#happy2017

a rickety ladder can sometimes be more potent than champagne.

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preeto and a wedding episodes

episode rambles

fanfiction

episode 240 be my bride

"arre inhone toh generator theek kiya toh yeh mixie aur radio kya cheez hai?"

this guy fixed the generator... so what's a mixie or a radio to him.

in the middle of a wedding we went to a strange place called the raizada repair centre where khushi set up a situation that compelled asr to repair all the dud contraptions of mohalla lakshminagar.

despite fairly decent acting by all in the train jaisi lambi queue and even a bit of asr flirting and deal making with the suddenly very flat and strident wife, i didn't really connect to the moments.

just a thought in my head. he could repair everything under the sun, but alas not the one thing that needed only his touch to heal and be whole again. a very broken heart belonging to a rather too loudly happy and laughing girl.

soon enough it was time to slip on cow dung and look suitably chastised in middle class milieu learning all about how the good people on the other side of life live. sorry, but had shyam suddenly kidnapped gautam hegde, ved raj, and whoever else was writing the script so he could niftily kill off asr without having to actually abduct him and take care of his boarding and lodging for almost a month? it's expensive to keep tycoons after all. this entire track did all it could to finish off the arrogant devil in white shirt and dark waistcoat who was the dhakdhak in a girl's acidity. suddenly everything about him had to be changed... it was perfectly fine to be completely insensitive to his needs, make him do all sorts of strange things, take off his clothes as and when whoever pleased, get him wet and gleefully laugh at the thought of swooning girls and climbing trp, and in a fit of self righteousness even remove bits of his dimaag so he doesn't say, "shut up! seat belt!" get into the suv and drive off with his wife to his castle.

really i can't believe i just sat through all the episodes and found things to like in them even. honest confession... i did it for barun. not because he is drop dead gorgeous... well then i'd be watching baat with rapt attention again and again too... also shraddha. no, that was not the reason, though oh yes, he looked ab kya boloon.

but really it was because, no matter what, he kept asr alive and keeping. and in subtle well thought out ways... because frankly the script was not helping one bit. the little stylish gestures, the slightly aloof air, the flecks of temper or impatience or just plain dimaag amid too cutesy stuff. even when he was melting at the attention and pampering by aunty and bua ji, he was always asr.
while repairing, errant locks of hair fell forward, hair mussed uff. and an air of concentration perfectly called up... uff again.

during the somewhat forced funny scene with bua ji and blue tooth, again i thought how does such a slight thin guy move with such presence. pure animal grace on screen. the camera loves barun sobti, can't blame it.then i watched gobar, found asr... lotus in muck. just look at him.

"don't even say a word!" said the wounded man to his heartlessly grinning wife. what a time this fellow is having...

she mimed the whole shall i wash you down with a hose thing... like that day in shantivan when he had said they wouldn't speak to each other again.

"whattt!" sexy anger.

she smiled, she loves to be shouted at by him i am convinced now.

she sprayed him with the hose, and he just let her... somehow just used to the madness now, quick learner... and as he watched her laugh and giggle that familiar thing happened... hey hey... watching her being khushi he could let go from within, get lost and fall in love again and again... asr still has no idea this is love, this is just faraq that refuses to go away.

as in all episodes, writers mixed comedy with action with a spot of drama, life like mix of the various moods and tones of existence.

she is dressed in wedding finery again... last time she had become the dulhan, though she had no idea that would be the case. she tells her sad friend, the dukhan this evening... forget all else, today is your life's biggest and most beautiful day. this is khushi. she has always believed in marriage, in the wedding day being the most significant day of one's life...

she gets involved, she revels in her task, she wants the bride to be beautiful, that is the right of a bride... "hum usko aur bhi saja denge..." she had said, i'll deck her up even more.

no one had dressed her up that night. an important ritual, "sajana". looking beautiful as a woman ready to accept a man into her life, dressing up for him, is a very important part of the wedding customs, always a lot of fuss about who is doing the bride's make up, etc., these days it's parlours, once it was aunts, cousins and friends. and some giggling and gossip over this happy task.

the friends asked khushi if she remembered the day of her wedding.

lagta hai purane din yaad aa gaye, apne shadi ke din yaad kar rahi ho na?

khushi was smiling... he had walked in and was gazing at her... in his hands bua ji's machine, this time he has done the right thing and insisted he'd take it. 

in a second her smile began to contract, a strain of music reminded her of things...

he watched, tense.

a helpless girl stood before a man who wouldn't listen to anything. a man she loved... he thrust a mangalsutra around her neck.

tell us, khushi, chimed the friends. "bata do, khushi," even preeto wanted to know... there was only one thing to do.

she lied.

she made up a story of the wedding finery she had possibly detailed and executed in her mind many times.

"hamara lehenga bhi kuch aisa tha, lekin poora laal nahin tha... hara bhi tha... hamara man pasand rang... khile bahar ki tarah,"

my lehenga was a bit like this, but not all red, with a touch of my favourite colour, green...

he listened knowing what he had tried not to know maybe: how much he had devastated that laughing girl with this one act of his...

he had been convinced there was no other way. maybe he realised she would be hurt... but like this? and the impact it would have on him?

"kaano mein jhoomke halke toh nahin the, lekin unpe kaam bahut baarik tha... zara si bhi hawa chalti... toh awaz karti..."

the birdcage earrings were not light but the work on them was very delicate, the slightest breeze, and they'd make a noise...

he swallowed... this was reaching him and falling all over his being. he was getting drenched again. this time by the tears trapped in a girl's heart.. that she is trying all she can to rein in... 

he had fallen perhaps in a really murky mess, rotten and stinking... maybe the only thing that would wash it all away and make him pristine again are a girls innocent, untainted, true tears.

"haatho mein chooriya aise bhari hui... ke hamari kalai nazar hi nahina aa rahi thi..."

bangles covered my arms so that i could barely see my wrist.

"payron mein khoob ghungroo wali payal jo har kadam par chhanchanati thi..."

on my feet payal with many bells that rang and jingled at every step...

friends are looking dreamy eyed. such a lovely picture this girl paints. her voice poised and full of grace... sanaya's forte these scenes with that voice touched by a timeless quality. mellifluous, pure, completely free of anything dark.

he watches, a sadness invading him and swallows again.

"aur maathe par? chaand sa sundar teeka..."

and on my forehead? a teeka as lovely as the moon.

she was as pretty as a moonbeam bathed night tonight... 

as she completed her picture, looked as though he was visualising her like that... just like that. as if he wanted to see her like that... his beautiful bride.

"humne pallu kuch aisa dala hua tha"... i had taken my pallu like this, she goes on to help her friend again.

a serene calm in the room, the bride is getting ready, the mood is  concentrating.

the friends wished she had called them to the wedding, they would have seen her all dressed up. innocent girl chatter, a bit giggly, spreading light happy love.

anguish marks her face...

she was getting ready to save the moment with another lie, when she saw him in the mirror... with his load, with his despair in wretched eyes... his lips looking more asymmetrical than usual, something very emotional and intense in that. 

she looked on not knowing what to say and he too... just a sadness, an immense sadness. in him something even greater, a burden. a burden much heavier than what he carried. once bua ji and khushi had lugged  a trunk and a load... today, his turn.

rabba ve... the mournful heavy call came from two hearts... some things cannot be said... he only suffered when he thought of that night. she did too and she had no idea why it had to be so, she had perhaps started dreaming of a very different night by then.

he turned away first, he couldn't keep looking at her...

he deposited the machine and turned to go, but he did have to turn back once, just once.

her eyes were full of tears now.

he remembered what he'd said... shadi karni hogi... mujhse... abhi (on an exhale, the "i" floating out to the skies). you have to marry... me... now. otherwise i won't let your sister's wedding go through.

and she recalled him dragging her up the stairs, flinging her, sindoor on her parting... rabba vey.

two conversations really... one over gobar, that makes things pure, and a spray of water that cleans away... the other over a sadness that nothing might ever wash away... not even the tears that welled in her eyes. and was there a sheen of moisture in his too?

thank g for bua jis and ammas and their gentle innocent fussing. they save our world from going insane keeping it firmly balanced with a hold of unrestrained love... did they ever finally make that pasta a la bachcha makai yani ki baby koren.

and really blue tooth does look like hearing aid, i am on bua ji's side on this one, hai re nand k.








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preeto and a wedding episodes
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steps 1

 

it's a fraction of a second, but it might be eternity. in the near ground there's a camera, a director, a set of shots being taken. different magnifications. different positions on the rickety steps, virulently muddy orange steps. there's make up, hair switch, marital claims, this is work, let's do a take... cut. in the near ground.

in a place hard to place but impossible not to accede to, there's a look and it tears and rends and flows through the universe holding all of it safe and reaches. there's a breath that comes bursting through the lungs and warms the air and heats earth's core. there's a silence that syncs with the sound of creation and joins another silence. on muddy orange rickety steps.

episode 239... 







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preeto and a wedding episodes
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steps 2

in candy pink swirling clothes that will keep you safe from all, even your own desire. your voice, your smile, your perpetually open wig like a veil over your self... what will you do when the look reaches, the breath warms, and silence meets silence... on the muddy orange rickety steps.

episode 239...














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preeto and a wedding episodes
episode rambles
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steps 3

let it all fall away. stand here, look at me. let the ocean surge, let time stop, let me hunger, don't assuage my thirst. on muddy orange rickety steps.



episode 239...














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preeto and a wedding episodes
episode rambles
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episode 243 a man's reach

arnav ji takes care of his own... he is the best pati in the world... her voice echoes in him, around him.

he wakes up...

a poignant scene as a man ponders his action, possibly feeling terribly trapped. a tenderness for the woman who sleeps beside him fearless of consequences seems to come over him.

her voice in his ear, his heart, his inner spaces that have been lying dark and untouched for so long... he can't bear to see me in tears... he never lets me do anything by myself...

"arnav ji duniya ke sabse achhe pati hain..." arnav ji is the best husband in the world.

he stands at the window looking out... a habit to look outside, escape the clutch of four walls. this is what he does at home too, at the french windows he stands and gazes at the water, at the sky... out... there out there somewhere lie the answers maybe... a thinking man, an intelligent man, in a quandary like he had never expected in his life.

sleep in his eyes, he stands wide awake.

the crescendo of voices return, this time he hears his mother in law, the lady he calls aunty and cannot bring himself to call mother, but whom he has grown to respect and like and who treats him with understanding, tenderness. he knows a mother's heart is sensing things and feeling discomfort. maybe arnav singh raizada doesn't like this part of this conundrum too... an upset mother is never a part of his plans, though that is what this plan of his has wrought. 

"devi maiyya tum dono ko hamesha..." may devi maiyya always.

the atheist feels the yearning in a mother's words, she invokes what she believes in the most to bless her child and him with happiness forever.

the sound layers and what the director chooses to show are interesting, like the visual layers in flashbacks... it says things about what he reacts to, how he reacts, why he does what he does. the night of 15 february, valentine's day still at ipk, when he had screamed into the night, also a carefully chosen audio file. now too.

he is extremely moved by the conversation between a mother and her daughter.

rabba ve...

she turns and shivers under her blanket.

he comes sensing something, sees her and switches off the airconditioner. a simple act... but it shows perhaps what many larger gestures and gifts wouldn't.

you can feel the love all around... too bad neither have figured it out, or it's gotten hijacked by a night.

as he lies back he has made a decision, he looks at her. he wants to hold her hand. i get palpitation even typing that... so much in the performance.

i had felt earlier that the beast lay night after night next to beauty and seemed to ask, will you marry me?

this is the man who perhaps as he had walked up to her on the verandah just outside had hoped to be the best pati one day only for her, only because she had made him want such a thing even. when he said "bas karni hai," maybe he had felt a joy he never ever had and wanted to express it with his characteristic cool sexiness, playing with her, teasing, flirting, stealing a kiss and somewhere in the middle of that they would find and take over hamesha.

in his smiles, seen very rarely, and usually because this girl who is a bit crazy has set it off, he seemed to give hint of what all fantastic dreams lay in his heart. the one that beat with hers.

arnav singh raizada is not the best pati in the world and that does hurt him.

his way of trying to deal with the conflicting demands of the situation is to go gentle on her it seems, just let her be, stop berating and bashing her, and maybe in this his heart finds a little peace, a little happiness. and so we find a suddenly more tender man that moment on.

of course, this is around the time that writers decide to assassinate their favourite girl and leave her maimed for life. sanka is a superior, fine, perfectly distilled and matured in huge vats of feeling of life and character thing.
what was unleashed on us from the moment her eyes opened was not that at all, it was a clear indication that human beings were no longer in control. aliens had taken over.

"hum bhag na jaaye iss dar sa pakadke rakha hai hume..." so that i don't run away he is holding my hand. yes, he is worried because you may get abducted by creatures with three eyes and horns, green in colour who have made off with the writers, silly.

she tries to free her hand... he wakes up startled... "khushi!" on his lips. for a second all seems normal again. i feel my heart go into tremors.

once he was up, the game started again. she must not know what he is feeling, ah the guarded one. not too trusting of people and love... she gets no answer as to why "maine band kiya!" the ac.

as he leaves he turns, music lilts... palat palat ... ddlj moments everywhere.

from my first time here in this episode, i prepare myself, okay she is going to lose it now and so will we with that "ar 36 k". ah, so many speculations on the forum, in crooner, everywhere back then. alas the writer was just playing with us and trying to please aliens.

a little detail about the man, he has bad hand writing, why does this excite me? on the other side of lunacy, mami is chasing ghosts with binocs and book... how about garlic and cross, mami ji, let's make this into twilight, what say.

thankfully, a voice to bring me back

"khushi!!"

why must every call sound so terribly sexy and like he needs her from deep inside.

"aur haan, tumhara kaam ho gaya ho toh meri diary wapis rakh dena..." and if you're done with it, please keep back my diary in its place. so terriby sweet. he knows she is messing with his stuff, but he is okay with it... progress progress..

i think that is all i can take of this episode.

one thing only really moved me... that waking up, getting up, standing at the window and pondering... then turning, assessing, taking a decision of some sort and coming back to his wife. duniya ke sabse achhe pai is not really an aspiration for him. he does what he does because this girl makes his heart race, she matters. he hurts her, loves her, craves her, berates her, wants her not for some trophy but because that is all he can do... she is part of him. he is tired of resisting and he really does not want to be a nasty terror to her... he wants to pull her dupatta and kiss her on the cheek, wants to push back her tendrils, wants to catch her in his arms and swing her high, wants to tell her something, bas karni hai, wants to hold her hand.

i was always touched by something going on at ipk that was deeper than what you saw on the screen... anyone watching diwali will feel the thick layered thing in it... it pulls at your gut, your most physical instinct, your heart, your brain, your mind, the emotional... almost the spiritual plane in you... and then goes ahead invading and entering spaces in you that i didn't even know existed.

this happened with me often while watching. the entire night scene was humming with the heard unheard whispered murmured conversations.

wrote this on my facebook page yesterday when i posted these edits.

i am aware that in still shots sometimes you can capture a moment that seems to have much more than what it does in reality. but in ipkknd as they moved about often doing pretty regular serial stuff, somehow there was always a deeper unseen level that you could feel all the time. another conversation, something that murmurs and whispers in you even when you are trying hard not to let it effect you. loved it.

“ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,

or what's a heaven for?” 
~~~ robert browning, andrea del sarto ~~~

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episode 242 of love and lies

the sweetest moment of this episode for me was when a tycoon who hates his wife, looks at her with a childlike desire in his eyes, wanting to be a part of her wildly dancing free and happy world. walks up to her awkwardly, tries to follow her steps and join her in that dancing. so willing to be a part of her world and be happy with her, a desire larger than the realities that pull him back propels him. 

he is only 27 or so but it is so easy to forget that, so easy to think he is completely in control and a much older guy just because he takes on the mantle and lives up to it. almost har baar. in this beautiful story where two people unlikely to fall in love with each other, do exactly that, once in  a way, just that love is the hero... perhaps that's what i felt about this episode.

he was sure he knew he was having an illicit affair with his beloved sister's husband. at too many levels this was not just painful, it was abhorrent. galat had no place in his life... never after what his father had done. his sister was the only human being he allowed into his heart, which lay dormant beneath an icy layer, barely beating. this girl was the only one in the whole wide world that had cracked that layer, sunshine as it were, and touched his dhadkan, making it race, becoming part of it. he had just thought he might start a life with her where there was a chance of laughter and of joy.

was arnav singh raizada really not hurting terribly inside? pragmatic, powerful, preponderant... he may be all of that, but he is also a man who loves, a man who hurts, a young man who wants a bit of happiness in his life. life has denied him so terribly that he doesn't even think he deserves such things. when your mother commits suicide on your sister's wedding day... almost without caring for what happens to her offspring, do you start feeling some crazy anger and do you perhaps start feeling guilty... that you could not stop it... we are complex beings and a myriad inexplicable emotions and urges grip us.

barun sobti's asr exuded this sense of complexity... more than what you see is who i am how i am.

khushi too had no plans to love such a man, but she did... and who could ever love someone after they treated you like that? that terrifying claustrophobic wild hungry wedding with something darkly fiery and sacred in it... who could love anyone that forced one into such a nuptials? who threatened the destruction of one's sibling's marriage. who threw one out onto cold stone floor. who accused and ranted. who never explained why he did what he did, but carried on relentless.

yet, khushi did love him.

neither could deny that love, no matter what.

in two moments of this episode that was so tenderly and terribly clear.

as he stepped up to dance with her. and as she turned away and lied to her mother.

this was no daughter allaying a mother's fears, this was a lover who wanted to guard her lover's image, he was hers, part of her ego, her self, she would not let him be viewed as unworthy in any way. had it been only to allay her mother's fears, she could have simply said she was happy, or maybe even said a few wonderful things about him, but look at the words she chooses to describe him and his feelings for her... isn't there a lot of what she wishes for from him in that? what she knows instinctively he is capable of giving?

i think true lovers have a sixth sense about each other, where they know beyond the obvious, they see potential that many can't...

both have been given a tough task... to see way beyond the obvious and feel the truth of the other. how do you perceive such things but? i guess you have to see with the eyes of the heart.

i completely agreed with the way that was ultimately shown. at this point this otherness of love and lovers is on display. in an episode that didn't thrill me often, because of execution, i still felt that love and its power.

just moments ago she has overheard a conversation, and her disturbance is justified... why this whole thing happened still plagues her... but she is not keen to negate the relationship, instead find out, who this man is.
"kaun hai yeh, shaitan yehi raajkumar yehi..."
who is this, devil he is, prince is he too.

the mystery of the man, ek insaan ke do chehre... one man and two faces.

writers choose to bring back the beast and prince allusion.
i had written about this rajkumar shaitan thing after 226 where i think it makes its first appearance, now i find i had referred to these episodes there without even realising it came up here too... so the storyteller must be telling the story well.

a little bit of what i wrote then:later she described asr to her mother as "duniya ke sabse achhe pati" the best husband in the world, attributing to him several rajkumar qualities... which no doubt he had. but again the beauty of it was that it wasn't true yet... and still she loved him... her own shaitan.

"hum inhen kabhi samajh hi nahin paayenge."
i will never be able to understand him.
"ek pal mein itna pyaar... aur doosre pal mein inse itna dar lagta hai..."
one moment so much love and the very next i am so afraid of him.
"yeh aise kyun hain?"
why is he like this?
"hume pata karna hi hoga..."
i must find out.

he is too much a part of her to deny him, break the tie. this i guess is love. this is essential connection.

she is now determined to find out why the rushed wedding had to happen, there must be a reason. every time she sees this man doing something decent, reasonable, positive, she lets her heart fill with hope and with renewed vigour chases the reason for that horridness. love this attitude in a girl especially, given the passive role women are encouraged to play in our world... gah, i never thought growing up i would start talking like a women's libber, but this world doesn't give me an option, hello hi bye bye.

going back to the dance:

"no, i... don't dance..."

aww. shy guy.

cute standing around looking out of place in formal suit and perennial aloofness among dancers. cutest moment, slowly walking up to khushi and starting to somehow get in step with her, join in, like a kid i repeat gleefully.

and he has actually overcome that insane anger... in any person i would love such a moment. bua ji is the first to notice and is totally floored, she and garima have sensed all is not well with babua.

jerky stiff movements, my mama would have said "oont ki chaal," the gait of a camel. she sees him and is astonished. he is almost imploring her to help him out here.

bua ji is ecstatic, both she and garima are so relieved.

asr inept in a situation... something awfully sexy about it.

rabba vey as she sees him dancing by her... then someone pushes him and he  stumbles, gets nudged closer to her...

and like holi, together they stand... this time also he had walked up to her mesmerised, but now minus bhang...

  
that endless searching look again... what is it? i don't know. why can't i be in my senses around you? why can't i? do you... need me? do i need anything else? tell me it is for hamesha... hamesha is what i have every time i have you.

there is no shyness, no awkwardness, fluent full dialogues their eyes do deliver...

then he has to remember shyam again and walk away...

leaving her bewildered.
a glimpse of the opening sequence:

"i really like her...," said the bridegroom of his bride to be. earlier inside khushi had asked the uncle or aunt if there was any "kami" in preeto. i wonder why we are so unmindful of our own self respect. why is the girl's personality, her abilities always the topic of discussion. instead of asking people to shut up and not be obnoxious why must we actually go and ask is there something wrong with us that they behave so badly. if this is our culture, time to change it.

asr speaks reasonably and not nobly or culturally correctly or anything. an out there character he deals with life looking at it straight and real and not fudging his mind with a thousand cluttering thoughts. which is why that airconditioner as solution, and now a straight and simple question...

"phir bhi tum chup ho!" even then you are quiet. brusque harsh truth.

loved this dialogue for its freshness and unfloweriness, remembered salim javed. "tumhare gharwale 1960s ke in laws ke tarah ghatia aur stereotypical demands kar rahe hain..."

your family members are speaking like in laws from 1960s films and making third rate demands...

"ghatia" seems to be damad ji's favourite epithet.

"tumhari apni marzi ka koi matlab nahin hai kya..." doesn't your own will have any meaning?

we need to hear this. to be collaborative, part of a whole, even "good" if you will, one need not not respect one's own self, one's own desires and wishes. i always loved asr's "main." he was no merged and part of an amorphous "hum." khushi and all girls in hindi serials are always "hum," worth a ponder why... why they can't be the more assertive, steady, "main."

but this entire piece didn't quite speak to me, saved by barun and asr's exciting energy and sense of claiming.

the best husband in the world:

i wish the sequence had a little less of the tearjerker element. i liked the fact that khushi said specific things about him... painting pictures, as though she had thought them many times in her mind.

garima says it so beautifully that very drama dialogue about what will i tell your mother when i meet her.

"hamari amma toh aap hai.. aapko kissiko bhi koi jawab dene ki zaroorat nahin..." you are my mother, you don't have to answer to anyone anywhere, comes khushi's response. i liked her saying that in that most khushi way. her love for this adoptive family of hers is complete and resolutely unselfish. it is beautiful.

he watches them and is shredding within... "haan, amma, arnav ji iss duniya ke sabse achhi pati hai," yes, amma, arnav ji is the best husband in the world.

he leaves. maybe because he is somewhere the best husband in the world.

sleep eludes him... a man with conscience suffers, his beloved's voice is in his mind, murmuring in him.

"arnav ji apno ka bahut khayal rakhte hain... aur doosron ki madat karte hain... jab hi hum aap sab ke baare mein sochkar thode dukhi hotey hain... toh aapko pata hai woh kitne pareshan ho jaate hain?... phir hamare chehre pe muskurahat laane ki jee tod koshi karenge..."

all the lies she tells, all that he really wanted to do for her.

"hum bahut khush hain.. ki tumhe itna accha pati mile..." i am very happy that you got such a good husband, says amma.

"haan, amma... arnav ji iss duniya ke..." yes, amma, arnav ji is this world's. and he is up, breath ragged...

turns to look at her, she sleeps... the ultimate innocent, his heartbeat  tripper, with whom his breath is one... yet this is what it has come to, a look of such keen guilt, what have i done to you...

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preeto and a wedding episodes
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episode 241 wedding night blues

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

credit: uploader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he is about to retaliate and the drums start.

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

she thinks it's the questions.

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

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

"leave me alone."

but she won't.

aggression sparks aggression.

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

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

this time, he was going to tell her though.

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

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

and someone knocks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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episode 239 the bride wore pink

it's a wedding again. only a month after a night of "haan ya na" and a dulhan who had no idea she was.

i can't help but think of that night, and despite all the jollity all around, the unstoppable mirth, i think of a man who became bridegroom and took a bride amid only tears and chaos. yes, weddings always mean a bit of chaos, but not the sort they saw within themselves and around them that night.

two dialogues got repeated too many times not to mean a thing... this is ipk, writers are clever with forming loops and echoes and reflections with the spoken word, to magnify a feeling, to nudge a memory, to create depth and texture.

so when there was that repetition of his "haan" changing everything, i had a feeling it was somewhere to remind us of that other night. when her "naa" couldn't change anything. she had no choice or he made sure she thought so that night. a tragic, intensely sad moment. but there was something sacred in what was to come.

on the flip side of that is today's "haan" where he had a choice but didn't know, and she made sure he didn't. a fairly comic, extremely lighthearted moment... and yet, was there to be a sacred moment soon? i couldn't see any sign of it anywhere in the din and rush of carrying carpets, fixing speakers, organising pandal, and avoiding rushing pesky kids... wedding milieu, wild wonderful and setting my teeth a bit on edge.

the other word was "dulhan", every time it was said, just after i had giggled, i'd remember a beautiful bride. was i to see her as dulhan again soon?

 
when you see a thing repeatedly, finally you might end up seeing something quite different from what you saw the first time. and this episode on this watch, brought me to a sacred moment on a rickety ladder.

i thought i saw a beautiful suhag raat in broad daylight, with all its longing, its nasha, its jadoo, its lifting of a veil, its looking into each others eyes, its palpitating heart stopping moments and its flowers.

now i might be completely imagining this and if anyone from ipk read this they'd probably be rolling on the floor laughing, but i saw what i saw teehee.

a comic air, errors galore, constant activity, great blocking... things were going along in a happy frolicking pace. khushi sang about the season to bug the laad governor, bua ji and asr got into lovely little conversations and both abha parmar and barun sobti were very good together. but i missed my asr... this pulverizing of the waistcoat man is frankly just plain tiresome for me.

he came out... stood on the steps, i remembered him standing just there a little over a month ago, so happy, in brown suit, come to see his girl... to floor her.

perfect stranger walked up to him and asked in a familiar manner if he were free. long thinking look, then a "nahin", oh barun did never quite let asr go, did he.

finally he figured out that he has been taken for a ride by his dear loving caring sharing in everyone's sadness wife.

"oh no no!" said the man.

"oh no? koi taqleef hai ka, babua..." is there a problem, shot back his jodi for the episode, bua ji.

a relationship has been made, and whatever we may say, the boy is well brought up, knows what is in good taste and what is not, plus after the initial faux pas he is very circumspect.

"oh no..." emphatic and hot, "koi taqleef nahin hai, bua ji." an abs sweetheart, this tycoon.

but to himself, "yeh kahan fas gaya mein" what have i got stuck in, ugh.

happy khushi came bounding out with spatula held aloft of , sanka at a high.

she asked him to move from where he stood.

"kyun?" came the brusque reply.

next thing, the speaker had got him, he almost passed out.

"haw aapke kaan toh bilkul tamatar ke tarah laal ho gaye hain..." ha, your ears have gone as red as a tomato, she said with an innocent sweet look. she had taken her revenge for the rudolph the red nose comment that morning.

why do i get the feeling he likes this sparring, it excites him... someone not scared of him, not kowtowing, and someone so pretty too... there's spice and myrrh in the air suddenly among all the pink and chaos.

pink again. the other night the mosquito net. way back a dupatta falling over an astonished girl's head. all moments of murmurous attraction, things not said because perhaps there is no need to.

"arre, aur phool chahiye..." we need more flowers said the bride's mother and made way for that moment i think of as sacred.

a beautiful silent act of love, just a ladder, a girl and a boy who wants to be with her. and that gust of wind on a pink dupatta.

she rushed to get the flowers which are at a height, but he is instantly alert, "khushi! khushi wait..." always protective of her... no matter whether it's mohabbat or nafrat.

she's up, reaching for flowers, he arrived, concerned at the sight of wobbling step ladder.

"khushi, chadne se pahle sidi ki position check kar leti!" his rough admonishing hid that care he feels.

"neeche aao!" come down, he hollered in full asr mien. bet she felt all sorts of sensations when he talked like that. there's some sort of indelible love in that possessive angry way. like he has a right over her.

"aa rahe hain," i'm coming she said with an irritated most wife like, there goes my husband again sort of way, and she turned... he watched most concerned.

and a gust of wind came to blow a dupatta. wind, dupatta, something was about to happen.

she got more and more flummoxed by flying dupatta. the wind stayed and played.

"hume kuchh dikh nahin raha!" i can't see a thing, she said panicking as the dupatta covered her eyes and head.

"khushi, stop it!" he yelled. and began to climb up the ladder, to reach her.

not a word, no music, just wind gushing steady, urgent, as he went nearer and she waited in pink veil... she looked through the veil and suddenly it all changed... notes of rabba vey entered. the whole world ceased to be, it's just you and me, here on a space between heaven and earth, why do i feel what i feel, and you? what is it that you feel? i can't stop looking at you or wanting to be near.

he stood on a rung a little below her looking at her entranced...

a long time ago he had seen this very face through another pink veil when he didn't believe in love, when he had only anger and disbelief in such matters... but he had been struck even then...

today it's this girl he is mad about and no matter how angry or hurt, something reaches him the moment she is near...

she stared at him through the veil and her eyes sought things that her conscious mind said she will not.

he was rapt... just looking at her was all he seemed to be capable of suddenly.

slowly he took the veil down to reveal her face... a suhaag raat ritual. the way he held the veil and pulled it down to reveal her face, there was that sense of an important act. something much more than the literal meaning.

if there was a rapt mesmerised feel to the way he looked at her, in her eyes a funny sort of hunger for a second. a need.

she was embarrassed, he was just there gazing at her, to be with her is all he seeks, she lurched forward, he caught her. oh the heat of that coming together, even in a long shot there is desire everywhere.

as she averted her eyes there was suddenly a flicker of urgency, a question in his.

then the moment was over.

he let go of her shoulder. "tum neeche jao..." go down, he commanded.

"uh hamare phool?" but my flowers?

"phool main le aaonga!" i'll get the flowers, divine yelling and taking charge...

and then it happened.

she lost balance, and it all came tumbling down.

that falling felt significant. symbolic. together they are constantly in a plunge, falling ever deeper into an emotion, holding on to each other never letting go, who knows where it is taking them.

on the floor scattered with petals of marigold, together they lay, winded and then feeling things.

hey hey... heyheyhey.

as they tried to sit up the petals showered down. the brats had tipped the flower basket (okay, this bit was shot pretty badly, the gravity defying basket almost snatched my attention away from the magic unfolding).

he just lay there watching. in no hurry... i loved that look on his face, he has taken the veil off his bride's face, he has seen her, he is enamoured, now he will lie with her and revel in her. not suhaag raat? i loved this entire bit of episode, the pace, the colours, the emotions, the sheer scorch.

she realised and was too smitten herself to do much about things.

marigold petals all over, yellow, orange, in the colours of the sun, spiritually significant and always at weddings and auspicious occasions, a certain sensuality to soft, plush petals. finally the entire tokri fell.

"phool toh.." she smiled.

"i know..." he agreed. they almost sounded like friends... or lovers, a bit shy, a bit lost.

rabba vey. she started to smile.

and he smiled back at her. it was perhaps their first uncomplicated, warm and private smile looking at each other with nothing but pleasure and love. yes, just that... love. was she dulhan for a moment there? and did he again give a "haan?" this time not without knowing what he said yes to.

soon we were rushing to generator and khushi had again taken umbrage at his arrogant little i am arnav singh raizada and started plotting. i thought he wanted her to succeed at fixing the machine. the advance retreat of asr khushi was a delight after such a long gap. he flicked her cheek, she was miffed. he sat next to salman with cotton in his ears looking a dish. he was devastatingly rude to the little boy with his "i don't care." the boy spilled the beans, the busy businessman plays games on his laptop... er asr, did i hear right? this must be new if that is the case... your pagal biwi is having an effect on you.  anyway now he is going to be mechanic. oh h where is his waistcoat?

shyam stole the will... could have been a great track but alas.








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preeto and a wedding episodes
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