episode 67 a survivor's guide

a survivor's guide to how to handle people you hate.

or an analysis of episode 67

1. make sure, no matter what, you crash land into their lives at least once a day. a meeting a day will make the hatred, also known as nafrat, stay. you can choose to do this anywhere you wish. ramps have proven to be extremely useful, especially if tripping gorgeously is a major part of plan. you can find them on the streets, in their office, at sundry sacred trees, dargahs, mandirs, best of all, of course, at their home. oh nothing quite like that. home is where the hate is.

2. dream of them on a regular basis. in such dreams, it is best to see yourself in the role of hero, them as villain. for example, you are the white wigged, morally superior judge to their "darana dhamkana," rakshas who is forcing a helpless woman in skimpy clothes and come hither look to "l-l-live in" with him "bina shadi," and do "sab kuch" with him too.

terrible (where are the samosas). tell him there's no way he can have what he wants. "you are sentenced to living with lavanya (everyone holds their breath, will you force the rakshas to do the right thing and marry this poor maid?)... not."  yes, that's right, throw lavanya out of his life. this will lead to exactly what you want in the future and right now too. the rakshas looking monstrously good in his natty brown jacket, will peruse you ferociously from a low angle shot, say "oh, i can't darao her?!! but i can still scare you, can't i" and glide sublimely to his very own music to be right in front of you, breath touching distance, in just a few long strides. 

having accomplished your mission, you will fall backward eyes spewing nafrat, lips parting and quivering (it's an age old sign of hatred, especially when combined with heaving bosom). he will stare at you menacingly, eyes gone chocolate. justice will not be able to take such "tauheen," contempt of court.

she will discard her blindfold and appear to you as your favourite bua, rolling pin in hand (justice was despatched by you to make samosa, perhaps?). at this point if it all starts to remind you of the white rabbit, the queen of hearts, eliza dolittle, and the horrible henry higgins, fikar not. all is going fantastically. your nafrat is intact. rabba vey, you are so good at this.

3. every time anyone asks you to leave the city your adversary lives in, refuse to. insist that is what your dm recommends. conversely, every time your enemy says she'll leave town, go into a blue funk and get as many flashbacks of her as possible. nothing like a keen memory to sharpen the daggers.

4. following from 3 (which was a bit of a digression into other episodes but was necessary to create a complete guide), also refuse to be not insulted by him. sounds complicated, but it's simple really. this is what you do: even if someone is willing to pay you large sums of money to square up your debt, insist that the only way you will do this is by earning the amount. and that too, only by working in the very home of the person who doesn't farak you, who is always rude, nasty, as insulting as possible, and who makes you feel "main theek nahin hoon," every time you are mean to him. of course, make sure that you throw in a "shart," a strict one that says you will come to work only when he's not around. this works real well, he will hear of it and another level of how dare she hotness will be scaled. 

5. keep your ears clean. whenever anyone mentions, whispers, or even thinks of taking her name, hear it loud and clear. then go still. don't breathe. now, two options:
  

  5. a. glare at the one who has called your nafrat-ed one by a derogatory name such as chamkili, you may also narrow your eyes devilishly upon being told of her fiendish plans. how dare she put down such a condition... not to see you in your own house? it's MERA ghar... MY house, remember? the one from which you are determined to throw her out (i mean how to trust a guest who keeps climbing into you closet and other internal organs, who can blame you for shouting your most lusty "getooouuut," at her... if only your eyes would agree with your voice, sigh).

after eye narrowing, sashay sexily out into the hallway, and on finding her there as she is trying to look nonchalant eating chana, advance menacingly but with ballet like grace toward her, she will be compelled to walk in your direction, eyes only on you. as you cross each other she will mutter nuttily "bina shadi saath saath rakshas," (without marriage together together monster... to translate literally), giving you the perfect opportunity to do a mind blowing (see, everything is to your advantage) "what the."

then she will dash into a pillar, and you will not miss any opportunity to stare at her. for good measure, this will happen twice... this is serious nafrat, samjhi tum?

5.b when option "a" is not available, you must slip into flashback of woh ladki and plenty rabba vey. this episode however that was not necessary. the dream compensated most adequately, phew.

6. always remember to blame the other, only that one person... laad governor, rakshas, uss ladki, uss khushi kumari gupta, any other new names you might come up with... for all the "galati" in the world. one episode you say it, the next episode let your most important hated person do the needful.

1722. as a master strategy, take over his home. rush around teaching his girl friend how to be the girl he doesn't dream of; make her learn to do the things he doesn't like or care for. leap around the drawing room telling a most fascinating tale of a rather playful one, in the most charming and beguiling vein, leaving all who watch, like his nani, his sis, his favourite man servant, floored. to help you in this endeavour, his clueless l-l-live in poor girl friend in chhotey kapde is standing by.

at her wonderful cues, prance into action, point with grace and utter appeal toward the one you must hate, and call him by the name of another supreme villain, "kans." make sure you are looking like the cutest and most beautiful nut on earth while doing this, some extra ballet (or taekwondo) lessons might help strike the perfect pose. this will work. can't you tell be the way he's looking at you?

8. as reminded by chalhov. and because we are dead serious about this survival guide, we don't wish to hold back anything. so here goes: when sitting next to the baddie in his mythical suv (if horses and dragons can by part of myths, why not the white suv), remember never to put on seat belt. although you have driven your dad's car, and will later decimate all traffic rules hurtling frantically through sabzi mandis and things, but at this point, do make it a point not to wear that s thing. this will make sure the hate increases. the enemy can bark "seat belt peheno!" wear seat belt!! in various shades of boorishness. and at your fumbling, lose patience, reach across brusquely, thrust his face closer to yours, his torso mere millimetres away from yours, combat you in an eye lock while clicking the belt into its slot. even writing this can cause breathing failure, so please, whatever you do, don't miss a chance to inhale and exhale, you will feel the edge of your ear go hot, a certain prickle back of neck, definite change in heart rate, and a difficulty understanding which part of you is feeling what. do not worry.

 it is believed that the perpetrator of the seat belt nafrat is undergoing similar symptoms. you will both survive, just about. however, at every opportunity that presents itself try out the seat belt tactic. practice makes perfect. (this was first observed in episode 65, at the very height of nafrating, and although this episode did not present the opportunity, we felt it was important enough to be included here. you never know...)

STICKY (this applies to all episodes, everywhere in the universe, even the ones hunted out of yt and dm): beware, from time to time you may hear things. strange are the effects of nafrat. piano trilling do me so do... hey hey... heyheyhey... more music, then rabba vey... ey ey ey ey. do not panic. in extreme cases of nafrat this may happen. though in recorded history it's never been known to have happened. oh well, there's always a first time... just take basic precautions, you'll be fine. remember, no matter what happens, do not close your eyes, or look away from the opponent's gaze. also, do not move. and should the adversary want to pull you in closer or nuzzle your hair, or frankly whatever, go ahead and let him do it. this is absolutely imperative for survival. live demo of this threat unfortunately not available, but the illustrations will suffice we hope.

to be continued. we hope you found this guide helpful.

a fabulous chance to learn more skills hands on awaits. it's the musician's birthday party, they say he has some wonderful hate tricks that no one can help but fall for. see you at the bash, wish you all a bina shadi saath saath sab kuch kar sakte hain  and an ek saath do do time.

translatiya: wish you all a "without marriage together can do everything" and "1722 or what sounds like together two two" time.

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episode 68 hold me, kans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then that yellow veil floated down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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remember janmashtami?

 

"khushi!" "khushi!!" his voice sounds worried, is that a trace of remorse in it? his eyes rend the darkness... where is she? he hits the steering wheel frustrated. "kahan gayi yeh ladki?" where has this girl gone! always comes back for her, like that time when it rained. tonight it wasn't the rain. it was the torrent of gussa. she walks alone in the dark, scared. read episode 71 long drive  and other janmshtami episodes

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episode 71 long drive

"khushi!" "khushi!!" his voice sounds worried, is that a trace of remorse in it? his eyes rend the darkness... where is she? he hits the steering wheel frustrated. "kahan gayi yeh ladki?" where has this girl gone! always comes back for her, like that time when it rained. tonight it wasn't the rain. it was the torrent of gussa. she walks alone in the dark, scared.


"mere hi ghar mein aakar, yeh shart rakhti ho ki main tumhare saamne na aaooon?!!" the last bit teeth grinding. come to my house on the condition that i shouldn't appear before you! hah, the cheek.

and so starts a fight he's been itching to have ever since he overheard the conversation between la and khushi. how khushi tricked him into attending the aarti. oh, hopping mad is he. in fact, that thing about her stipulating the condition, ever since la deliberately let him know of it, he's been seething.

and now that thanks to nani he has her alone in the car with him, he is all set for a super dooper asr gussawala fight. looks like she is in no mood to cower and back down either. great lovers are possibly great fighters too. i have heard from someone much into the ramayan, that valmiki's original had a really feisty sita, who fought with ram when needed. in fact, she roundly taunted him when he refused to take her along for the 14 year banishment in the forests. sita managed to have her way. ha.

the long drive has begun. in the cab, temperature pressure far from normal. plenty internal combustion going on. an about to erupt silence. he reaches to untie dm's chunari or so it seems. she prevents him with alacrity and without any thought rushes headlong into confrontation.

"yeh kya kar rahen aap?" what are you doing?

you can't open the chunari just like that.

and mr angry lets it rip. "kyun? karoonga toh kya karogi? di aur nani ko bataogi? shikayat karogi meri? tum apne aap koi samajhti kya ho... mere hi ghar mein aakar yeh shart rakhti ho ki main tumhare saamne na aaooon? tum ho kaun? how dare you... tumhari himmat kaise hui?... mujhe dhoke se aarti mein bulane ki..."

why? what will you do about it? tell di and nani? complain about me? who do you think you are? his temper is rising fast. come to my house and lay down a condition that i can't come before you?!!! who are you (the hell, is suggested by his tone)? how dare you? trick me into attending the aarti...!!

a right royal battle ensues. reminded me of the ocean raging against the shore again. lashing out, receding, lashing out again.

she's surprised. but is quick to recover. she's angry. and in her case too, the real anger was triggered by something else. he stops the car suddenly, till she's heard all he has to say, she must sit there and listen. the heat of a sunday afternoon storeroom suddenly in the car this late evening.

she tries to get out. he locks the doors.

okay, she lets him have it too. i did it because you were rude to bal gopal.

"toh?" so?

how could i just let you go?

"tumne theka liya hai kya? tum hoti kaun ho?" have you taken the contract (to resolve such matters)? who are you?

"aap kaun hote ho?" who are you?

i almost felt like stepping in and saying, "sh... don't fight like that... don't you know only married couples or at least couples in long relationships are allowed to yell and shout and make such a scene in the middle of the road?"

i respect god, can't bear to see anyone talk like this before him.

"mooh pher liya karo..." silver smooth rejoinder, turn your face away then.

"aap kabhi apni sar jhuka liya karo" cracking return, you should sometimes lower your head.

(if this were a  game of tennis, umpire would be having a mean time. love 15, love thirty, love forty, deuce, 30 love, 40 love... uff love all.)

"laad governor toh aap ho hi..." you are of course, laad governor...

he looks at her...

thought you'd get some wisdom after doing arti, she completes. but... and this is when she really begins to go where no one should ever dare to venture in, his inner rage...

"bina shadi kiye kissi ladki ke saath aise rehna," living with a girl without marrying her, she mutters.

"jo bolna hai mere samne bolo," whatever you have to say, say it to my face, he rasps (at last i get to write an m&b verb)... "jab main tum se baat kar raha hoon toh meri taraf dekhkar baat kiya karo...main tumse kuch kah raha hoon!!!" when i talk to you, look at me!!! i'm telling you something!

"humne kaha ki aap rakhas hain rakshas!" i said you are a rakshas, a demon.you don't respect god, you don't give importance to people either. which is why you're showing such disrespect to lavanya ji.

ah, finally it's out. her extreme discomfort with the whole living in thing. completely at odds with her view of life. repulsive, abhorrent, wrong.

he's confused. what's she talking about.

and khushi clarifies that living with la without marriage is what she considers "beizzati."

he stops the car again.

"kya bakwas kar rahi ho..." what nonsense.

note how neatly the quarrel escalates this point on..

how can you do this, counters khushi.

i can... it's my life... and i don't believe in marriage. asr is clear.

"aur lavanya ji?" what about la?

"tum hoti kaun ho uski taraf se..." who are you to take up the cudgels for her? he is incensed. voice rough, hard.

"ek ladki," a girl, says she. making la's cause her own. khushi as "jagruk nagrik" flits through the mind, but here the situation will take a really nasty turn, even before you know it's coming.

"darte hain aap... apne rishte ko naam dene ke liye... kyunki aap kamzore hain," you are scared to give you relationship a name, because you are weak. khushi is getting very rude and moralistic, crossing a line... but she is now too far gone to stop and so, "par apne kabhi yeh socha hai.. aapke ma baap ne bhi sha-" but have you ever thought, you mother and father also mar-

"get out."

swift, almost sotto voce, doused with cold anger. who would have believed his voice was rising and heated just a moment ago. that reference to his parents seems to have hit a nerve. he isn't thinking. some place inside is in turmoil, waves rising, crashing, frothing. on the surface a deathly calm. a decision is done. "tumne suna nahin... maine kaha get out..." didn't you hear, i said, get out. again, no shouting, just a command.

she's worried, frightened, it's late. what's she to do alone here in the middle of nowhere.

and he steps out of the car, walks out, over to her side, opens the door, grabs her and pulls her out of the car. then walks back to his seat and drives off. that cold, that nasty.

his rough, angry wheels leave a last lashing on her. mud.

"keechar uchhalna." the hindi words for spattering mud on someone, speak of loss of face, of respect. of course, this will happen to khushi, in fact, just like this evening, his actions will mire her further in the muck.

but perhaps here as in later, the important thing really is he will not be able to go away despite all the anger, the hate, the gussa. how hard i tried to hate you, khushi, but my own heart wouldn't listen to me. yeh tumne mujhe kya kar diya, khushi. and me, how hard i tried that i may hate you, but i couldn't, arnavji. can you hear me, khushi... hamesha.

tonight, despite everything, all his red hot rage... he could still hear her. so he had to return. not just once, twice. there is a tie between them building, whether they know it or not, whether they acknowledge it  or not. the sort of tie that lasts forever, in sickness, in health, in gussa, in joy, marriage or no marriage.


extra extra extra
every shot in the car today and the sequences later, wanted to be captured and included in the post. i've chosen some i just had to share, hope you enjoy.

again a hot sunday afternoon storeroom crashes into the evening.

she won't take that hand. balled fist, again.

"gadi mein baitho," sit in the car. "pahle aap apni badtameezi ke liye maafi maangiye," first apologise for your rudeness she'll demand. of course, no chance of that happening, but a much more gorgeous outcome will her demand get, a classic sobti "palat," the turn back.

and finally, a question, if you had a chance to replace the girl in one of these cars (girls, not bua ji), which car would you choose. and why?

 

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episode 70 lights please

every time i see this shot, i can smell the sulphur.

  
episode 70

suddenly came darkness. all he wanted was to be left alone with his lap top, not attend the janmashtami puja going on downstairs. never one to stop his family from doing what they pleased, he at the same time did request he be left out of the observation of rituals he had come not to believe in.

arnav singh raizada was not a character conceived lightly. in a culture where patriarchy and expressed theism is the way of most, where feudal practices and a tendency toward blind faith often goes unquestioned, here was a protagonist, a hero, who did not subscribe to any of the prevalent norms. he clearly said he did not believe in "tumhara bhagwan." interestingly he never said, as far as i know, that he did not believe in god. today too, he told the jaw dropped khushi, "main uss moorti aur usske ishaaron pe vishwas nahin karta... aur agar iss baat ke liye tumhara baal gopal aasmaan kholke mujhpar bijli girana chahe na... toh main intezaar karoonga." 

i don't believe in that idol and its signs... and for this if your bal gopal wants to open the skies and strike me with lightning... i'll be waiting.

amazing that such a man was not only accepted but practically adored by the audiences. i particularly noticed the husky challenge in his voice on the last, i'll be waiting... no fear whatsoever. i am prepared to bear the consequences of my actions. in that i heard the cry of the individual to rise above fear.

his heart says he can't believe in an idol and rituals around it, he can't bring himself to observe therefore. hindu practice is a wide and vast thing, it does not require us to follow any particular kind of worship, nor does it make belief in god mandatory. you can be an atheist and a hindu, of course the majority amongst us is theistic by inclination, practicing in several different ways. the validity of different ways of practice, the inclusive urge is one of the tenets of hindu thought. each to her/his own... whatever path takes you there, take it.

my father always called hinduism a way of life. and what i understood finally was that at the core what is of importance is dharma... doing one's duty. as far as practice is concerned, that is.

in this, arnav singh raizada is never wanting. every duty that is his, he does and is willing to do. this is my personal understanding of my faith. i do not wish to offend anyone else's way, that would be an abs no no. just that as i look at and sense asr, i am touched by this differently expressed hindu, and amazed at the actor's ability to create this aspect without giving offence or turning people off.

there's more. he has refused his father, denied his name. utterly. he believes his father was wrong in cheating on his mother, not taking his responsibility. he is unbearably hurt by his father's actions. that snapped moti dori the first time khushi and he met, scattering pearls, was somewhere the state of his and his sister's life... bikhar gaya... everything was scattered by one man's actions, lives lay rudderless, broken. then comes his uncle's betrayal. finally he did the unthinkable. he lets his father's name go... took his mother's name. not because he wants to punish his father, but because he wants to respect his mother, give her the place she deserves... traditionally a place given to the father. from him is our "identity" derived in patriarchal systems... with one decision he shuts the door on that.

as for feudal tendencies, yes he loves to yell and shout at the servants, but notice the affection they have for him, not seeming to mind his loud voice at all. clearly, mr's bark is worse than his bite. and in his home, though he says, it's MY house, look who really rules. it's nani and di all the way.

in asr, i find a modern man with new strengths, a fearlessness and a willingness to take on life, to make his life his own responsibility... never leave it to fate. there's something terribly attractive in that for me, personally.

of course, he is flawed, and there's a lot of fine tuning to be done in his way of thinking as he goes along, but the basic structure floors me. as for faith, no one with a conscience as deep as his can be without a certain compelling faith. just that it is felt and expressed by him differently, not in the way we are accustomed to. in his love for his sister, his wiping the tears off a little girl's eyes, his quiet personal visits to the temple on the day of his parent's death anniversary, his sacred garden, his communion with plants, in so many places he prays. do we see?

and i can't help but think, in making him light that lamp in the darkness, there was a veiled message from creators.

the story was rather weakly presented. surely, in his own home, he knew that is where the arti set up is. also, the uncanny silence would have tipped him of. but because of the jai prakash to the power of three... i just let it pass. a tight, deep sequence bang in the centre of episode. core idea of 70 for me. three helpers are named after light... light of creation or om, om prakash; light of god, hari prakash (my translation, may not be accurate, but hari is how god/krishna is referred to), and most pertinent this evening, the victorious one who spreads light, jai prakash. then there is rahim chacha, rahim meaning compassionate (one of the essential traits of the eternal), derived from racham which means mercy/compassion and is related to the womb. how beautiful.

tonight it was the victor who would spread light that got called three times. was he also the one who came and lit the lamp?

jai prakash. jai prakash. jai prakash.

"light, my light, the world filling light,
the eye kissing, heart-swetening light!
ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life;
the light strikes, my darling,
the chords of my love;
the sky opens, the wind runs wild,
laughter passes over the earth."

~~~ robi thakur ~~~

again a darkness that will take us to light. a new and different light. a light that stays forever and gets it voltage from the heart. how do i know? why, bal gopal ne ishara diya hai... bal gopal has given a sign... look. 

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episode 69 to catch a love

come to think of it, la's instinct was right. there was a thief abroad. to catch it however, you don't call the police. you don't call anyone. you simply watch and hope some day you'll be stolen from just like this, in broad daylight, before all eyes.

today, while the whole family got ready to celebrate the birth of one of the most intriguing figures of indian thought, the eclectic vishnu avatar, krishna, love came to take what it thought was its, without seeking any permission whatsoever. such is the way of love. and perhaps this insight into its nature gave birth to the rich and beloved love story of krishna with his paramour radha. curiously set outside the boundaries of conventional norms, the love of the two, who met as children, separated, married other people, but continued to be lovers taking this emotion to its highest and most breathlessly immortal extent, this tale of prem, is sublime and so complete, it never occurs to most of us to turn around and say, "hain? how come"? even though many of us hear while growing up, that radha was krishna's mami.

the other love that comes to mind when gopal is mentioned is that of his mother's for him and his for his mother. his adopted mother... yashoda. i get goosebumps even thinking of this relationship. the many questions and playful love seeking of the little nand kishore is subject of lovely songs, stories, dances, paintings, and a part of growing up, grand mother's tales, memories. my mother's generic name for all of us siblings was, yes, "gopal." of course, she had to be kinda pleased with you to call you that.

both these loves were there today. as asr's eyes told many things at the mention of his mother, and again as he looked at khushi. he knew of that first love of his... it stayed in his heart, and in its intensity and purity it practically defied death. a son's love as full as a mother's.

his feelings for khushi, on the other hand, he was not really aware of, yet they were clearly in place, and love was quietly stealing his heart and giving it to a girl with a smile in her eyes, a happy giving heart who nonetheless had only the most bitter words for him on her lips.  but what was in her heart? ha, there again the thief was up to its tricks. the clever cosmic lover had taught love well.

did someone who grew up in a very krishna environment write this tale? some day, if i get a chance, would love to find out from the creators how much of their own beliefs and desires and myths seeped into ipk.

another beautiful thing, story always moves in two layers, sometimes more. like a river. the surface is visible, flowing in a particular direction, but below it is another story rippling, gurgling, playing with thoughts, jumping over memories, going to meet the ocean and become part of its being.

the second underlying story was my killer today. as always it was short, pithy, and a complete knock out.

started with a prologue. he came down the stairs as his sister walked up to him with a dejected air.

in an instant he knew why. jeeja ji. khushi was teaching la to set up the birth of krishna tableau. he turned hearing her voice... looked at her and...

hey hey... the beautiful music device that hints at the state of his mind. what's happening to him? this call...

"tumhe yaad hai chhotey...?"

his sister recalled the time as a child he'd put glue in the cucumber which cradled baby krishna and he was stuck there. ah so asr had done this to bal gopal? maybe that's why he's planned such sweet revenge? 

how angry maa was that day.

his eyes which were on khushi, came in a fluid motion to di, and then got lost in the memory of his first true love. struck me as interesting that shift of feelings. as though there was a connection there. his love for khushi and his love for ma. much later, sitting in a garden dedicated to his mother he would make her his wife, his ma's bahu, that is all the ritual he needs.
       
"dant hi nahin, maar bhi padi thi."

not just a scolding, got a beating too.  touching clean delivery. eyes remember, caress and feel, then come back to reality, "meeting hai..." got a meeting, got to go. the little eye movements had said much. somehow i felt janmashtami is particularly painful for him, he just misses his mum. which is why, he'd rather stay away.

as he walks out, she sees him. and in classic khushi vein, delivered with sanaya's talent for funny, she goes in her head,"laad governor kahin ka, hoonh, pata nahin kis kis ko dara ke aa raha hai... aur kiss kiss ko daante ja raha hai..." laad gov, wonder who all he has scared and who else he is off to scare. just before this he was particularly nasty to her, calling her a gold digger again. but notice how, she never takes the awful things he says that seriously. why? is it because her heart hears the unsaid, and doesn't get so freaked out? and then of course, there's her typical fending off of the blues by catching some fun and throwing it on the gloom and doom. lovely dialogue, from the talented mr kevaliya (or whoever wrote this one), naughty those 4 "kisses" in the sentence.

he looks at her. and all that flows in him is a feeling... its mesenger, rabba vey.

"bye" says he softly to di, his mind still soaked in memory. me dead.

a little kurta giving and not really taking, as always, with di.

he again looks at her, then leaves.

krishna is being set up. or is he setting up his leela? his game?

the story.
"ek minute, nani."


 
he walked back into the scene amid turbulence. cops at the entrance, whole family standing there, tense. khushi has tears in her eyes. there was talk, some anger, some suave managing of the situation by the tycoon of raizada house, a "scene" superbly averted by the grandmother. she possibly had taught the tycoon many of his management skills and his straight forward, courageous handling of things, and bequeathed some stubbornness while at it. all that really registered was this.

(i had a feeling he knew she was at the centre of this fiasco.)

and then came poignant moments, not in some beautiful wood of vrindavan, right by the staircase at shantivan it took place.

he sees her wiping tears... she's turning, he pretends he didn't see a thing... walks away. rabba vey builds, he goes up the steps and stops, turning to look back.

a whole love story got told in those last few seconds of episode.

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think the police could have caught this thief? anyway, some other prem kahanis from 69.

"payal ji, humne aapke banaye huye pede khay..."payal ji, i ate the sweets made by you... what he was saying really: you are the sweetest thing ever, when i see you my heart leaps up, other parts of body also do things. finally akash said something. and payal, isn't she a little bit more bold though than him, gave him this intense look.

bua and mami stole a few moments of lau with some trading of insults and lakshmi talk. their cupid is the goat for sure. missed kaal, bet that has major meaning. "ah ee ghar mein toh bahut jeeb jantoon hain," bua ji's yes this house has many animals, had me giggling. my family and other animals and durrell came to mind

my super love for nani grew. what a woman. when she took guarantee of khushi, oh the look on the innocent young girl's face. and that stylish handling of situations... with authority but with grace too. the way of the previous generation. how to be assertive without being aggressive... instead of reading management books on it, one should just see the matriarchs of yore. despite all the pushing down of women, they somehow managed to rise... and rule; and bind their fams with tough love.

ok, today no place for hate... so no shyam.

just one last thing, so la really thought lauki was cucumber? asr, tsk tsk.

 

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janmashtami episodes

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