in these strange assertions from a girl that did even stranger things to his mind and more.

  

"humari amma toh yehi kehti hai, ki jisse rishte ki taar judi... agar usske haath aapke sar pe chunri gir jaaye... toh uss jodi ko shaadi ke bandhan mein bandhne se koi nahi roke sakta."

my mother says that the one with whom the thread of tie is joined, if a veil falls upon you from his hand, then no one can stop that thread from becoming the tie of marriage (a very literal translation, nowhere near as pretty or colourful as the original).

he of course, did what he would do, took the chunari, bright, pink, beckoning, full of its desire of love and threw it away unceremoniously. heartless man, uff. but bending every rule of physics, the determined dupatta - you know how dupattas have a certain will and mind of their own in ipk, instead of flying carpets in this ajeeb tale it's them flying and flirting dupattas - flew and landed on the head of its choice. the veil had something to say to two people completely unprepared for this revelation.

yet neither could turn away, neither could not long, neither could say "phooey, don't mean nothing."

i am looped in the loops of her hair.

o love is the crooked thing,

there is nobody wise enough

to find out all that is in it,

~~~ w b yeats, penny brown ~~~

longing in his eyes... hey hey heyheyhey. you can't measure longing i suppose, if only there were a unit for that moment when you feel your stomach churn, empty out, and do a somersault. well, watching him watching her, had me in that state again and again. what all went through his eyes? and how much of it. is that how barun sobti looks at tinker tailor fruit vendor (especially, mango man) and it's just the normal look in eyes, blessed with an intensity that's purely incidental, means nothing; or is this acting at a level where everyone forgets it's only an act?

rabba vey...

he looked into her eyes, he was caught in a breathless moment... as was she... she took her chunari off her head, but it was as though the colour of that moment wouldn't leave him... her.

and then he broke the spell with all his might... turned away, and continued on his way. she stood there wondering, dumbfounded... she had a belief. a vishwaas.

did that call him? for he paused again, and turned around... another long moment on the edge of time.

he again made the first move to walk away. but before that many songs, poems, epistles of pining and unknown yearning had been written through silences and the slightest movements of irises, a magical tune, and the lyrics of mellifluous editing.

when lavanya came and found her, she reached for the laughing pink chunari in khushi's hands. and just for a moment as the silken fabric slipped away, it looked as though khushi struggled, not wanting to let go.

a strange moment, isn't it? the monster, the laad gov, the rakshas, the magarmach, the man who left you in a dark alley and drove away, the man who snapped your pearl dori, the man who made fun of your aukat, the man who never missed a chance to be rude to you, the man who kept making innuendos about "tum jaisi ladki", a chunari from his hands covers you and makes a claim, and you are not offended, upset, agitated... just bemused.

then the chunari slipped out of her grasp, the enchanting notes of rabba vey caressing them. were your fingers just a bit reluctant to let go. did you wish that thing your mother said would come true?

 
"bahut badi gadbad ho gayi," if only she knew what had gone topsy turvy, and how much of a gadbad had happened.

every once in a while the director and screenplay writer got together and decided to create a moment in the episode that would be difficult to extricate oneself from. leaving us all in the state of asr when caught in thoughts of khushi. today they placed this three odd minute long scene right at the beginning of episode. it started on a note of what the, an incredulous and fast becoming angry asr listening to la's words. then the chuck of chunari, the beginning of a walk out, when suddenly, the whole world changed. and stopped. and said, come, lose yourself in me. 

two committed actors connected in a way that's more instinct than thought out strategy, and really took me far away to eternity. a place of longing within all of us.

the rest of the episode felt more like a whole lot of tricks and treats looking for an antidote to this spell.

then there were two people who began to care for each other, and share interesting man talk. 

it was normal for khushi and la not to get along, for in many ways they really belonged to different spheres of everything. yet, they were the same in many ways too, both young girls, both out to make something of their lives, and shaadi seeking or not, both hopeless romantics, hoping to meet the man of their dreams. 

inside la there was always the possibility of a conscientious girl: the chamkili whom she so disliked, the moment she saved her from nani's wrath, la acknowledged from her heart, and went straight up to khushi, apologised, made friends. asr is after all not so tsk tsk for liking la. at the same time, without doubt, she was also a girl who understood, "what's in it for me." i respect the writer's instinct regarding la's inner workings. the way to convince her about marriage (if one had to, as khushi for some reason decided she did), was not preaching and lecturing on virtue and stuff. the thing to do was to show her, what she might lose if she didn't insist on the tie. ever pragmatic, la instantly grasped the danger inherent in the live in situation, and went all out to change things to her advantage. shaadi. and whatever it takes to get there. i liked that, stay with the character, don't make her what she's not.

la would ultimately understand things that neither khushi nor asr did. sometimes you don't know the difference between daals, the real name for "round round," and such things, but you are uncannily sharp in other matters. and with one simple act, give what many of us wouldn't ever dream of or even be able to. the man you love to the girl whom you consider a friend. because you can see and you don't look away from truth. there again, a trace of your self preservation, you know this would go nowhere ultimately. but you do indeed wish both these people well. which is why her leaving never felt like a sacrifice. it felt like a person doing what's right. a certain joy in that, just watching it. and a certainty that her life will take her to a good and right place. 

as la and khushi got girl talking, there was a lovely ease in the scene. this point on i felt the story became the tale of two girls for a while, both important in their own ways.

la is irritated, khsuhi is trying to make her feel better. enter... ta ta ra... bayi phrend... "dikhte toh woh bahut hi achhe hain... aur bahut hi raubile kism ke hain... aur kaam? unke ek ishare se saare kaam ho jaate hai, unhe kabhi hath uthane ki zaroorat hi nahin padti..." he looks very good, and he's quite a powerful man, work? oh just a tiny sign from him and everything gets done, doesn't have to lift a finger, he...

must be a senior sort of executive in an important position? counters la, the incorrigible. uh huh. watch out asr, your rival is here. jalebi bai has the dhak dhak for sallu bhai. and you are merely "bhai."

ladki badi hai kamal ki... 

but la is still all antsy. no point resisting, khushi brings on her age old remedy of all ills, the vibrant energy of dance that defies all blues, all doom and gloom. some day, la will remember this precious lesson and use it to woo her dear friend. nani would have real reason to change her opinion of la.

fabulous, out of control dance sequence. why did i get the feeling that khushi needed that dance as much as la today. the sexual tension of those early moments, the play of all sorts of things in her mind, she needed to work it all out too.

of course, i got to be in control headmaster face mr we are not amused raizada appeared (just as song reached "lagta hai murga halal ka" and khushi made all appropriate gestures to establish state of murga). the girls yiked to a stop... what is this fear, ladies, uh huh. the angry one glared, but when khushi got a call that brought worry to her voice, somehow it got reflected in his eyes as well, and the little lines on his brow.

the episode ended on two neatly delivered surprises.

1. khushi and payal had an announced visit from amma babuji thanks to an interfering slithery sort.

2. la proposed to asr. now i will forgive this young lady everything, even switching to khushi style clothes, but not this. "asr, will you marry me?" how dare she steal my line.

try as i might, i couldn't stop thinking about the scene of the veil. all its revelations still murmuring in my head. stop it, got work.

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

samjhi tum to sorry episodes

episode rambles

fanfiction

 

episode 73 juice is good for you

and the games continue. after the mishri manoeuvre of episode 72, today it's the double jeopardy of joooice (aka juice) and jalebi bai (currently the number one ringtone chosen by delhi tycoons).

when the man couldn't get to his office thanks to an suv engine that wouldn't start, and a young woman who couldn't stop grinning, he decided to have his important business meeting at home.

home? but that is where the hate is. aha.

when planning offence, keep eyes and ears sharp. opportunity lurks in hidden corners. no one needs to teach miss kkg that. her brain whizzed around looking for a plan, and in the laad g's room when she noticed his phone lying on the bed and remembered he had dared to throw her out of the car, the "hume gaadi se utara" gussa got going (yes, the dear girl has her share of the angry monsters, he hasn't cornered the market, despite best efforts it would appear, tsk tsk asr). in seconds, the plan was actioned.

the results of course had all rofling. poor man. even i, his devoted elderly fan was giggling and imagining the embarrassment of a haughty looking tycoon who moments before was looking coolly at someone whose phone rang during the meeting, imparting advice in business like tone. then... dhing chak dhing chak ho jalebi bai, ho jalebi bai.

 
that post this, erm interruption, they took his "after that, we're in business," seriously must be having something to do with this man's hotness, looks like we are not the only ones smitten with our thin and edgy tycoonwa.

but, oh to live that down. he was furious. he stormed to the living area. grimly asked, who called him. nani was quick to point out, ms kassyap might have many answers since she has been noticed around his room deep in the night. demand as he might, he doesn't get any real answers. and then, of all people di asks him to take it easy. everyone is having such a laugh, can't blame them. one doesn't get a chance to laugh their heads off at the seriously angry young man they live with, so too much of an opportunity to miss i guess.

mami ji's "yeh chitrahaar kahaan se start hui gawa," referring to the hindi film song based television programme of the seventies and eighties, was a scream.

but my ultimate vote went to the clipped, "it's not funny" from our dear asr. sometimes all you need is to hear the voice to faint.

to give us a break from , director and sanaka deviced a sweet little meeting between akashji and payalji. and suddenly, no rancour, no gussa, no grinding teeth and flaming passion, and hurling insults. instead it's all sweetness and er, hum, woh, ji?, ji! lau. good to know that falling in love will not always necessitate battle and scar.

and on we move to squelch squelch squelch. busy man on the phone, completely misses the wet stuff flooding his shoes, and it's only when he sees his whole family staring that he realises something was amiss. jai prakash, the victorious one throws light on the substance in question.

it's juice.

"mango juice," knows the wise one. but what he has no idea of is how much all at home will enjoy his discomfort. awful reminders of childhood habit from di (how could you), giggles and saucy ones from mami, "joota itna angriyake pehne ki joota ka jooce hi nikal gaya," wore teh shoe so angrily that it took out it's juice. really. la was laughing, and that irritating khushi couldn't control her smirk. how dare she, smirking is his domain, his territory. then finally, et tu nani. really this was too much. 

"very funny," on a huff and he stalks off.

wonderful comic acting as always from sanaya, but today the whole gang was rather good, including the straight faced jai prakash. and the completely loopy in love akash, with able support from a gentle breezy payal.

on the heightened note of "strange" that the week commanded, there was la taking charge of lakshmi to show nani her goatwa love, on advise from her consiligeri mami (anyone remember consigliere from godfather, hmmm a fab tom hagen, mano raizada giving him tough competition). so started the la la land chapter within the khushi-believe-it-or-not game arcade.

there was also the rather cute tete a tete between khushi and la on the hot topic of shaadi. everything doesn't stop at shaadi as la says, but starts there. have to say, loved this chat between two girls from different world's, each convinced in her way about her pov. of course, poor la will not be allowed by the determined miss sanka to hold on to her views for long, tricks that hit home will be used to make the canny la rethink strategy. but this scene had a sassy girl thing to it i liked.

akash walked in confused and and sillified in pyaar, but sauntering into bhai's room reported that the mechanic had found mishri in the tank. there stood bhai, mishri in hand, looking at his wet shoes and the mango juice on the table, wondering how said juice got into shoe, when this info sparked his dimaag ki batti into full action. he remembered sighting madam here there everywhere and a certain expression on her face. then her voice, gleefully informing mami that it's "mango juice, mami, aap lenge," as he walked away from the mirth at his expense table.

the dots connect.

the man was ignited. "khushi kumari gupta..." through clenched teeth, (i died), no one else could have thought of such small minded things, wait till i catch you, this time i won't let you forget your aukat lesson. harumppph.

74 skidding at us, all jazzed up with thief of lucknow action. watch out.

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

the ajeeb game of love episodes

episode rambles 

fanfiction

episode 92 deep fried love

he's in a haze. he can't focus. he walks up to the kitchen, "khushi."

she swivels around, hassled at the sight of him, her project is to control dhakdhak, that thing triggered by "acidity" or whatever, and this requires that she avoid looking at him, being with him, being anywhere near him, talking to him, the works.

as episode 92 opened, did you hear the sound of a drill boring or was it a mixer/blender that was layered with the music, as he started to feel the surges of blackout? hitchcock apparently had used a watermelon being stabbed with a knife to create the sound effects of the famous and heart stopping shower scene in psycho. here that sound of a machine relentless, humming with a metallic edge, throbbing, out of place. 

intruding on shots of him beginning to come apart, it effected a funny kind of terror, of extreme worry. the first few times i'd seen this scene, all i could do was look at him and wonder what the, but this time that sound reached me, giving depth and texture to the whole thing, a spike in a scene quite flat in terms of colour. barun was understated and convincing, camera controlled the desire to go ott. that sound was enough to create panic.

khushi said, "aap aap yahan kyun aaye hai... rukiye... humne aapse kaha tha na, hum aap se door rehna chahte hain. aap jaaiye yahan se," what are you doing here... stop...i'd told you hadn't i, i want to stay away from you? go away from here.

ah, the temerity... to order the man out of his own kitchen.

"khushi, mujhe wo..." but she cuts in...

"aap kisi ki baat sunte bhi ho ya nahin..." do you ever you listen to anyone? traces of her nuttiness beginning to enter frame. "hum kya kah rahein hai aap se... naahi hum aap se baat karna chahte hain... naahi hum aapka shakal dekhna chahte hain" what am i telling you... don't wanna talk to you... don't wanna see your face.

in her bid to solve the acidity issue, she's decided not to look for the cause, but the remedy. some part of khushi no doubt knew that isolating the cause would be far worse than the dhakdhak. might endanger life itself. for certain truths are rarely prepared for in the shelter of our monitored upbringing, where a notion of what's good and palatable is firmly fixed in the mind before a girl reaches any age of independent thought.

and certainly, an arrogant, devil may care, self made, destiny and devi maiyaa challenging man who's drop dead gorgeous is not not not desirable or palatable for a "good," "decent," "middle class" girl.

so she tells him to disappear. not to rustle her veneer of knowledge and calm regarding the opposite gender.

he disappears.

she bends to pick up the duster and sees him...

and suddenly, that calm is set aside and khushi goes right out of her comfort zone. when the man who causes your breath to race, lies helpless on the floor, can you be expected to keep your guard up?

  

and one of the most intimate episodes comes into play. have i ever seen them so close to each other in every possible way? especially her?

the panic she flew into when she saw him lying there. the desperate note in her call of "arnav ji... arnav ji," the pacing, the jerky motion.

the trying to do something... anything... to bring him back, the phonecalls everywhere, the rushing to get some water when he managed to  say "paani paani,"... and then sprinkling, then dousing him with it only to see his eyes open. so much water, that when he came to he had to say "stop it," in that very asr way, and the viewer had to die.

but khushi couldn't care less about the viewer, all she was focused on was him. told us didn't she, she didn't want him near her, didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to see his face.

her hands just reached out to him, wanting to grasp solidity, shaken as she was by the sight of this strong man who strode the moment, lying there on the ground, struggling to get back on his feet, but failing, passing out.

when he asked for a jalebi, first she was confused. he had diabetes, so how...? but his insistence had her rushing to get her favourite sweet for him, and as he lay dazed, without thought of demurring, she held it to his lips.

     

did rabba vey start playing here? i didn't notice, but i felt it inside me. feeding someone is perhaps one of the most intimate and tender things one can do. and there's an edge of sexuality in it when a man and a woman are involved in this act. the sheer physicality of it gives one a stir. perhaps that adage about the way to a man's heart being through his stomach is not just about the path to his love but also to his desire. in the most intense relationships love and desire lose boundaries and entangle with each other.

the two before me were losing boundaries right now. there was a pretext, but even with that, would khushi have gotten quite so close, quite as urgent had it been someone else? of course, she would have been most worried, and done whatever she could. yet there was a sense of "you matter to me, oh i can't bear not to see your face or hear your voice" in her actions.

jalebi bai fed jalebi to her laad governor. her beloved mithai, crisp on the outside, wild orangy swirls, sweet and flowing inside. a little like her almost, especially that crazy swirliness of it. felt almost as though asr was caressing khushi with his lips as he groggily lingered on the bite and took one finally. khushi never lost her concentration on him. are you ok are you ok tell me you are ok echoed all around.

he came to. tried to stand up, started to flail, and again without hesitation, her arms came up on either side of him, as she formed a barrier with her body, a support for him. you won't fall as long as i am there. she can save him in the kitchen, she can save him from a kidnap.

of course, the moment he recovered, he had to be him. an almost funny "hato" broke the spell. maybe it was too beautiful for him too, strangely exciting, to see her inches from him, right up against him, arms open wide, come i will take care of you, i am here, you are safe. lover, protector, all of it in in that one stance of hers. something exciting about this beautiful man who the world leans on, being cradled and kept standing by the slip of a girl.

guess he really had to walk away from that. she kept worrying about him, he assured her there was nothing to fear, just a sugar drop. don't tell di. in earlier discussions i have read many people's opinions that diabetics apparently do not pass out if they don't take medicine for a day. so, ok, maybe medically off the mark. but so on the dot in many other ways.

though khushi never says it in so many words, but her involvement with him is riveting here. and in the next scene, her beguiling attraction. she adores looking at the man, but has no idea why. this episode really explored khushi's response, the undeniable element of her relationship with asr.

khushi fretted about her bad behaviour. and the time before he had come to her, now she walked into the lion's den to apologise. for the occasion, she wore make up. besan.

how fabulously writers linked a casually introduced pakoda way back in the story, i think on the day khushi undertook the training of la, to some of the most sexy and expressive scenes of the tale. a simple, deep fried in oil, humble concoction of gram flower, onions, chillies, coriander powder, a little soda if you like... deep fried things are really good for you.

sound of zip, an overnighter is closed, man in brown black waist coat on the phone. isn't it hot suddenly. that waistcoat and that sleekness.

"hum log by road aa rahe hain... mai aur lavanya," we're coming by road, lavnanya and i. he's discussing the trip with someone. could this be aman who entered our lives next episode?

knock knock.

heart stopping handsome visage.

she stands there and again, "aap theek toh hain na?" you're ok, aren't you? third time.

he nods, "i'm fine."

at that, because of sheer relief perhaps, her sanka leaps out, "hum bhi na, galat samay par galat baat karte hain... bahut badi paglahet hain... hume maaf kar dijiye..." i say all the wrong things at the wrong time... i am such a nut case... forgive me... nonstop talk starts.

and she streaks her cheek with besan. he's aghast.

"wo... hume pata nahin tha..." oh i didn't know...

she is so absorbed in her guilt, his "khushi, tumhare gaal par" khushi, something on your cheek...  gets no attention. some more batter is slathered on...

"you won't forgive me... whatever i did wasn't on purpose, it was because of dhakdhak and acidity..." she is unstoppable.

"khushi... tum..." he begins, with a sweet little break in the stern features... 

then a smile...  just as he had on the night di spoke of saansey ruk jaaygi. and later on the day of "ajeeb", when khushi said she had to pour mango juice in his shoe because she couldn't find orange juice. 

   
then he starts to laugh. delighted happy carefree.

    
she's entranced.

    
and maybe this is when she falls for him once more. or for a moment realises dhakdhak wasn't acidity.

"chhotey, tum... tum has rahe ho?" i can't believe you are laughing like this... kitne saalo ke baad humney tumhari yeh hansi suni hai.. i hear your laughter after years. di is surprised and overwhelmed to see her perennially grim brother laughing.

of course, he has to return to his shell, but before that he has to tell di what it is that has him in splits. a suave gesture with the hand. there. that besan covered innocent face. how cute and sexy was this whole thing, very man woman, with a glint of a naughty boy in it.

"haste hue aap bilkul bhi laad governor nahin lagte," when you laugh you don't look like laad gov at all. a girl smiles to herself thinking about a handsome man that makes her feel different. a quiet intimate moment.

   
an episode of intimacy. just the day before, he had rushed to her with a container of food wanting to let her open her fast, feel the touch of nourishment, energy. today she gave him that, sugar to make him feel up and alive. food, such a basic instinct. tied to our desire, to survival, to joy, to emotion, to love. when a man marries a woman in bengal, he promises to take care of that which covers her body and which nourishes it... bhat kapod... rice, cloth. and then there's laughter, the spontaneous opening of the heart, of happiness. eat with me, laugh with me, make me return to myself, eat laugh love.

at last, we are set for the ride to nainital.

"baye ka chakaar, dayen ka jhatka, phir aram se jalebi wala chakka... hai khul gaya" a little swing to the left, and a swing to the right, then a gentle swirl of jalebi... and the boot is open.

pakodas in place, a secret plan to have asr and la in a clinch in the middle of nowhere progressing well. and the dupatta does its trick again. did anyone notice how determined it was to get khushi into the boot?

la has allergy. can't go to nainital. l.o.g. naya phassun hai kya? asks the incorrigible mami ji. nahi mami ji, gadbad ho gayi.

again gadbad, again jalebi, and with, "i don't care about the damn pimple!" again gussa. if i read the signs accurately, all is well and acidity will be incurable... hamesha.


ooops, just noticed i made a mistake, no, he didn't ask for water, he was almost unconscious, she muttered "paani paani," and went to get some frantically. also apologies for not mentioning the parallel love story, blossoming in "bhaji gali," the vegetable market. it was very sweet. and a perfect contrast to the drama love that has all my attention when i watch.



ps: that besan on face thing most likely inspired by the story of how raj kapoor met nargis the first time at her mother jaddan bai's home. she opened the door and apparently while talking, pushed her hair back leaving a streak of besan on her face, she'd been cooking. mr kapoor was reportedly enchanted. years later in the 1973 film bobby, when raj meets bobby for the first time, she is baking and while talking to raj, pushes her hair back land there's flour on her face that she is quite unaware of. love of course happens... 

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

nainital episodes

episode rambles

fanfiction

ncofl... never on a new year: chapter 3

the jalebis were large with so many swirls in them, they were orange and hot and sticky. even though the tears blurred her vision, khushi was determined to count the number of spirals on the one right on top. a whole heap of jalebis sat before her. she could feel their sweet succulence, their crumbly crust she knew would crack under the most gentle pressure from her teeth and out would flow, no pop, the delicious… khushi swallowed… warm, perfectly blended syrup.

two thread. do taar.

babu ji had taught her, the sugar had to melt and dissolve thoroughly and you had to simmer the syrup till the consistency came to that point when two threads, not just one, would form as she pulled her forefinger and thumb away from each other, a drop of warm syrup between them. she knew now at which stage the syrup would have thickened enough but she always tested to make sure… how it resisted the separation of the finger and thumb, trying to hold on, not let them go asunder, forming little strings, like it would tied them up together and hold them like that forever.

hamesha.

khushi’s tears shimmered. why was she forever so far away from the jalebis? and why was the white pigeon sitting on the window sill always angry, his eyes so brilliantly red? like the big ring on her finger and that volacano… that jwalamukhi. jwala… where had she seen a volcano? in bali? or was it next to the pool where arnav ji had… had…

her tears shimmered, the jalebis were an orange cloud.

she licked her parched lips and leaned forward trying to reach them. the one nearest to her, by the corner. she craned her neck and almost fell forward trying to get to it. this was silly, why wasn’t she using her hands to get one? she went to move her arm, but she couldn’t.

her hands were tied behind her back.

khushi blinked.

her legs were tied too.

two threads. no no, two ropes… khushi wriggled. the white kabooter cocked its head and looked at her intently. khushi hissed at it, don’t think i am helpless, she thought loudly in her head hoping the bird could hear her. she was going to get out of all those shackles and escape… she would get to her jalebi.

she heard the long wail of the siren or what was it? before she could figure it out, the jalebis began to move… it was a train, khushi realised, and it was pulling away from platform number thirty one of new delhi railway station, with her jalebis… going to lucknow.

desperate now, she pulled hard at the ropes trying to break free, but they held on.

“hey devi maiyya,” she muttered under her breath and began running, the ropes trailing behind, not letting go. khsuhi looked at them as they went around her body now… they were brown and strong and they were actually arms.
huh?!

the arms tightened. a blast of air, heated, scorched her right cheek.

it was the porter… he was wearing the red uniform. and he was smiling nastily, trying hold her… not let her escape. and why was the porter’s face just like arnav ji’s?
khushi screamed and lunged forward and banged into a very hard object.
***

“my akas bitwa,” manorama raizada’s voice dripped honey, akash new his mother was upset, “you ares isso luckys that you meetings the sweets sweets daaters in law oph mine, i hopes you enjaayings the hayppy new years party!”

(my son akash, you are so lucky to have met the sweet daughter in law of mine, i hope you are enjoying the new year party!)

“yes, ma.. i..” akash said foggily, the music was loud, he could barely hear his mother, yet his ear had picked the umbrage in her tone. he held payal’s hand more firmly.

payal looked up at him, frowning, wondering why akash was suddenly drawing away from her even while gripping her hand so tightly. they had been sitting together on a sofa in a corner of the darkened room, furniture had been pushed back and nearer the walls to make room for a dance floor in the centre, the floor was crowded; lavanya had invited almost all of delhi, akash had quipped earlier with a little smile.

“is there anyone in the city you don’t know?” he had teased lavanya.

“shut up, darling!” she’d laughed and struck a pose, “watch out, payal, this man is a favourite of all the girls in the room…”

payal smiled remembering that. she grasped his hand and laid her head on his shoulder.

“habh a bhery goods entriyaa into the new years, my bitwa, your pita ji and your ones and onlys mothers bhill miss yous… but bhe sall bhatching teebhee, hello hi new years bye bye old parentswa!” manorama laughed, a brittle shattered note in her laughter. the hurt was out.

(have a very good entry into the new year, my son, your father and your one and only mother will miss you… but we shall watch tv, hello hi new year bye bye old parents!)

“ma!” akash replied sounding chastened, “okay, okay… payal and i will come home before twelve… we’ll bring in the new year with all of you, anyway bhai also is not in a very bright mood and di too…”

“kauno jaroorat naahin, bitwa!” it was his father, he could hear muffled mutterings of protest from his mother in the background, “payal bitiya and you enjoy, we are fine! manorama, kaahey barbaray rahi ho, you are looking so beautiful in that new saree…”

(there’s no need for that, son! payal and you enjoy, we are fine! manorama, why are you muttering away, you are looking so beautiful in that new saree…)

akash realised his father had disconnected. payal was now sitting a little away gazing at him clearly perplexed.

“akash… really, maybe we should go home… it’s almost ten o’clock… and khushi is alone too, nani ji had said to send her back with mohan ji but, i know her, she loves new year and she’s so sad now… where is she?…” there was a little tremor in payal’s voice.

akash reached out and pulled her into his arms, “shhh… don’t worry, khushi will be fine, and bhai… and di…”
“and you, akash? will you be fine? sasu ma…” payal murmured.

“come,” akash said crisply, suddenly getting up and pulling her along, “let’s dance.”
***

the clamour of heart beats was deafening, khushi stared up into furious brown eyes.

“what the hell are you doing, khushi?” asr rasped out.

khushi felt the wool of his waistcoat under her finger tips. arnav ji’s arms were around her, his fingers were digging into her waist on either side. what was he doing in a suit? where was the train? her mind was still woolly, where had the pigeon gone? a gnawing emptiness nagged at her suddenly.

“ja-lebi?” she said looking lost.

“what! stop talking nonsense dammit! do you even know how worried i was! why did you leave bua ji’s house without telling her where you were going… where have you been the whole day? why aren’t you answering your phone dammit! why are you running around alone out here! khushi, khushii!” the words came rushing and raging at her. asr’s grip on her waist was so tight she could hardly breathe. she stared at him confounded. her head was spinning, why was it all getting darker…

“answer me!” he shouted.

“hmmm?!” khushi mumbled, her hand went to her forehead. she swayed slightly.

“khushi?” asr peered at her frowning. what was the matter with the girl? “khushi…” without his knowing his voice had dropped, grown gentle… his eyes were filling with concern.

khushi gave a dazed stare and tried to say something. was it “kabooter?” asr felt an uncanny sensation, a warmth around his ears… khushi…

“shh!.. shh… don’t talk… have you eaten anything yet?” he whispered looking into hazel eyes, trying to read an answer in the darkness of the alcove. the music was loud, the hum of conversation, laughter and a particularly loud guffaw from time to time filled the air.
khushi let her arms slide around him and started to let go.

“sh**!” an expletive shot past her ear. his hands stroked her back, then he was walking her toward the couch where she must have been sitting. he made her sit down, then lie back, lifting her legs onto the plush cushion.

“stay here, okay!” he said quietly. a lock of hair fell across her forehead, he felt a funny tug inside, he lifted his hand and let his fingers run lightly over her forehead, brushing the lock away.

he looked at her lying there for an instant before turning and striding swiftly out.

***

“asr! asr! where are you going? didn’t you find khushi?” lavanya called out as she spotted him briskly walking through the the crowded room toward the entrance to her apartment.

“i found her, lavanya… don’t worry… won’t mind a sandwich though… think i need to eat something. i’ll be right back,” he said and and left before la could say anything.

he came back in soon and went toward the kitchen.

“here, asr! ye lo! cheese sandwich… get you a drink?” lavanya stopped him on the way.

(here asr! take this! cheese sandwich… get you a drink?)
“i’m fine, lavanya… and thanks!” he gave her a tight smile and strolled off toward the alcove.

jean pierre was sitting by the side, cooling off with a beer after a hectic round of dancing with kareena, he patted the seat next to his and grinned up at la, “la, come seet wiz me for a while… ahhnav will be 'ow do you say… uccha hai!”

lavanya took the offer and sat down, then said with a wink, “stop pretending you don’t know how to say ‘accha hai’ just to make me feel better, jp… i am worried, asr never goes to new year eve parties… never! i hope he’s okay.”

jean pierre smiled wryly and sipped his beer, and wondered if la was beginning to get over ahhnav.
***

“open your eyes, khushi!” asr sat on the couch bent over her.

khushi frowned a little. what was that?

“ankhe kholo, i said!” he sounded stern.

(open your eyes, i said!)

what was that nudging at her lips though? it felt sticky. the tip of a tongue came out cautiously and touched the sticky thing.

next moment, a pair of eyes opened wide and a girl lying prone was sitting up very fast, arms and legs flailing, red pompoms swaying wildly.

“jalebi!!!” she shrieked.

arnav felt relief and a need to laugh loudly struggle violently within him. he glared at her and said, “go on… eat!”

khushi realised arnav ji was sitting holding the jalebi to her lips… he had been trying to feed her. her toes curled at the thought and a warmth spread along her upped arms, she thought she might stop breathing.

she opened her mouth and let her teeth touch the crisp surface, it cracked and broke even before she had really bitten into it… sweet delicious syrup poured onto her lips… khushi sighed, her eyes closing.

“when did you last eat?” asr asked watching her closely.
khushi remembered the pooris lying in front of her heaped and hot that afternoon, she remembered she had left home without having breakfast… her mind wandered over the day… what had she eaten… when?

“uh… urghfd!” she gurgled and took another large bite of jalebi, munching quickly… she could feel the sweetness perk her up, she wanted to eat more… and she liked the way he held the jalebi near her lips and made her bite every time her mouth was empty. she licked her lips and took another bite.

“so you haven’t eaten anything today!” he said in a matter of fact tone.

“okay, no problem, now finish these,” he picked up a box of jalebis that was lying on a table behind her and placed it on her lap.

“kya?!!” khushi squealed… “aap ko yeh kahan se mila… a whole box of jalebi… from…. bengali market…? arnav ji?”

(what?!!! where did you get this from, a whole box of jalebi… from.. bengali market…? arnav ji?)

he would never know at which precise moment his heart did a deliberate and slow yet incredibly fast somersault; at “bengali market”… or at “arnav ji”… but he knew he had to…

asr groaned and dragged khushi into his arms. he needed to feel her heart resting upon his chest, he had to let her hair tumble all over his neck, he had to hold her, he had to tell her,”i missed you, khushi…” he buried his face in her ridiculously soft hair and rubbed his face against her…

khushi strained and pressed close to his body, her arms went up and around his neck, an exultant streak of joy shot through her… arnav ji was with her, right here. he was not angry… he was not upset…. he had fed her jalebi. was he going mad?

khushi smiled and frowned at the same time. then she was giggling, thinking of how weird she must have looked doing that.

he started kissing her just about then. his lips were hard and demanding and as she moaned arching against him, they grew soft, searching, playful, she closed her eyes and kissed him back… she let her tongue trace the contour of his lips… she bit lightly the slight cleft on his chin… his stubble grazed her lips, the tip of her nose, she turned her face from side to side, enjoying that prickly sensation.

“pagal!” he muttered and tried to sit up. she pulled him back and asked, “aapne mere liye jalebi kharida?”

(mad!) (did you buy jalebis for me?)

“no, ” he said calmly, “i bought them for me!”

“arnav ji! stop lying!” khushi nipped his ear lobe sharply.

“ow!” asr exclaimed.

suddenly khushi pushed him and sat up once more,  “arnav ji! hey devi maiyya, hum sach much pagal hain… aapne kuch khaya? dawai li? tell me!”

(arnav ji! oh mother goddess, i am really mad… have you eaten anything? taken your medicine? tell me!)

he lay there smiling up at her, brown eyes glinting, even in the darkness she could feel their brownness.

“relax!” he said, stretching out and getting her right back into his arms, “i’ll eat my sandwich… in a minute.”

and then he was kissing her again.

khushi remembered arms refusing to let her go, brown strong arms. she leapt up once more.

before he could react, she jumped over him, got the sandwich lying on a plate on the table and thrust it against his lips.

“now you’ll eat and i’ll talk!” she said sticking her chin out.

“really?” a smile completely crooked came on in a flash. khushi almost dropped the sandwich and clutched her heart.

“that’s unusual… you do both… usually!” he said, a dark arched eyebrow went up emphasising the “usually.” then he held her hand and took a bite of the sandwich. he saw her smile slightly… when khushi hadn’t answered her phone, he’d called mohan, he didn’t want to worry nani or di… bua ji was looking frazzled already. mohan had told him khushi had gone to the farmhouse but she was at lavanya’s at the moment. he’d been driving past bengali market on his way to lavanya’s when something had made him stop and pick up a box of jalebis for khushi.

box of jalebis. where was it, he wondered, and reached out, searching. the box lay open on one side, its contents had spilled out onto the sofa… he moved his hand and found his shirt front was sticky, little bits of crushed jalebi were stuck here and there.

a memory came… a beginning. that first day he’d met her at sheesh mahal. his black silk shirt had been ruined but all he recalled now was hazel. hazel eyes… large, tearful, clear and limpid.

his hand roamed over the front of her purple kurta, it was sticky too.

asr took another bite, he remembered how he hadn’t been able to forget this girl ever after that.

when he’d reached lavanya’s apartment, he’d gone through the throng of people looking for her, salman had seen him and said, khushi was at the back in the alcove. he’d hurried there and as he’d walked in khushi had come running with eyes closed and banged straight into him.

she was looking at him rapt as she fed him. his eyes took in her finely drawn eyebrows, her twinkling hazel irises, her sharp, straight and long nose, the tender curve of her cheeks, the undulating lines of her lips, the arc of her ear lobe. he breathed in deeply. was happiness really possible in this uncaring harsh world, he thought.
last day of the year. tomorrow would have been maa’s birthday. his lips tightened.

he let his eyes rest on khushi’s hands, her fingers were long and graceful, he noticed how delicately they moved, her nails were never long, just covering the tips of her fingers and filed to a neat oval. the surface of her nails shone.

“sorry, khushi,” he said in a quiet voice, looking straight into her eyes. “i shouldn’t have shouted…” he caught hold of her hand and kissed the finger tips.

khushi felt a rush of tears at the back of her throat, she hoped arnav ji was all right. that he wouldn’t feel too terrible the next day.
***

the dance floor was really crowded now, it was past eleven and people who were party hopping were coming in, ready to bring in the new year soon. almost all the lights were off. dancers swayed and jostled, once in a way someone screamed or laughed loudly.

“ne me quitte pas…” don’t leave me… don’t quit on me.. sting’s voice rose and fell and caressed the senses. a drugged languor came over khushi as words she couldn’t understand at all fell all around and went over her and two beautiful arms held her, pulling her closer and closer still.

asr took her right hand, pulled it up and put it on the side of his neck, his skin felt taut and cool, she let her fingers slide further up and played with the springy hair at the back of his head. her other arm slid up his chest and her hand rested on his shoulder. they moved against each other, slowly, swaying to the music. even her heart beat seemed to have slowed and merged with the heart beat of the chest pressed against hers.
his hands went down to her hips, drifted lower and drew her closer once more. without quite realising how, the lines of their body adjusted and aligned even as they danced, soon their cheeks were pressed together against one another’s, and their arms, their bellies, their thighs… and they moved in unison… just the two of them, there was no one else really in that room… in the world… on this last evening of the year.

he turned his face and kissed her hungrily for a timeless moment then went back to dancing, his cheek pressed against hers. khushi leaned into him and moved to the rhythm…
ne me quitte pas… je t’inventerai… des mots insensés… que tu comprendras… don’t leave me… i will invent for you… senseless words… which you will understand.

supriya.arshi made this lovely banner when she realised frangipanis

were becoming part of not cut out for love.

………….

i hope you enjoyed the chapter. look forward to your thoughts.

index
 

chapter 4

stories of asr kkg index

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

episode rambles

fanfiction