episode 32 silence speaks

sometimes silence speaks more, much more than words. even though the words seem potent, loaded with meaning, they still don't quite achieve what some silences do. there were a lot of those silences in episode 32. khushi's wondering, slightly disturbed look as she clutched her jiji close. what was that? hadn't she just said, "jiji, girti hui imarat samhal li, kuch bhi samhal loongi"? i have managed a falling edifice, i'll manage anything.
    

               
"does not everything depend on our interpretation of the silence around us?"
~~~ lawrence durrell ~~~
 
or the one up there, where he looks into a story we can't see but we can feel his anguish about it, as though he doesn't want to listen. something to do with his mama and papa, he almost flinches at the words when di says she wished they were there for she can't handle all the anger flaring around anymore. his face hardens in an instant and his fist closes in a tight knot. the pain hits hard.

yet when he whips around to give his sister a harsh answer, he sees her face, its sadness and worry, he melts. a whole love story was written in just those swiftly changing expressions. i wish i could capture all of them and include here. his hands came and grasped hers tenderly, and he said the words just in case we hadn't understood, but we knew that all along, didn't we? "aap sab kuch ho, di. main aapki aankhon mein aansoon nahi dekh sakta." you are everything, di. i can't see tears i your eyes.

he will fight the whole world to bring back her happiness. (little does he know he will have to fight the most precious thing he's ever had to do just that.) she will make his kind of food to make him feel better. she knows he's feeling bad about too many things. what happened to khushi, what's happening with nani, their parents, everything, all she wants to do is make it ok for him. some soup might help? 

siblings love in funny unspoken ways, even when they are rivals, even when they aren't always good to each other. ipk had a particularly keen understanding of this. which is why, when anjali started to lie to chhotey i'd thought we'd see something very interesting. it could have been that. a glimpse of it in the miscarriage scene, where she finally believes as she looks into the eyes of her brother standing outside. again, silence.

a beautifully crafted episode that seemed to me to be about name, identity, pehchaan, and an awareness that is refusing to go, in fact making quite a place for itself. from bua ji's "wah nand kissore," to mami ji's warning of "cantrobhersial" food, everything felt smooth and was intensely expressive, almost as much as barun's face.

payal was picking up the unspoken cues of worry and uncertainly from khushi and reflecting it back. she was happy with khushi's decision to resign, but still... if only they hadn't come to delhi. khushi counters without thinking, "nahin, jiji, dilli itni bhi buri nahin hai, matlab agar hum dilli nahin aate toh... toh..." no, jiji, delhi isn't that bad either, if we hadn't come here, then... toh ham arnav ji se kaise miltey? then how would we have met arnav ji? is that what her heart wanted to say? we'll never know.

he'd had a bad night, then all that talk about marriage with nani, and her little pull a bride out of a hat trick, he strode into office in a foul mood. how a man can change the whole energy of a place by simply walking through it, i will never understand. the grim walk in with inert eyes, reminiscent of the mazar entry, and the long steps carrying him out with a simple pause at the sight of dm, said more than most things he said today. especially about that awareness. it intruded even when he was rushing to see his di who had fainted. how much of a statement is that?

as if that were not enough:
 
"usska ek naam hai!" 

she has a name.

just the day before he had used her name for the first time. once in reference, but twice directly, calling out to her, hoping she was there, alive, unhurt. then that wondering, "khushi..." as she let go on him. and today, he wanted her to be given the respect of being called by her name. why? he didn't care after all. all he wanted was for her to lose and go away. mera naam hai arnav singh raizada. my name is arnav singh raizada. the boy who'd rejected his father's name and taken his mother's proudly, knew the importance of a name. that it was identity. you mess with it, you are messing with the person's being. today he can't tolerate this disrespect for her.

somehow he was sensitized to her now. she mattered. maybe he was still worried about her. when he hears the giggling trio, something snaps in him. he lashes out. and lavanya's unthinking chamkili just pushes him over the edge. he gives pam and sim this appraising look when he walks in. did he see the completely opposite kkg in his mind as he looked at them? did he feel a little tired of this thick shallowness?

she walked in all prepared to resign. and just inside the ar door, she stopped. her hands tightened on the strap of her bag. she's tense, she's gathering her will and courage. in her eyes, something more again. then she remembers. one of the most timeless moments in ipk. he is reaching out, holding her hand, pulling her up and rushing out, he's turning back to look at her. oh just hold it there. what's in his eyes. she's succumbing... he's looking at her, jaw clenched. the memories bring involuntary words to her lips,"devi maiyya raksha karna." devi maiyya, save me. of course, just then he stops in his tracks to look at dm sitting pretty on her desk. a long pause, he is obviously thinking of her. they miss each other, never making contact. yet a funny communication, a connection through devi maiyya just now.

"we know what we are, but not what we may be."
~~~ william shakespeare ~~~
 
pehchaan is one of the main motifs of ipk. to be who you are, to know who you are, to discover yourself. an individualistic slant in all its characters. as iconoclastic as its main protagonist, ipk sought to break stereotypes, and make us look into the heart of things. the makers were trying to communicate something they considered important. which is why maybe we were often presented with a character in a certain way, only to find later they were not at all as we'd imagined them to be. there was the issue of well rounded, lifelike characters, but also the element of "revelation" of each one. who would have thought, mami was capable of so much love and loyalty.

or la, just look at her. did we ever think she would become one of the most memorable characters of ipk, a character like her has perhaps never been seen in indian tv or films.

this what you see is not what you get, i felt was always more than just clever writing. it was very much driven by content and core thought. someone was urging us to look beyond the surface. and what's more, was treating us like intelligent people, who could figure things out. which is why maybe all those carefully crafted silences, and beautiful expressions and body language, and other signs and symbols.

reflections. for days we've seen them, on windows, mirrors, water. now a clear look at image, it's meaning, and the need to see oneself clearly.

"lucknow se hain, iss liye darke bhage nahin...
balki khud batane aaye hain ki yeh naukri humare layak nahin...humaari parvarish toh aisi hai..
humey sikhaya gaya hai ki sahi kaam karo...
aur poore atma sanman ke saath karo..."


i am from lucknow, i don't get scared and run away...
instead i have come to tell you, this job is not suitable for me...
my upbringing is such, i have been taught to do what is right...
and do it with complete self respect.

so just like him, she has been taught the value of being and doing "sahi." his life has been stricken by "galat," and that's one thing he just doesn't want to be: galat. wrong.
 
"rehne dijiya, aapko batane ki koi faida nahin...atma sanman toh unka hota hai, jinki khudki koi pehchaan ho...aur aapka toh poora din inki nakal karne mein nikal jaata hai..."

let it be, no point in telling you...
self respect only those have who have their own identity...
and your entire day goes trying to imitate her...

she retorts when sim cuts in, 

"hum khud ko kuch nahin samajh rahe,
kyonki hum jaante hain ki hum kaun hain...aur hum jo bhi hain usse khush hain...par aap kabhi aine mein dekhkar khud se poochiye,
ki aap khud ko pehchanti hain bhi ya nahin...agar khud ko pehchan pati, yeh locket chhupakar nahin rakhti...aapke dil me jo hai usse chehre par laake dekhiye..."

i am not thinking myself to be anything, because i know who i am...
and whatever i am, i am happy with that.
but look in the mirror sometime and ask yourself,
whether you know yourself or not...
if you could recognise yourself, you wouldn't have hidden this locket...
what you are at heart, let it show... and see...

a brilliant set of terse lines that reflect her intense anger and personality, her belief in herself. in many ways she is the mirror image of the man she calls rakshas. and today, she is so riled by all the injustice that's come her way, she's calling off the game, and reasserting herself. khushi's journey of self discovery is as potent as asr's. this episode was telling in so many ways.

now we await the "cantrobhersial" thing. and please, may i have two nurses too, i faintiya gayi every time a certain someone walks in or out.

g.u.e.s.t.h.o.u.s.e.  e.p.i.s.o.d.e.s

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episode rambles

fan fiction

that girl with the mojri

ridiculous to miss a serial so much, yet i just do. too long without this high.

she was lovely (we were chatting about khushi on the thread). i resisted watching ipk for months because i did not, could not believe a hindi serial could have anything of real excitement in it... i was not being a snob, till then no serial of these days had really appealed even those with decent stories.

i used to lie on my bed with my back to the tv while things carried on giving me a sense of india... i needed that after many years away... 

also i was resisting barun.

as hard as i could.

huh some silly boy, so what i get that funny feeling every time i see him... something about him says my mind... but really he's just a useless serial hero... who does he think he is... as you can tell maine bahut koshish ki...

i remember one afternoon i turned around and there on the screen was this crazy looking girl with tight choti, tight weird pompom infested churidar, bizarre colours, and mojri and jhola, talking 3456734 to the dozen, and i said uff another ridiculous serial heroine, how crazy looking is she, what's with the costume...

but i kept watching.

she was such a delight.

naturally truly strange. a real girl, with all sorts of thoughts and things, and a different turn of phrase, view of life.
in fact, in 80, just before the hot arm twisting, her speech on marriage... never have i ever heard such a beautiful defence of marriage, such a real heartfelt understanding... sanaya took her dialogues and made them real feelings of a young girl with innocence, strength, genuine cookiness, lots of guts and plenty happy jhalli. a character who became a person with her.

the loss of this girl hurts. yes the make up is heavier... an accent on prettifying... such a reducing of a genuinely funky person, her light lipstick, her tiny jhumkas matching, her teda choti, her khushi from within, as pagal par cute as her aankhen her baal, her (imagine break in voice) smile. above all, her mind and its crazy connections, its gentle sweet faith in life, its light flowing touch that healed, its refusal to take it lying down, so ingrained that when it showed it felt normal, not like some writers had written her character.

(the other day, my husband noticed a scene from another serial by chance while i surfed, he said, oh they are trying to make her do a khushi... this is a man who did not watch ipk... just a few early episodes and yes the august 1 fight.)
post the decision to marry again, the look went even more strange. her dialogues became duller, she had true sanka, not shrill voiced ott, who forgot that?

but we shall always have the khushi we love right up to the wedding... dm is much thanked for that.

n i s h a n a   e p i s o d e s
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episode rambles

fan fiction

do you believe in kismet?

there was a bit of kismet in it.


i don't follow serials, hindi or english or in any other language. television is not my thing. catch some friends or csi or ncis once in a way. don't mind a little monk, 30 rock, frasier, or jon stewart now and then. won't lie, did watch the bold and the beautiful and santa barbara over a glass of bad bosca wine every evening for many months when cable first came to india in the mid nineties. and of course, loved star trek, hawaii 5-0, and family ties as a kid. i have never been hooked though, not on the serials i mentioned, not even jon hamm in mad men can get me to check schedules and be there, hah, i am that tv proof.


but after many years away from india, surrounded by cool calm green and peace and quiet, i started to miss colour, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. so the tv would be switched on the moment i got back home and i would carry on with my life while red, orange, blue, mithai pink, chutney green, big bindis, long mangal sutras, hideous saris, parivars and paramparas, bahus and saases, vamps who had a yen for english, characters that died and returned, all carried on merrily. always, but always, in the background. i rarely paid them any attention.

once in a while i watched, then admonished myself for being so idiotic and stopped. till one day, i heard "nafrat paas aaney na de, mohabbat door jaane na de." i turned around, saw a well dressed man and a very thin girl. it was a promo, seemed interesting. then i thought, forget it, they're going to ruin it anyway.

therefore, i was not there on the sixth of june last year.


one afternoon, sometime in oct/nov 2011, no idea which episode, i happened to look at the television. and just couldn't look away. a gorgeous young man... but hold it, i've seen him before, in shraddha, in baat hamari, yeah looked kind of nice, there was something about him, but like this? never. oh what's happening to me? so drop dead gorgeous, who is he? and is that delhi. delhi!

i was born in new delhi, spent lots of childhood there, with a fabulous nani, nana, mamas and mamis. in fact, class 7 to 11 went to school there and stayed with my grandparents three of those years. then ran away for college to calcutta. why? because i feared none of those good looking delhi boys would ever look at me.

honest. that was the reason. no intellectual bong here, sorry.
and now one of those guys was looking straight at me from that stupid screen. full circle, i was 50 and a bit, yet could feel the familiar urge to bolt. but this time i decided to stay.
my extreme knowledge of mills and b gathered from age 12 to 17, told me i was looking at an arms akimbo man. but it was the tadka of dilli that had me still, unmoving. english with a delhi accent, i mean please may i die. "d'you understand?!!" ohhh.

(i also found that he and his wife married around the same age as my husband and i did; his intensity of feelings for her, well i have been there too and am still there; struggled to be financially ok, us too; seven years in the same not too inspiring job because it was important to earn, like that. insists his name be spelt right. walking away became more and more impossible.)


barun sobti was not the first choice for arnav singh raizada. yet there he is. could anyone else have ever been asr, or arnav, even chhotey? and yet, he wasn't the first choice. a bit of a compromise, i get the feeling. remember hearing lalit mohan say that mr sobti had the eyes for the role. what would lm know about the jaw line, the widow's peak, the flowing limbs, the long neck, the crazy lips, the pop out irresistible ears, the down on the back of the wrist that shimmers in the light, the collar bones. but thank everything, someone sensed the potential of this man's hitherto untried acting ability. someone saw arnav singh raizada in him.


sanaya irani had often heard that she would never be able to do a typical indian girl's role. she said, getting gunjan gave her a sense of real achievement. but just imagine the genius of the person who decided that our small town, lower middle class, hindi speaking desi girl with the tedha choti should be portrayed by this big city, upper middle class, english educated, sophisticated young woman of rather videshi complexion. the contrast works like a dream. it makes khushi yours, mine, ours; whether you're from small or big city, desh or videsh, young or old. sanaya was told by nissar parvez (i think) that everyone knows her as gunjan, but after this, people should only remember her as khushi. what a fantastic one line brief. and how utterly successful ms irani has been in meeting it. a girl who'd never get a role as a typical indian girl.


iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? was pitched for star one. but kismet would have none of that. and so it was that number crunching, trp and target audience oriented channel went with a gut feel (i'm sure they backed all decisions with many so called facts and computations, and tender parts of anatomy were duly covered) and decided ipkknd ought to go to star plus. (mwah mwah to whoever was the executive.)


i used to be (just corrected the "am" i'd instinctively written) the last person to want to talk endlessly about a serial, and that too on some social networking (gak what a word) site. deleted my facebook account some time ago. i heard about india forums on the noreen khan interview, as by now i had got the bug badly enough to look for the actors and the show everywhere. sbs, sbb, what were these things! a whole new world out there. anyway went and signed up at india f.

soon after that i realised that my favourite niece (tennismaniac19, i think she calls herself, writes lovely stories) was as lovestruck as i. and while we gushed together and i mentioned the forum, she said i should check out crooner.

led to you girls, i was. by a nineteen year old. that's cool, since i'm about 15.

and here we are, priya. in your wonderful thread. talking, chatting, giggling, singing, getting closer, becoming important in each other's day. i read many of all your posts. there were bits of me in there too.


many instances of  this play of fate i will never know. like how did they decide upon lakshmi ji, a pet goat! or the posse of prakashes that keeps rm going. or how did such a perfect team of actors who not only act well but gel with each other come together. or that unbelievably beautiful strain of "rabba vey", how could a little known music director come up with it. and what wonderful improvisations and extensions on the theme. old rabba vey, sad rabba vey, new rabba vey, why am i smiling.


here's thanking each one at iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? and all of you in the crooner. and a very very happy anniversary to all.


my sleeping patterns are ruined (episode airs at 12 mn), my friends are worried about my mind, but the man i've been married to for 26 years patiently asks me every day, so what happened last night? then gives me my fifteen minutes on my favourite topic.

more than anything, even more than my crush on a 27 year old boy, or maybe through that feeling precisely, iss pyaar ko has led me right back to a most important thing in life: love and the expression of it through romance.

i flirt with my husband for no reason again. despite my age and weight. and there's a certain lightness to love that i haven't felt in years.


this morning he said over the phone: mami ji is a bit like aunty s. i said: no, a mix of aunty s and aunty h.


iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? was indeed a gift from kismet.

wrote this for crooner's anniversary in 2012... many memories of that chatty, funny, intelligent, insightful, snarky thread. 

n i s h a n a   e p i s o d e s
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episode rambles

fan fiction

anyone missing jeth ji?

here are all the teri meri prem kahani episodes (161 to 171) and the takes, the gifs, the edits, vm, and the dhakdhaks.

poor jeth ji.

i am laughing lunatically by now. wonder how payaliya kept her calm around jeth ji. tough girl. superhuman, in fact.

 

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the teri meri prem kahani episodes

episode rambles

fanfiction

did khushi ji always long to pinch jeth ji's cheeks? just like bua ji liked to pinch nand kissore's? to find out we must keep watching intently, every now and then, and again and again.






 

episode 191 this night onward

sometimes the rajkumar doesn't come on a horse, he comes on a rage and he yanks you to himself and and he hurts you beyond belief for he loves you beyond faith.

the ethereal lightness of love didn't even last a day before the darkest night came. two people both utterly helpless... he had no way out he believed, she didn't even know if there would ever be a way. from here starts a journey that will show us what human beings can be made of; if they didn't come here, maybe we'd have never known them for all that they are. i will never forget khushi in the next episode crying sitting on the floor, then getting up and slowly making her way to her room... her new home. getting up to face the life that had been forced upon her and no one to hear her heart shatter, see her world go awry. incredible strength. that slow getting up and walking... doing life, no matter what. this was a very special woman. and he? what a terrible error of judgment. yet i couldn't blame him. just hope he'd find his way back to her and himself one day. he loved too much, that perhaps was his folly.

just as asr never gave khushi a chance to think, ask, react, the creators of ipk too gave us none. they stopped us in our track, we were smiling and in fuzzy romantic mood, bemused by the man and woman falling in love, totally unprepared for what came next. suddenly we were being dragged shocked into a wild violent wedding while the night wailed and bells tolled and the wind screamed. and our hearts quaked, pounded, slammed against its beat.

i absolutely love the execution of this terrifying wedding they had devised. no preamble, no ponder, no shots of asr planning his move and talking about things in his head as serials are prone to show. straight into it... peechhe se shuru karte hain, they seemed to say, let's start from the back. so we saw the wedded couple first. then the proposal... well the coercion and blackmail. and now in two flashbacks the two essential acts that conjures marriage in the mind instantly... the putting of mangalsutra around the bride's neck by her bride groom... and then the sindoor that only a husband is allowed to put on the parting of his wife's hair.

but what perhaps always signals terror and excitement and the feeling of so it begins in me, is the holding of the hand of a woman staring silently at a man yet asking so many questions with her eyes, he pulls her out of a car, and without bothering to give single explanation, drags her behind him... up the wide shallow steps of a temple... it's night, nothing is too clearly visible and the music has an ominous ring. an inevitability spells the scene and leaves me shaken. whoever designed these scenes was working at a level of extreme concentration, story paramount, artistic flair at peak. in a low budget serial, which will be watched on not too big screens with resolutions of various levels, to create this power and pull... astounding.

up up up they go. the cuts are sharp, top shot, he pulls her, her lehenga and dupatta fly. cut to a shot from the side... up they climb.

cut to a shot from the back and fire rages before us at the top of the stairs. now we are behind the fire and the man and woman walk up. he keeps walking.

at rm, he looked at his weeping sister and tried to say something... you always wanted me to get married...

toh kar li.
baat khatam.

so i did it. end of story.

while everyone... perturbed, upset, even angry... asked again and again why they had done what they had, a silent man and a woman with no words stood there. what a situation. everything blowing to bits.

he really hadn't factored all this in had he. so much of a knee jerk reaction that was, that pulling khushi to him. he thought he was doing it all for his sister's safety, that's how he saw it. did he ever ask himself why he had to marry khushi for that? or this contract so called marriage for that matter. and why he actually bothered to get a mangalsutra and sindoor organised? he had no idea really what he was doing... and he also was so terribly wrenched by the sight of his beloved in shyam's arms, he was not quite himself all through. had he been, he'd have known that appearing like that before all suddenly marred would create chaos and akash's wedding night would get badly affected., had he been thinking cogently, he'd never let that happen.

the way he looked at shyam, wasn't this more a man's staking of his claim, taking what he considers to be his and letting the other guy know, hands off. she's mine.

bit a of a man's game there... she the unfortunate victim. and yet she the adored. the indispensable. he couldn't just threaten her and banish her as he had the day of the guest house. he had to adhere her to him and plunge into the abyss with her.

that struggle to somehow placate di not being able to look at her... too much too many things are there in these moments, his love for two women terrifyingly intertwined. "tumhe vajah bata ne hi hogi, chhotey," you have to tell me why, says anjali.

a face turned away, clenching of jaw.

"kaha na di, aapne kaha tha kar lo.. so kar li..." told you, you said marry, so i did. he was not in control of emotions, breaking down yet he's the karta, the man in charge... as he decided way back.

and yet today, he ran way. literally ran into his room to avoid his sister. and cried. i am sorry, di, par koi aur rasta nahin tha. i am sorry but there was no other way.

yes, if you loved khushi and thought she was a whore and yet felt you couldn't be without her, perhaps there was no other way. it will never be possible to fully comprehend or justify his action. which is why such depth and power in all of this maybe. and months later, she will perhaps give him the same bludgeoning pain when she'll call this whole thing not a marriage but a sauda, a transaction... something that can be ended. 

he spoke to no one... neither khushi... nor di. a 27 year old man who had decided to do everything to set a crashed world right, took a decision all by himself, without realising the lie that brought it about nor the flaw in his choice.

he escaped, but khushi would not be spared... nani ji held her and demanded an answer. everyone badgered the girl. she who had no idea that the man she loved had been standing at the terrace door, had seen her with shyam. one day she had stood there and seen shyam for what he was, tonight asr had seen her for what she wasn't. life.

it was awful to see khushi cry like that, losing all she knows to be right and real shaken, helpless. the questions kept coming. you know the significance of this mangalsutra, don't you?

and the first flashback.

a silent night, an suv glides into frame. screech of tyres as it brakes.
 
inside sit two people. one incandescent, the other darkly ablaze.

creatives used to speak of how sanaya and barun seemed to be pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly. that quality, that vibe, set the night alight. great story telling techniques were employed, but that yin and yang thing in them, the almost flowing into each other, tonight they were such a gorgeous contrast, finely balanced. it just made the wedding scenes explosive.

no one plans to have a wedding like this. yet there was a terrifying grandeur in it, like that of a volcano erupting or a mighty waterfall, or high rushing waves, something elemental, that seemed to sweep all resistance aside and my heart said, yes, they are man and wife.

he kept walking with her till they reached the deity. then a waiting. maybe something could be changed.. her look screamed don't do this.. his face was set and his eyes burned with an emotion, a determination in him, there will be no change... her gaze kept asking him to stop the nightmare.

then he turned and walked toward the deity... om swasti na... mantras began their chant. we cut to a long shot and saw him walk back to her. she waited tense but ramrod straight, not wilting... vis a vis.

with the goddess behind them, fire before them... agni and narayan as sakhsi, as witness, a mangalsutra was lifted, held and put around a neck, a job done... ommm.

a melody escaped a flute and picked the pathos and tears and perhaps ecstasy and annihilation of the moment.

the flames leaped and grew thick... a shattered man looked at a woman he wanted to hurt badly. visual rhetoric of fire continued, it wrapped around their shots in slow dissolves. it would ravage all and purify at the same time. the chanting faded, a conch shell blew, music crescendoed... they stood before each other... changing, no longer who they were before this moment. changed forever.

the second flashback:

they stood there staring at each other... both helpless though one seemed not to be. the mantras chanted. camera circled them, as though that had to be done, like pheras, auspicious.. he held up his hand, a pinch of red... blood, i thought.

yeh sab cheezein tumhare liye bahut maine rakhti hai.. yeh mangal sutra, yeh sindoor... toh yeh raha mangal sutra (loved barun's pronunciation, that sutr-).

in one harsh movement he pushed aside her teeka, bared her parting and streaked it with his vermilion. ownership.

aur yeh raha sindoor.

these things mean something to you, so here's the mangalsutra and here's the sindoor. he doesn't believe in them, yet he includes them in the night... why? why not simply coerce her into living with him and just put on the signs of marriage herself.

there was something cat like in his glance. an alertness, a pounce.

her eyes lifted slowly, she knew what these two things had done to her life... and that their mark was indelible.

ab tum meri patni ho. now you are my wife.

he said again as if to convince himself as much as her that this is only for six months, that she was his wife in the eyes of the world, that he would never give her the place of a wife.

the music lifted, she turned once to look at dm. then she wept while he gazed at her not raving any more, an unguarded moment. angry, betrayed, said his eyes.

the wedding was done. we'll never see the complete wedding, and i'll always wonder about the moments unseen. in offscreen segments we saw how small the actual sets were, how ramshackle everything around it. yet their was a magnificence in every frame. those swaying bells, the curtains, the sounds, the colours, a ravaging everywhere.

by the end of the episode, khushi is all by herself, pushed aside by her family, and that old pain, the unbearable one of not belonging, not being "sagi", their own had returned.

though we think it only happens in serials, things just as challenging happen in life too. yet we overcome. yet we love. we have such a need to. makes us human, makes us us. why should khushi and asr love each other after this night? yet they do. somewhere shyam deserves a tight hug for being the cretin he is, he showed them how much they really loved each other in a way. when the going gets bizarre the heart really speaks.

even as a kid, i never forgave ram for doubting sita. to me the most powerful phrase of the story of ram sita is, "dharani dwidha hao," i am getting goose bumps. she called to her mother, the earth, and said, part, take me back in your arms, and she went away forever. here asr and khushi both could find a way to look into each other's beings and "see" the truth... it needed no proof. i can't stop reveling in that. and the fact that the night before the so called remarriage she said yes to him. to me, this is their marriage. good bad indifferent this is it... because love was always there.

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 i watched the expressions, the constant talk between two people. so much was said and heard, yet not... only two people who mean everything to each other could look at each other with such eloquence. and really how gorgeous were the bride and the groom. a sublime note, a sensual strain, a sustained sense of sacredness here right through. and that suffocation.

the shadi karni hogi episodes

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something classic here

she looked beautiful. gave a grandeur almost to that moment... sanaya with light make up and the right colours reminds me of the classic actresses of way back. there's something classy and sexy at once in the girl.
and really with switch flying, never seen a girl look this captivating.

episode 39 you galvanize me

i mean, seriously, that's a cheap wig from wardrobe flying, i should be laughing at the whole thing, instead, i am gawking. shot to hell my sense of of being clever and cool this television show. teehee.

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those teej episodes

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episode 2 still breathless

i feel the asphyxiation. i feel the tremors of fear and feelings never felt before. it's episode two. apparently, no one remembers who came second, well the second episode is not one i'll ever forget. her eyes perplexed, completely puzzled, at times angry, at times terrified and then a moment held still for eternity.

a hand where it shouldn't be.

an indrawn breath.

clenching of a hard jawline, eyes dark and boring. uncaring. egregious. untenable.

a set of eyes shocked. unable to fathom the moment.

a row of pearls... falling, scattering... a sound filtering through numbness, the choked breath.

a rank stranger has touched what's next to her skin and ripped the string that holds her blouse in place. in a looming deserted haveli unfamiliar to her, late in the evening, as she stood there alone with him. his captive. his prisoner. and he not there to show mercy.

not a single thing about the man looked forgivable at that instant. he had lost control.

he had perhaps lost it the moment he'd seen her on a ramp. his ramp. and then she'd tripped and his arms had reached out without seeking his express permission.

a contact with a complete stranger with large frightened eyes and trembling lips that had perhaps ripped something way deep within him.

he didn't know.

he is a man who operates from what he knows, not what he feels. and from that perspective, she could only be a spy, someone sent by business rivals to ruin his show. as his eyes find it hard to move away from her visage, he must act... he throws her away from him, violently, of course.

she is terrified. an evening that was supposed to bring a solution to the problem of dowry for her sister, where she'd meet her to be brother in law who she's sure is a wonderful man, a man of conscience, zameer... she has fallen straight into the arms of a man who moments ago we have seen disavowing that very thing, no place for conscience in his world of business... should you by any chance have it... you must crush it.

he is angry, a white hot anger. who is she? find out. lock her up.

 

she is a girl of eighteen or so, who has never ever been in a place like this before. nothing she says makes a difference. unknown men hurl her into a room, lock the door. that the room is fairly brightly lit with illuminated boards that seem to be part of a set, doesn't make a difference... it is suffocating and unreal. scary. she is banging on the door... please let me go, she pleads. there's no one around... and if they come, they only come to ask questions that make no sense to her.

and then he comes, a cruel slant to his lips. his eyes glowing with deep dark anger. he is arnav singh raizada and he is about to interrogate an enemy, a spy.

a girl alone and a man possessed.

this is just a tv show but i am feeling tense, breathless. he flicks his fingers imperiously. they open the door... she races out. a gazelle like creature, her beautiful glimmering lehenga and choli lift as she runs behind the pillars. i have to say in episode two again direction, art direction, music, dialogue, everything is a cut above. thrilling.

 

dark and light... a sense of chiaroscuro... each frame like a portrait. she runs, but she hasn't seen the man in front... a man in black who's walked up that same corridor of light and shade from the opposite direction.

she is free she thinks and then something slams into her elbow, grips, throws her back. she almost falls, taken completely aback, fear returning... and confusion. why why are they doing this to her. she has to go home, she knows nothing, her sister's getting married, she must reach... if she doesn't...

opposites. they are on two completely different sides of a plane you sense. and yet, they must collide.

he fixes her with a cold merciless gaze and starts walking toward her. she's mesmerised by that gaze. unknown, unheard of threats seem to murmur and hiss in the space between them. what will he do, why does he walk that threatening pace to her... she starts walking backward.

no, at this point, even though i'd seen diwali before i saw this episode, and now the entire show a couple of times, i still don't think this is one day going to be their signature forward backward walk, a sign of their romance. even now it is plain terrifying... she is alone in a huge mansion with a man who might do anything when crossed.

an interrogation gets going. he wants to know who has sent her, she has no idea what he speaks of. she says it was a mistake. he says mistakes must also be made according to one's place in life... aukat. she is shocked. what is this man saying? but she must plead, beg, do what it takes to get away. jiji's wedding is about to start...

please let me go, she says, otherwise my sister's wedding might break.

he doesn't care, let her marriage break. anyway, and this he says with an utterly insulting sneer, girls like you, nothing makes a difference, if one guy goes you'll trap another... "tum jaisi ladki"... girls who "phasao" guys.

she is nonplussed. what is this man saying? why? he is a complete stranger... she must have thought what is this "tum jaisi ladki"? she is not to know of his past, his fixations, perhaps the very sight of a helpless, nubile, middle class girl brings on feelings of chaos in him... i had a sense of that. at this moment, khushi is just a generic type of being, a girl... beautiful... not wealthy... he reads it as danger... destructive.

yet perhaps the way he speaks of her jiji restores a sense of coherence in her. she will not put up with this. that jiji is part of her heart is clear from the moment you set eyes on her, this relationship is priceless, she will not let anything or anyone mar it. denigrate her sister.

she centers through anger and hurls back... how can you say such a thing? what if it were your sister?

how is she to know, it was once his sister... she did have a wedding ruined... on a night which was all and only about treachery and darkness that never leaves, that pervades the heart, that enters the eyes. that untethers the mind.

"kya bakwas kar rahe hain aap? aap kuchh bhi bole jaa rahe hain...

aap ke gharwale ko koi aisa bole! aapke didi ki shadi toot jaaye toh!"

she is not going to bow down to this pressure, one has to admire her resilience. she doesn't notice his eyes growing icier, his stance more angry.

she pushes, tears streaming down her face, voice breaking, yet finding her anger, letting it bring force and courage to her...

"aap ke didi ke baare mein koi aise bolega toh aap kya bolenge?"

she is terrified but not daunted you get the sense, she's going to fight back... not fear the worst that can happen in that scenario...

his eyes glitter, jaws clench.

"boliye," she insists, "hai koi jawab??"

say... do you have any answer?

he says nothing... fury is overtaking all faculties...

"badtameezi ki bhi had hoti hai..."

she has called his talk bakwas, now she calls him badtameez, ill mannered, rude.

"hat jaiye hamare raaste se... hume jaane dijiye!"

she orders him to move out of her way and is about to walk away.

she has no idea you don't order this man, you don't walk away from him unless he is ready to let you.

of course, he reaches out and catches her easily, flinging her back to where she had been standing, a pure anger overflows, the dam has been breached.

"badtamezi toh maine abhi shuru bhi nahin ki," swift low voiced retort. i've not even started being ill mannered.

"tumhe jawab chahiye na?"

you want an answer, right?

and before one can think or feel a thing, a hand moves, a snap is heard... a breath caught... pearls scatter.

a girl's eyes registers complete shock.

speechless... endless moment.

 

was everything tied right here as a dori snapped? an act of war, almost, committed that would lead us straight and sure to love?

the sound of the those pearls, rat ta tat a tat... was that the drumroll that started the love story, one in which there are no winners or losers, no right or wrong, no good or bad... only lovers and their most precious pearl... an emotion?

 

at 7:45 of episode two came a key moment in iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? in all love stories lovers meet... which is what we saw in episode one. but every love story is specific... its own kind... with its own unfolding, reasons to exist, ornaments, symbols, associations. in that one act of his, a snapping of a dori, the dori of a girl who was a complete unknown entity, both of them entered a space where suddenly there was extreme intimacy...

a moment neither could ever forget.

and in it it too was the absolute knowledge, he was not immune to her. she had breached and entered his world without his knowing it. when? was it that moment when she fell into his arms and he heard her breath, he caught her, his eyes looked into hers and then travelled slowly down to her lips.

most likely.

 

otherwise why would he let her go with so much violence? and his eyes darken just looking at her whimpering against the ramp...

he thought it was because he believed she was a threat. to his business... shatir asr, she was a threat indeed. and he had with his own hand started their story. as he has said, he is arnav singh raizada and he writes his kismet with his own hands.

finally, he moved... only to fling her away. again. she fell against the pillar. a thousand thoughts of shame and being a girl alone before cruel male eyes must have gone through her shattered mind. 

 

then she acted. again a sign of the girl she was. a solution. she found a solution. she untied her gota ribbon and threw her hair on her back, covering it... then she turned to look at him, a tear drop streaming down her cheek.

did his look change as he saw the tear? a seismic shift? or was i imagining it? she walked away this time. he stood still... the aggression no longer in evidence. just a rock like, monolithic stillness. eyes glowing darkly.

i have never seen a moment like this on television. layers and layers of feelings in it. and that act.

she looked delicate and beautiful, vulnerable yet hardy. he looked arresting, lethal, unrelenting. he was in a position of power. she was not. but he did let her go... without getting his answer. perhaps riven by that very at of his.

how would they resolve this i wondered. 

 

on the other side, her family waited, broken and tense. a wedding hadn't gone through and a daughter was nowhere to be found. it was late at night. beautifully crafted scenes of anxiety, despair, intermittent anger, a family traumatised.

garima exhorted her daughter payal to tell her if she knows anything about khushi. at payal's silence she admonished, how can that be, khushi tells her everything... "sui barabar baat"... something as fine as a needle too... i loved the usage of colloquial language in ipk. i am sure my hindi improved while watching.

shashi gupta was worried sick for chhutki. garima's large expressive eyes hinted at the million fears racing through her mind and also a sense of things terrible to come. the mother of daughters in a middle class set up, who herself is not strong enough to stand firm against unfair tradition, but is sensitive and caring nonetheless, feels and senses things that are hard to understand by anyone not in that place. i am quaking at the thoughts that must have materialized in her mind. the actress portraying garima did a brilliant job of expressing that exploding tension. "kahin usse kuch..." an unfinished sentence thick with fear and love.

khushi's bua ji berated her and ranted constantly and now we knew, khushi was not born to her parents, but was her amma's sister's daughter, come to them only ten years ago when her parents died. it was clear from the way her babu ji spoke, he loved her, he trusted her and he had to stop his respected, much loved sister from going off at a tangent... of course, it was also obvious his sister had a preference for the tangent, and for colourful language. she also sounded completely callous and uncaring toward khushi. grossly so. yet we'll soon find out otherwise.

payal opened her mouth at last... obviously looking for a way to say what she had to without in any way harming her sister. and suddenly a scooter was heard.

shashi gupta smiled a little... relieved. a father knowing his daughter is safe... more important than anything at the moment.

payal smiled, "khushi aa gayi..."

she was about to go out, but her mother stopped her.

and we saw the struggle this woman was going through that evening... love and anger battled. love won when she walked out to get her girl, while curious neighbours looked on. her first words, "tum theek ho?" then  quickly her whispered angry, don't create a scene, come inside.

the neighbours had waited for khushi to arrive and partake of a little more of the unusual. the people of gomti sadan perhaps did not lead very interesting lives, they struggled with all that people not of fabulous means struggle with in life. suddenly amid this, a coming of the baraat and its leaving without the marriage taking place... it was bound to cause talk, unkind barbs and an eagerness for some more drama to unfold.

the night felt oppressive and unkind though so prettily lit with fairylights. silks and zaree and jewellery and colour adorned everyone, yet there was no sign of happiness or celebration.

interstingly, payal was not falling to pieces, instead she worried for her sister.

when garima heard what khushi had done this time, she was beside herself with anger and said, khushi was not her daughter. i got the feeling that hurt khushi more than the snapping of the dori.

payal finally told khushi not to feel bad, the man they thought was good was not really so, he knew of his mother's demand for more dowry last minute yet he had said nothing.

so the man who khushi was sure was a decent man was not so. the man whom khushi had called badtameez, would he turn out to be anything but that?

the pearls scattered again. their sound triggered memory and a feeling that a story had only just begun.

 

n i s h a n a   e p i s o d e s
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