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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episode 83 i can do it (vm)

sharp writing, a very different actor, real comedy, four memorable scenes, all this in a 20-minute episode of a daily soap. some days i feel very lucky.
 
i'll start with the shortest scene. he called jp, jp. is this the first time? oh it's cute. but what comes next is one for the books.

after much preparation, he starts his apology in a stern voice... "mujhe tumse kuch baat karni hai..." i need to talk to you about something.

"jo bolna hai boliye, sahab... ab toh adat si pad gayi hai," say whatever you have to, sir... now it's become a sort of habit to listen (to complaints/harsh words). hapless, male voice answered... in resigned submission.

  
someone go hug the dialogue boys. a whole culture and a commentary on the everyman's life in that one sentence. a delivery that is so neat, tickles the funny bone, yet touches the heart too somewhere. while you laugh, a part of you says, oh i know this guy and i've done this to him at some point, i think. this unknown actor gets my respect for capturing a whole personality in a moment, one scene, two lines. i can see his sharp tongued wife, his three kids, and his ironing board beside a heap of clothes in a tiny little tenement in one of the jhuggi jhopri colonies of delhi somewhere.

"tum kaun ho?? aur yahan kya kar rahe ho?" who are you and what are you doing here, all his pent up tension releases in surprised, shocked yelling (where there's asr there's got to be some of that).

"main banwari... aapka dhobi," i'm banwari, your washerman.

ah, the lord is here again. another name of krishna bears the washerman, the ipk ankh micholi continues. krishna is never too far from the moment. either he strides it in the form of slither shyam, or sweet nk, or mohan the driver, or hai re nand kissore the call, or in khushi's fantasy of bankelalji, of course, as bal gopal, and radha's krishna, and now as banwari.

the writers had a great time doing this krishna thing. i wonder why. well, it adds a dimension to the story, and makes you think, good enough reasons i guess. who are you? i am banwari, your lord.

maybe that's what happened, krishna gave asr a visit, before he went off to fight a terrible battle. with himself. arjuna and his charioteer. in fact, at the beginning of the episode the ultimate liar had brought us a glimpse of the ultimate truth... "dhan aur man chanchal hai, mrityu satya hai." wealth and the mind are restless, death is true. death is the only certainty in this life krishna had told arjuna in that brilliant dialogue between the two in the geeta. well, bad or not, his name was shyam and some good, however unintentionally, he had to do. writers never cease to amaze me.

as he stood there disconcerted and seething, di came hurrying in and asked, "chhotey, kya hua, kya kiya banwariji ne?" chhotey, what happened? what did banwariji do? till now i was clutching pillow and laughing, at this i just hooted. what a fabulous final pirouette. reminded me of the classic old kishore kumar and mehmood movies with a punch of pulp fiction in it. yeah, what did banwariji do, chhotey?

next, a scene i could happily do without, but it was an instance of good writing, smooth, nothing forced, taking the story to where you want it to go.

anjali for once is not to be mollified. in fact she picks a fight over this constant absence of his, words lead to words till he yells at her, so what should i do, nothing? hang around you 24 hours?

and with this, the screenplay takes interesting steps toward one of ipk's most memorable interludes. asr in the throes of getting an unthinkable word out of his mouth: sorry.

but for that, first we must see slither sliming around his gullible rani sahiba, making her accept his apology before the entire family. in my effort to not look at el creepo, ugh in romantic cutesie vein, my eyes darted to all other corners of the screen. and the sweetest peeping in by fam was on. nani, mami, akash, no one paid any heed to their privacy, and why should they, slither wanted all the attention anyway. the ladli daughter of the house, everyone wanted her happy. and he wanted to turn that to his advantage. so made sure peep show wasn't curtailed, taking it all the way to lifting her up in front of everyone.

of course, i wondered why chhotey didn't rush to di's rescue. don't tell me he was being sensitive, giving his banished jijaji a chance to be di's caretaker. and while pondering thsi i noticed the sweetest peeper of all. ah, the newspaper boys, has a prop ever been better used.

say those three little words. wha!!! anjali looks startled and embarrassed, in front of everyone!... ah the cleverness (shudder), he means... "jao, maaf kiya," there, forgive you.

work done. shatir writing. as asr watches this elaborate mea culpa, forgive me scene, his eyes stir, he's remembering things, realisation dawning.

two thoughts come back. buaji saying the night he went to insult khushi with money, "pehle itna sunaya, aur phir maafi maangne..." and he cut in, "arnav singh raizada kabhi kissise maafi nahin mangta..." buaji: first, you insult, then you come to seek forgiveness-" he: "arnav singh raizada never seeks forgiveness from anyone."

(digression: sorry is important in many belief systems. among the jewish people, every year, on the day of atonement/yom kippur, you seek maafi from everyone you know. it is meant to be given, cleansing both receiver and giver. and strangely enough, as someone passes away, you give forgiveness to that person. again, something to do with lightening and cleansing the departing spirit, i guess.)

asr also remembered telling her the most hurtful words that finally broke her: today is an important day for me, and today to have to see your face is not something i like. he realises he has pushed everything too far. he had no idea she was an orphan and was flying of the handle, somewhere taking out his angst on the one he felt he had a right over, of course, why he had no idea. and anger is an issue with the man, he just can't control it, especially when his immense and intense hurt converts to rage and gushes out of him. rampant, wild, out to burn all in its path.

tiny eye movements. what's cookin', asr?

morning brings resolve, and we are at the scene which made me respect this actor for something completely different... not his acting, nor his looks. in fact, the reverse.

below may be the dishiest shot of a man in a mirror. but i don't think many actors would allow it. what the camera doesn't notice that much, the mirror picks and magnifies instantly. relentlessly. look at him, the downward drag at the right side of his lips clearly visible. his one major defect in features many might say. and this young man is at the beginning of his career really at this point... shravan has become popular but not hugely so, asr is becoming a phenomenon, his fan base consists of girls who are majorly into his looks. how many actors playing a romantic lead would be comfortable with a shot where they're looking less than perfect? he not only is comfortable, he performs fabulously while looking at himself, flaw visible, and touches me deep. this actor deserves to succeed. so much of himself he gives.

 
confession: i find hotwa utterly so in all his mirror shots. the lips as much a thing that is fascinatingly him as his scar on lid. maybe barun knows this too, having affected several girls no doubt in his life, but still it is a risk. salaam to the man for taking it.

apology cookin', good lookin'? a determined asr, focused on job at hand, bone structure accentuated in the reflected image, and in bright green an absolute...

"dekho meri baat suno, kal ghar mein jo bhi hua wo..." er stuck. see listen to me... whatever happened at home yesterday...

no, no you can do it. he keeps trying to get it going. i mean tumne... stop, rattle... matlab... kal jo bhi hua, mai usske liye (yeah boy, you are there i knew it, you can) m...ma...

he is helpless. but he tries, again and again. barun flawless in performance. funny yet strangely touching. this ability to evoke layered response again and again, beautiful. very often sanaya hits the same note.

this is doable. "sirf... sorry kehna hai. bahut asan hai..." only got to say sorry... it's very easy... he's struggling, almost breaking into cold sweat.

"asr!" a smiling la enters. and in seconds, she goes "sorry sorry sorry." he's nonplussed. how do these guys do it?

he is in his own world and unthinking toward her, pretty rude really. la would often accept this off hand, uncaring behaviour. right from the beginning. why i wonder. is this love? or is this determination? or did la see her mom getting treated this way at home and to some extent thought it was normal. really his behaviour at this point was pretty bad. in season 2 he better say sorry to la properly. and to banwari too.

my next scene is from the evening before.

khushi sits forlorn on the steps outside, hands folded, pleading with the eternal, not to take her babuji away. she couldn't handle this loss of parents a second time. hand on her shoulder signals the entry of her saviour at this moment, jiji. if asr had di gather him into her arms and help him return the night before, tonight it's khushi's elder sibling doing that for her beloved younger one.

she's terribly close to her parents. even amma, not a word against her from anyone will she tolerate. not buaji, not dadi, not asr, nobody. this anchoring of khushi's part of who she is. she is not all of herself without them and will do anything for them. in that, a similarity again with asr. anything for di. right at the end, even put up with the man who lusted after his wife, kidnapped him, lied, cheated, stole. all for di. without her in his life, he doesn't feel complete somehow.

payal is a capable jiji, she always knows how to reassure khushi. she takes the conversation to lightness. "batao tumhara aaj ka din kaisa raha," tell me, how was your day. oh, wasn't it thanks to payal that khushi met asr in the first place?

as her question slipped out, it happened again. two star gazers got connected just on those words.

she remembered him saying no one understands anything and looked up at the sky, thinking of her parents, his, no one understanding, so much... segue beautifully to him standing by the poolside, also looking up. there at the sky.

the sky which will help them speak to each other one day by telepathy. the conversation has perhaps already started taking shape. on the day of the tut-ta hua tara; and now, the night of looking for a ray of light while the darkness of loss grips you and you fancy there's something, something in those stars up there.

why do we always look up i wonder when seeking answers. he recalls he'd said, never to tell him again that she understood, and then di asking her if she missed her parents. she understood alright, just that the smiling, nutty, prank laden khushi hid it so well.

the fourth scene.
he hears woh ladki who comes to train lavanya, you know uss khushi, won't be coming today. what? not coming? cut her pay... she doesn't get salary to take leave. asr needs some education in labour laws clearly. but for now i am too enamoured of the man on the phone (pronounced khushi's way with soft ph sound) so will go on morcha later. ridiculously cute conversation,  not a word comes out. this is the brave, shatir, indomitable, master of all he surveys, ok you get the point, asr. and he is completely done in by one word.

"sorry toh bolna hai. itna difficult bhi nahin hai." sorry i will say, not that difficult. ah well. the time the poor guy is about to open his mouth after the courageous blank call, some nice tightwa comes careening from uss ladki. sanaya just too good in these scenes, eyes flashing, tongue lashing, choti flying, even babuji looks up in astonishment at the out of nowhere tirade against who knows whom.

"ghar mein ma behen ma behen nahin hai kya..." don't you have mother and sister at home, a very popular hindi dialogue, usually flung at lafangas/louts in buses and things. don't think asr's ever got that one. has to disconnect, barun brill at this affront.

"phone kat diya!!" indignant, she bangs down the phone.

but suddenly an awareness, something is triggered, a magic twirl of rabba vey like fairy dust circles around the two, both in their own homes. separate, yet somehow together. arnav aur khushi ek doosre se kabhi alag nahin ho sakte. in the middle of high comedy, a sudden leap into emotion, and its funny tug. so ipk.

and was it my imagination, or the opening scenes where she sits with her dad, thinking of asr suffering at the loss of his parents... while the prayers go on, there was a suggestion that a part of her was also there, the one with which she was thinking of him. clever clever makers.

sorry, for the rather long post. i have rambled.



vm hello love here.

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samjhi tum to sorry episodes

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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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janmashtami episodes

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episodes 96/97/98 honeymoon trail

na tumhari baat sunni hai aur na tumhari shakal dekhni hai... i don't care ki tum kahan jaati ho, kya karti ho... i don't give a damn.

not that he'd lied. in that rush of anger, he really thought he meant it. he didn't want to see her face, nor talk to her, he didn't care where she went, what she did, he didn't give a damn. the mood was very rhett butler, must say. scarlett had gone too far.

anger. his friend, his foe, his mate. that anger was needed if a little boy whose mother was torn from him suddenly and terribly, whose world was scattered like a string of pearls, snapped; the pearls falling and crashing, their sound sharp, repetitive, on the hard floor echoing... if that little boy were to survive this calamity, he needed to find something within him. the boy found his rage and made it his own.

and today, a young woman who intrigued him with her strange ways, who stayed in his head long after she'd left, who came up with the most bizarre plans to get him to do what he didn't want, and try as he might he couldn't get her out of his life, today, she had driven him straight round the bend on a road which he thought would be serene and uneventful.

"thodi hi der mein sochogi, ki kaash tumne mujhe  jaane diya hota..." in a short while you'll wish you'd let me go, he promised. khushi's pranks had not only completely thrown his nainital plans into disarray, now, to ensure that he doesn't stalk off without eating, without a car, in a foul mood and brooding, khushi had done a super filmi thing. "nahiiin!" she'd practically declaimed, gathered the crowds around and said, he can't leave her like that, it's not even been two hours and 24 minutes (er, khushi... natural born melodrama script specialist, that's what you are) that the two had eloped and got married... and all because the food was too hot, he was leaving? not her fault... aunty ji was to blame. poor aunty ji looked ashamed for causing such trouble. uncle ji gathered large turbaned men to bar the man from leaving, editors made a nice chutney of the scene showing different sets of large men from different camera angles, but none the less, what khushi had set out to do was achieved.

asr's adios plans were foiled. leaving a tawny eyed creature in orange red anger.

he'd watched the theatrics nonplussed. this is not a man who likes such campy things, most of all he will not tolerate someone trying to get the better of him. and there's khushi, raising eyebrows, smiling as if to say, "got ya." oh this is intolerable.

i must say, i understood his ire perfectly. and as the bhangra proceeded and the midway fun of that highly unsubtle nature that seems to be dhaba fare got going, i was glad to see a nasty expression enter his eyes, and a mean lopsided smile take shape. he had another idea and this one would not please drama queen. the king of gussa meant to win this round.

"aur agar shaadi aaj hui hai, toh suhag raat bhi aaj hi hogi na?" so if the marriage took place today, the suhag raat must also happen tonight, right? khushi had not remembered how shatir the hungry angry young man could be. what?!!! wedding night? aunty jiii uncle jiii...

his "chale?" was a bit different from the tender one just a while back when her dupatta had fallen and he'd shown how keenly he understood her needs and respected them. he slung her on his shoulder with one easy tug, caveman style, and took her, protesting screaming kicking, to the "honeymoon suite."

there in  the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, he let his anger take over... "shhh!" he spat out. peremptory. at the end of tether.

you started the drama, i'll end it. today you've crossed all limits... before i wake up tomorrow morning, disappear from here. i don't give a damn. and he left her alone in the room and walked off to get some sleep in a comfortable bed.

she sat there petrified, the lights went out, she was frozen in terror. in a second the mood had been expertly changed from fun and light to dark and tense.

"devi maiyya raksha karna..." thoughts of the night at the guest house in my mind. the hours ticked by, she sat alone in fear.

he wakes up, the day registers. first name on his lips... "khushi" enquiring, then getting worried.. "khushi?!!" memory comes, and an expletive... oh shit. in an instant, he's up, the quilt flung off, quickness in every move. urgency.

where is she.

"aaj bhi hume tez gadi se darr lagta hai... hume andhere mein jaane se dar lagta  hai," she's scared of speeding cars and the dark even now, he is horrified as he recalls.

this was the thing about his anger. when it came it blinded him to everything completely. perhaps taking his mind to the state it was in on a day from hell. everything went blank, all he knew was to hit out against everything. go away... go away... take this terrible reality away possibly was trapped in silent screams within him. it blocked out everything.

everybody.

even khushi.

but when he calmed down, the enormity of his actions swamped him, making him feel terrible, guilty, just downright bad. i don't know why i am like this he will say to la soon, he does this without thinking or knowing... "anjaane me"... but when he realises what he's done he is just so ashamed of his actions.

he found  her. he also realised she'd been alone through the night, without light or fan, sitting... and as if that weren't enough, she had high fever.

all because he was angry. "dammit" under the breath.

and the cave man turned into the gentlest being on earth as he lifted her and carried her to a comfortable place, lay her down tenderly and soothed her fever away.

"khushi, khushi," how can a monster sound so sweet.

"amma... babu ji..." khushi needs her own, her care givers, delirious she seems to be. his eyes darken, sadness at his own behaviour and worry about her in them.

"khushi, uthkar doodh pilo... phir dawai khani hai..." khushi, get up and drink your milk, you have to have your medicine after that...

a pair of most caring arms lifted khushi up by the shoulders and brought her close toward his heart, looked as though he just wanted to gather her up and embrace her, enfold her with his arms, like the most precious thing life had given him. maybe the director had slowed down motion, maybe the cinematographer had got the perfect magnification and angle, perhaps the lighting was perfect, but could just that have created that sense of drawing into oneself in the scene? or was it the phenomenal understanding of a moment in a characters's life that somehow barun and sanaya seemed to have.

rabba vey and a gust of wind, rustling by, as he lifts her up, a scene i'll remember long.

shashi gupta knows the truth.

he could get angry, he could walk away, he could  shout and ignore, but he could not ever not love his drama queen. she could call him names, she could fight, she could even hate him, but she could never not love her gussa boy.


97

sunlight streams in through the window. he sits by her and tends to her, bathing her fevered brow, watching over her...

he begins to move his hand away and she turns her face, resting a soft childlike cheek against his hand, nestling in trustingly. in the silence of his heart there's a truth, when no one's watching, he won;'t push it away. his heart moves before his head can. she snuggles more against his palm, he slides down from the bed, to keep her comfortable, leave his hand where she wants it.

he remembers how she'd fed him the previous day. all attention and immense care.

he remembers the threat, get out before i get up tomorrow morning.

i'm sorry, khushi, i'm so sorry, the words fill the air, so still all around. not a trace of anger or worldliness in him now. just a boy, a girl, and a real feeling. what else is a honeymoon.

he reaches to gently ease his hand out and remembers a tear, rolling down from her eyes. his arms around lavanya, a tear sliding down khushi's cheek, the cheek resting so peacefully in his palm right now. why did she cry?

why do i feel at this moment, he knew, he knew exactly what was going on, within both of them.

she's better, they are leaving their "suite," a gentle air about him, concerned,
 
"khushi?... tum... theek toh ho na?" khushi, you're ok, aren't you?

"hum dilli wapas apne aap chale jaayenge..." i'll get back to delhi on my own, she offers, obviously still hurt by his ruthless anger. he's about to tell her not to be like that, he couldn't leave her... or so his body language indicates.

and the jeep with wild people arrives.

asr and khushi confront the goondas. babuji confronts shyam.

right versus wrong... pure versus evil. 

a fascinatingly well constructed segment of intercutting between the two scenarios. as shyam takes on his most virulent form, dhaiya ho begins to play. his music from day one. which clearly means, that day when he met khushi as protector, even then he was not. he was always something cringingly dark, convoluted, and coiled. some day we'll construct the perfect story for him.

at the dhaba, as asr's anger is triggered by a man pushing khushi, his music holds sway.

both men are willing to kill someone... for khushi. but only one of them loves her. yet he leaves her alone in darkness without a covering the whole night. it's complicated... maybe because it's real?

"haan mar daloonga, isski himmat kaisi hui tumhe haath ..." yes, i'll kill this man, how dare he touch you... you are mine asserts his heart, his gut, mine, and i will always be yours, holding you loving you, making sure no one hurts you... mine... do you hear me? and don't you forget that, dammit. but his head can't hear at the moment. too much anger. his friend. his foe. his mate.

he's beating a man relentlessly, kicking, pummeling, hurling, hitting his head against the floor... a hand on his shoulder, and he returns to reality.

98

 
blood on knuckle, a shaken man at the wheel. he has nothing to say to her. silent. he remembers her voice rising, "aap ko ho kya gaya?" what's happened to you.

he has no answer, just questions plague him, "kya ho gaya tha mujhe? why did i react like that?" what happened to me what happened to me what happened... his mind buzzes. te answer his heart and gut knew, his mind, his dimaag had not yet heard. his anger was protecting his heart, reflex action. his buddy, his temper. no nothing must hurt his fragile heart again, not if his gussa has anything to do with it.

tense silence. khushi chirps in, "dilli aa gayi..."

not a word.

finally she can't take it, she has never seen him like this. all through, despite all her nautanki, it's all been about her wanting to bring good things to him really. a little pyaar time with la, when that failed, a little pakoda to calm him, he won't have it... then some food at the dhaba, something nourishing, he hasn't eaten the whole day and he fainted in the morning. but he wouldn't listen. then the nahiiin natak, so that he wouldn't be stuck alone on the highway, minus car, awfully hungry. always about him. her laad governor whom she even in the third person calls, "aap" with a strange kind of respect, and yells at as though she has every right to, she has no idea why her eye wells up with a tear when he holds another, or why her expression turns to melancholy when someone else speaks of marrying him... all she knows is that she is worried about him, this anger, this out of control fury is no good for him. and if it's not good for him, she can't bear it... it's not good for her.

"dekhiye aap kuch toh boliye... hum jaante hain ki humne aapko bahut pareshaan kiya, lekin aap kuchh bol nahin rahe hain toh hume kuchh ajeeb sa lag raha hai... (ajeeb, again that word, it is the defining word for the nature of their love story, along with hamesha and vishwas and dammit maybe?) waise toh aap hamesha hume daant-te hain, chillate hain, hume apni aukat ki yaad dilate hain...waise kariye na. iss tarah  aap ko chup baith-te hue humne kabhi dekha nahin hain..."look, please say something... i know i have driven you crazy, but you're not talking and that feels so strange... otherwise you scold me, shout, (and then remembering, she adds with enthusiasm), remind me of my status... why don't you do all that. i've never seen you sit quietly like this...

"aap kuchh toh boliye na... hume daant lo... daant lo aap..." say something... just scold me...

"just shut up," cold silver ice in his voice.

"shut up? devi maiya ki jai ho," she's relieved, delighted to be insulted, at least he spoke. he hasn't spoken in three hours... she makes the mistake of reminding him of what he did, prattles away, if he could do this to a guy because he pushed her, what would he do if the guy dared hit her...

"get out." the words shot out like a bullet.

he didn't want to be reminded of his loss of control. why was he behaving like this, what was the matter with him? arnav singh raizada has never felt this sensation before. it feels alien, scary, threatening to him.

"kyun ab humne kya kiya?" what did i do now? she has been here before, she is flummoxed but not unduly shocked... till his second, through gritted teeth, expanded, emphatic:

"get... out."

she is hurt, terribly, again. he slaps money into her hand, brusquely helps her take off her seat belt. classic that struggle of hers with the belt, all her agony in that jerky unfocussed movement, even shyam letting her down never hurt her perhaps as much as this man's blow hot blow cold. she leaves.

when he enters home, restless, seething, confused, grazing anger within, the screenplay uses a cute, wacky foil to contrast with his state of mind and throw it into relief. op. all gleaming smiley face asking for chhotey saab's attention, getting entangled with him like a playful kitten (perfect man for khushi to play ankh micholi with when she gets bored being rich at the raizada home). he tells op to get off his back and enters his den. a question searing.

"kal tak main usse pareshan tha toh phir aaj kya ho gaya hai mujhe?" till yesterday i was irritated with her, then what happened to me today?

even when you were "pareshaan" you averted your gaze to hand her her dupatta, turned away to give her privacy. even when you were angry, you carried her to a room and left her in a safe place, not in the jungle. when you realised your folly, you rushed to find her, mortified at the state you discovered her in, when her cheek rested on your palm you only felt the flow of tenderness within, not a single instinct to draw away, when you gathered her up you were caring toward a girl who had driven you batty through a harrowing journey... and then when a  man touched her, you lost it. yet you haven't a  clue what's happening to you.

as you didn't all those times you couldn't stop thinking of her... after bersarai and the sindoor incident, the day you ran like a maniac to find her in a crumbling edifice, the sunday afternoon you thought she wasn't coming back and ached, the endless times you repeated to yourself she's going away to lucknow for hamesha and couldn't think of anything else. you put up with her mad plans, get angry but can't get rid of her from your mind, you can't bear to see a tear in her eyes, i could go on.

yet you don't know what's happening to you. i guess the drive from faraq nahin padta to faraq padta is an arduous one, sometimes in the middle of it is a honeymoon suite.

96/97/98

and along this difficult route, another milestone has been covered, shashi gupta is the only one who knows the terrible danger approaching his chhutki, and ever since that single shot on a car window that speaks of knowledge on one hand and the eternal denial of truth on the other, shyam knows what he has to do if he is to get khushi. and that has led him to turn into a killer, even worse. khushi's father is in hospital fighting for his life. a killer lurks undetected among the din and cry of emotion, coiled, convulsing, uncouth, just by the side if the ditch.




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