a man and a girl who was a woman

a part of a conversation with a friend on india forums.

you had to fall for him, rhea. there was no choice. i too tried hard not to notice. even before seeing the first episode i'd decided, he'd be just a gauche, trying hard to be tycoon actor, and not me, i was not watching all this, i am not into hindi serials anyway.

he'll never look this young again. but he'll look different, older, something else in his eyes. and i hope i will always get that little oh no i'm about to fall feeling when i see him.

breaking my heart that he'll be on tv and i won't be watching.

that womanly thing in khushi... how sanaya portrayed it. smashing. that's what asr did perhaps for khushi, let her reach into herself and find out everything that she was, could be... i loved the way the girl woman was played... so real. i so wish they had given this a chance instead of constantly caging her up. and really, one can theorise and write stories but till actors get it and portray it like that... how how how... serial after serial i am seeing so called better written female leads, supposed chemistry, much delved into concepts of love, but not one gives me a moment like that. when in fact... saansey ruk jaaygi happens. these two... really something else together. i will always hope to see them together again. even when they are as old as nani ji and nana ji.





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shayad yeh nadani

ipk 3 anniversary month still on. i wanted to just sigh over the beautiful writing and delivery by a lovely inward sounding voice. i have no idea who actually wrote the "shayad yeh nadani" soliloquy of khushi's. what i do know is you rarely get such depth of thought and words on telly. not in a serial certainly. falling in love and romance are not arcane niche things, there's loads of writing on this... naturally to find what stands out is tough. so many things start sounding the same. here there was a brief to writer i think to establish love including the feeling of falling in it without using the word love... also to say it all using nafrat, the feeling clearly identified by the speaker. hate is akin to love, ha, mills and boon stuff, right... so how come these guys took it to this classic level. no hesitation, no yikes i will regret this later, but this is fantastic writing.

and sanaya irani, such flawless delivery. hits the insides makes you want to feel exactly those feelings. whoever directed her for this one... arshad k or lalit m... may jalebis rain on you all your life.


wrote this three years ago, the sixth anniversary month is still on i see.

the realm of hatred... and a soliloquy

my take on episode 255 

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episode 383 jaa rahi ho... the first take

"jaa rahi ho?"  are you leaving?

did you hear the magnet in that quiet voice? how it pulled her over.

"hume jana hoga... arav ke liye." i have to go... for arav.

on that second part of the sentence, i felt my heart break a bit as her heart began to splinter.

two actors who have pulled out all the stops, no limits whatsoever, when it comes to bringing asr and khushi alive. i am fortunate to be with them every day.

"tumhe kya laga, tum chup chap chali jaogi aur sab theek ho jaayga?"

what dd you think, you'll go away without saying a word and all will be well?

what an understanding of khushi's character there by her creators, the writers, the dialogue guys.

"khushi, let's say yeh sab sach hota... toh chhorke chali jaati mujhe?"

khushi, let's say all if this were true... would you have left me?

rabba vey...

that's a question love asks, all love asks at some point or the other. because the difficult, the unbearable, even the impossible to bear happens. and if it is indeed love, that word "too often profaned", then it grows, it expands, it takes a long deep breath of pure oxygen and feels its feelings, its truth. and it stays.

khushi's arms going around him convulsively said that, though her words were: "hume nahin pata... hume kuch nahin pata." i don't know, i don't know anything.

the conflict in her heart about fairness to asr's other tie, as important as hers, in those words.

"mujhe pata hai. agar tum koshish bhi karogi, khushi, tab bhi hum alag nahin ho sakte. arnav aur khushi humesha saath rahenge." 

i know. even if you try, khushi, you can't leave me. arnav and khushi will always be together. 

in the quiet of an embrace and the lilting rabba vey strains, my arms tingled, my heart melted, i breathed easy. that was a man who had truly and utterly submitted to love and knew what it was. his lover is yet to make the journey all the way, but she is nearly there. that's why at the end...

"tum aise kaisi ho sakti ho?" how can you be like this?
"aap ki wajah se." because of you.

last night in a letter he'd told her how she had made him more, better, fuller. her short four word reply seemed to say the same.

i fell in love with this love story a while back. never have i ever followed a serial before as my friends on the forum know. there was an understanding of this indescribable emotion, compulsion, called love here i'd not seen elsewhere in a while. it was classic and contemporary at once. it believed and was unafraid. it sang, it danced, it took extraordinary leaps and turns, it struck deep with the lightest touch. asr and khushi kumari gupta were so lovely, i could barely breathe when they got going. barun sobti and sanaya irani showed pyaar for their profession in a way that made you want to hug and hi five them every time they got it just right. which was practically every time.

i fell deeper and deeper in love. should have guessed it would be challenged. all pyaar has its dushman, its dukh dard dastaan. why should my love be an exception. it wasn't, starting mid feb all sorts of things started to happen, yet there were always huge bits of great writing and unforgettable acting. whoever wrote asr and khushi managed to remain true, with minor hiccups, right through. of course, barun and sanaya became asr, khushi without holding anything back. this level of commitment to and oneness with character is found only among the greatest thespians portraying famous characters. i found both in a telly show. unbelievable. wonder if fifty years hence asr will bring to mind an image, the way captain kirk or spock does. i think it will.

and now the dard/dushman factor just got raised a few notches.

but i, with a "hume nahin pata... hume kuch nahin pata," am still here. this episode, ipk seemed to hold me and say: i promise, main sab theek kar doonga.

oh that slightest hint of a sly smile on sheetal's lips when he said : stay! and strode out. poor sheetal, she actually thinks she's got him where she wants him.

i just adored asr's confrontation with sheetal. her same old, it was a dark and stormy drunken night story, his what the and frown abs rejecting the whole thing, khushi's beautiful growing up into acceptance of a feeling and not judging him for having a child, his buying time to sort things out now that he has her assurance that she will be with him always (he needs her and never denies it from the moment he has acknowledged his love, in life too love asks just for that, okay i do sound mushy), the beautiful music over asr hugging arav (i felt he made a silent promise to the child to set things right), his words to arav: you are not alone (asr identifies with this boy's sense of being alone, it was his akelapan too that engulfed him till khushi came into his life and we heard him say as much to her the previous evening), enjoyed all of that and more yesterday. the family scenes, the structure and design, just about everything touched me and worked for me.

i don't know how things will evolve. funny, now it seems gul is out to destroy the man she imagined and made. creator, destroyer, the one and the same, something almost spiritual there. barun sobti, whatever may be happening out there, has never let me down in my deal with him. not a single instance, in more than 380 episodes where i've felt, he didn't give it his all. and the same with sanaya irani. in fact, most of the cast. there's a lot of beauty in that itself, for me.

so i watch. till asr is barun and khushi is sanaya and they are together. jab hum door hotey hain tab bhi paas hote hain. yehi hai pyaar. when we are far from each other, even then we are close to each other, this is called love. yes, i know i am being prepared. i am.

that's why i can still love.

"khushi, meri zindagi mein jo bhi hoga, sab tumhare saamne hoga... mujhe har kadam pe tumhari madad ki zaroorat padegi... are you gonna be with me?" 
 
"hamesha."

khushi, whatever happens in my life, will happen before you... i need your help at every step... are you gonna be with me?

always.
 
was someone talking to me? or am i being ott and filmi like someone we know.

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from crooner breathless

who could be expected to write cogently today after seeing what we have seen.

i am all over the place. a voice is blowing through me. a trembling lip caresses my eyes. what's that rush of wind and that distant song that plays? long distance, extreme close up, utterly scraggly and worn out "i love you."

is there any other way to say those words.

again and again and again barun shows his mettle as an actor. does even he know how good he is?

method acting from a lad who was minding phone calls till just a couple of years ago. who said the book he'd perused as a youngster was mainly his dad's cheque book. a 28 year old whose interviews never go right, right but not "right right". a serial actor who is handed the script piece meal, day upon day with no real plan as to where it's all headed. no ready film script here, no complete, edited, perfected play. a daily soap.

bless you, barun sobti.

and yes, sanaya irani. for close to 10 days now you've carried this show. she is a spunky one, isn't she? she knows who everyone is really devoted to, that the main audience of a daily tv romance isn't made up of men waiting to fall in love with love. yet, she's never phased. in fact. she gives her work and her co-star her utter best, straight from the heart, from the purest place of instinct and she shines. inviting all around her to shine as well. marvelous.

gosh that silent entreaty through inanimate phones and airwaves. one hand presses the receiver close to the ear, "khushi!" and an expression flits, a tear forms, the other hand comes up and cradles the phone closer. the tear rolls (the order of events is a mental recall, may be a bit off. sorry). she never says a word, yet she's saying so much to him. and he can hear every word.

god who wrote this scene. who directed it. who set the music. who edited. who counted the seconds. who said let the wind blow.

may i fall at your feet.

anjali returned in full force today. the milk crashed to the floor, and it was as though she reached right in and found the di that is viscerally attached to her chotte. children of the same mother.

yeah, looks like a kidnap (i never saw the precap as i caught the second telecast) and looks like snakewa is the creep. alas even all that lifebuoy couldn't wash the filth off him. oh oh oh. out, damned spot, out!

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wrote this on crooner soon after watching the episode. one of my earliest posts on the forum. i still recall my state when i first saw this scene. there was a lot of hope about the story and characters at that point... things didn't go the way we thought they might. but the feelings about the performance remain just that, in fact, every day i get hit by it some more.

 

episode 124 of faraq and zaroori

"yeh humari sagai ki angoothi hai"

his face lost all structure almost, all the hardness, the set jaw, the sharp gaze, the imperious lips, the utter certainty, the air of dominance. this is my engagement ring, she'd just said, and even if the echo hadn't been added to her voice, the music hadn't been tweaked, the slow (yet almost instant) wipe and falling away of all expression from a face, captured by a staggered pan would have told the tale and more. there was a crashing sound in it and it was picked up by my heart. i felt the draining of everything in him. a wind rose somewhere far away in a desert and blew across the wide expanse in seconds to sear through him; a howling, hot, merciless phenomenon of nature, swarming around, entering his heart carrying the dreaded words and tossing it everywhere, reaching his mind, his soul, his being. was there no escape from it.

 
i had been wondering for a couple of days, when i was forced to take a break, if indeed all was well in my ipk and barun world, or was my fantasy world crumbling. was the boy really the actor i thought he was? did i still feel the dhakdhak? yes, this too did happen, believe it or not. because not only were there the demands of family and ad, there were the mood swings of dailymotion. days went by without my watching anything. so many attempts to see 124, only to get stuck in the middle of backless choli scene. finally, the stars aligned and i saw the episode. again i realised, it is one thing to remember content, but another to actually watch the performers in action.

when this scene came, i knew the gold i thought i'd found was indeed that, no sign of dross in it. and i knew it straight in my heart as that expression hit it where it ticks. there are several brilliant actors in this world, many much more proven in their art and experienced than the young man i was staring at. but not one has reached my heart the way he does. every single time, har baar.

six months since we saw anything new from barun sobti. many rumours about the film he's made. no idea when it will be released. shooting for the 22 yards project pushed back by rain. sometimes a strange thought in my head. was it just a mirage? that shaking up of my reality by someone on a screen, that talent one could almost touch, that startling energy? 

all the doubts and worries gone in an instant. he will be back. would like to dedicate 124 to barun sobti, and pay tribute to his talent. this was his episode really.

 
his eyes seemed to bore into her, shocked yet entreating. tell me it's not true, they seemed to say. how could you do this, how could you... no. in episode 4, with glance icy cold he'd spoken of the world that was "bedard," heartless, where only money and power mattered. how hard he'd strived to give his heart this shell, this protection of material things, yet here was dard. again. she was engaged. she whom he couldn't fathom, who broke through his thick fortress walls every time, who got right under his skin, she whose every tear hurt him, with whom he could get angry, upset, completely besotted, bedazzled, but could never ever remain indifferent... what was this she just said.

the dhakdhak stayed long, rumbling quietly within, gradually melting through and becoming a part of heartbeat.

the day had begun with an altercation. they'd walked into each other, his papers had flown all over the place, he'd demanded an apology from her, she'd refused and said no way. of course, the argument had continued till she stomped off with a won't apologise, and to you... never. what was it with khushi. didn't she know that that's exactly the kind of thing he couldn't leave well alone? he'd find a way to retaliate. or maybe, one of her layers, that dupatta girl, wanted precisely that? oh, such lovely understanding of our contrary and striated characters by the writers.

curiously, and reflecting the same contrary thing in us, he'd dropped his phone in sheer surprise when he saw his nani dance to placate khushi, but he hadn't raved and snarled at the scene. instead a little quickening in his eyes when she reciprocated la's little flirtatious overture and decided to give in. got to say, sanaya was so fluid and lovely in that bit of oo la la swing, anyone would have succumbed. he'd actually gotten quite caught in the moment and smiled as he watched his fam go bonkers and so happy, also this exasperating woman do her loving giving thing. but of course, when their eyes met, he had to return to a closed look and walk off.

in the meantime, the ring is back with him... and he knows it's hers. she'd all trepidation walking into his room. he looks at her, remembers her yelling, "haan haan hume pata hai ki aap arnav singh raizada hain..." yes, yes i know you are asr, but i will not apologise to you, i will say sorry to anyone but never to you, "aur aap se toh bilkul nahin magenge." had he not remembered that, i have no idea what would have transpired. but he did. and the most wicked expression ever came into play. he was gonna have some fun.

a sweet smile planned revenge... "toh yeh tumhari angoothi hai." so this is your ring, he demurred, starting the game.

"ji, hume de dijiye." yes, give it to me, she returned not gauging mood, a little imperious in her choice of words.

not acceptable. "tumhe kya laga, tumhara jab man chahega tum iss kamre mein aaogi aur mujhe order dogi ke ring de do... aur main lauta doonga?" what did you think, you'd walk in whenever you like into this room and order me to hand over your ring and i'd do that?

this is asr, do not mess with him. whatever his feelings for her, he will not take that tone from anyone lying down, especially from her precisely because she matters; he so wants her to be his, hanging onto his every word, and there she goes defying him. unbearable. basic personality, hard for him to fight it. the duel begins in earnest. "kya kaha tha tumne, tum kissi se bhi mafi maang logi par mujh se nahi... socha arnav singh raizada se badtameezi se baat karke bach jaaogi? ring chahiye? sorry bolo." what had you said, you'd ask anyone for forgiveness but not me? thought you could be rude to asr and get away with it? want your ring? say sorry.

it was still somewhat playful, shards of the famous temper, but shades of naughty too. the little girl of 8 and boy of 14 never too far way when the two are together.

"sorry? kis baat ke liye?" sorry? for what? oh she's in no mood to give in.

how adroit the handling of escalation of war by writers, it's not in one jump ever that they reach a point of no return. always a to and fro, a provoke and attack and a rise of pace. i remembered the moment when he dropped her from his office... also had come on the back of this dueling they engage in no matter what when where. the only time they've both lost their heads and let it be what it longed to be was diwali night. but through many harsh words and hurtful encounters aren't they really always articulating just that very longing? that frantic desperate need for each other?

his anger pushes up. "sirf sorry nahin... kaan pakad kar maafi magogi." just sorry won't do, you'll hold your ears and apologise.

she storms off. keep waiting for that apology in which case. he'd said the ring was important to her. but it wasn't. not really.

the ring was important to them. it was meant to bring them to that moment in the rising hot sahara wind, when a man's world would fall apart and he'd make a connection that his tongue would not have the courage to utter, not because it lacked guts but because a heart had hurt too much and feared getting shattered again. and she would look into his eyes seeking answers to questions she'd not even asked herself yet knew they were there, she wanted them answered as though life itself depended on it.

he'd have thrown the ring... had it not been for the knock. beside himself with anger now, he was brusque, "kya hua, ab kyun ayee ho?" what happened, why have you come now?

"kya chahte hain aap?" what do you want. the tone has gone more tense now, thick... adults in place.

"main kya chahta hoon tum acchhi tarah jaanti ho... maafi mango." you know very well what i want... apologise. he is insistent, flint in his voice.

she begins to answer, but he cuts in, he wants his pound of flesh... "uh huh. kaan pakad ke..." uh huh, hold your ears.

devilish smirk... he's winning.

"sorry." she was humiliated but helpless, that ring she must get back. that ring not important to her.

and he was just settling down to enjoy his victory, when the tear in her voice caught his ears. he looked up... and in less than an instant, a shift in his eyes, so quick, the smile didn't have time to adjust. just the eyes... and a leap of emotion... a complete change.

"kitni baar bolna hai?" she was nearing hysteria in her pain...

"sorry sorry sorry sorry... sorry sorry sorry..."

"khushi?!"

he was up, and before her in a trice, holding back her hand from catching the other ear. he couldn't take that hurt in her voice, eyes, face, everything. the game had gone too far.

"sorry..." she went on like an automaton.

"shh."

he couldnt see her like this. how could he bring her to this state. that easily awakened gussa of his... he picked up the ring and returned it. rabba vey took note of the intensity, the remorse of the moment. a man and a woman in a place where nothing is as it should be.

then a beautiful thing happened. 

as she struggled to slip her ring on, hands trembling, unsteady, he took her hands in both his ever so tenderly to help her. she watched mesmerised. perhaps her heart wanted this moment, this putting of ring on her engagement finger by him to be true. but had he not said he was marrying another... so what could she do but agree to that alliance not of her heart... the one that meant nothing?

and she remembered, and pulled her hand away, "aap yeh angoothi nahin pahna sakte," you can't put on this ring.

he was surprised, taken aback at the vehemence in her voice. perhaps all he wanted to do was slip it on, on to her delicate finger, absorbed, engrossed, wanting just that. this was perhaps the first time ever he'd held a girl's hand like that and taken a ring in his to make her wear it. tenderly, patiently, lovingly. he hadn't even done it for the girl he said he'd marry.

but she said "yeh humari sagai ki angoothi hai," and the whole world blew away, leaving a deafening silence, a suffocating emptiness, a death almost of breath.

the ring slipped from his leaden fingers and plunged down. like his heart probably at that moment. the low angle shot transited to a close up of a club foot in black shoe under a lovely pink saree walking into frame exactly where the ring comes to rest, a delicate hand with manicured nails picked it up slowly. di had arrived.

perhaps someone had sent her to save him from this slow constriction of his senses. he returned to reality and walked away, she turned slowly toward di, numbed by all that had happened, emotions in turmoil, storm within.

a beautifully laid out scene.

anjali, with characteristic gentleness, put on the ring for khushi ji, admonishing her sweetly for dropping off this ring so valuable to her all over the place. khushi choked back tears as this whole world tumbled around in this crazy game of rings and engagements. rabba vey entered frame.

she looked at him, for her eyes just wanted to seek him now, now that she'd said the words and he was looking the way he was, what was happening to them her gaze seemed to ask as she watched him watching her. he turned away. no one was allowed to see him so vulnerable, he would hide all his pain, he would take care of it all. only the song seemed to know how far deep in he had been cut. 

we are not perfect... certainly asr is far from it. but the heart surely is pristine. haanh, nahin hai dil asr ke seene mein, he'd told her the day she had come trying to patch things up between him and la. but there was always that heart in the man. that heart that yearned, that longed, that wanted to fight with a girl and then wrap her in his arms and never let her go, kiss her by the poolside, lift her to his heart, never let her be hurt, yet tell her she meant nothing... didn't she know he said it because she did mean so much... some might say, she meant everything.

"lagta hai yeh ring aapke liye bahut his special hai... bataiye na iski khasiyat kya ha," di wants to know what makes the ring so special.

he looks at her as though asking her to break his heart again and again with those most hurtful words she has said... 6 words and his world reels, his heart aches... his breath stops... he can't focus... he can't...

"aapki shadi hone wali hai..." di is delighted, you're about to get married. he is struck by the meaning of sagai again, it means marriage...

two people, apparently not meant for each other, in fact now beholden to others, what is the thing that makes them ache so much for each other. does this have a name this intolerable feeling?

di leaves, and a long long moment in that difficult evening. two people stand looking at each other, pain and complaint in their eyes, yet who can say anything, now that they find themselves here in this forlorn juncture. rabba vey has never sounded more lost.

the phone rings, but...

"khushi," he needs to call her, he needs to be angry again. now.

"haan, buaji," she answers her phone, not him.

"khushi!!!"

"angoothi mil gayi," she's found the ring... he grabs her phone abruptly.

"yeh aap kya kar rahe hain.. hum baat kar rahe the..." what are you doing, i was speaking... she's angry, perhaps this time she too is using anger to mask the pain.

"main bhi baat kar raha tha..." i was speaking as well, his voice is throbbing with pent up something.

"aap kya kah rahe hain hume samajh mein nahin..." i don't understand what you're doing... he stands there, arm swung back holding her phone, face tilted looking at her with a question and something else in his eyes, just looking. an emotion enters his irises, his face begins to show things he rarely does, a pursing of lips, a flaring of nostrils, emotions he is trying hard to control but they will not listen. she is moved, confused, shaken by what she's seeing.  

soaked, salty voice, "kya kar rahi ho tum..." what are you doing. the edge of surf, white foam, touch of salinity, all guard down.

"humne kya kiya..." what have i done?

"tumhari sagai ho gayi... kaise... tumne mujhe batana zaroori nahin samjha? why... kissi ko pata kyun nahin hai ki tumhari..."

and it's all torn out of him, tide rising higher, gushing uncontrollable, submerging dry land, you are engaged... how? you didn't think you needed to tell me? why... how come no one knows that...

oh my sweet arnav singh raizada, "tumne mujhe batana zaroori nahin samjha" you ask. how is she to know that she needs to, even if she wanted to? didn't you tell her she means nothing to you? don't you understand she's too young, too inexperienced to know when you say that you mean the opposite. yet how you long for her to understand exactly this, don't you. someone to understand you as you are? someone to love you no matter what. and that someone is this girl right before you. khushi. the one whose name sounds different on your lips, the one you dream of, and fear losing. father betrayed you, maa went away, the world broke trust. you barricaded your fragile dil and said to h with it. yet something inside always wanted that one. the one who would release you. be yours. and you'll be hers forever. khushi. "tumne mujhe batana zaroori nahin samjha?" he'd ask her that on a ravaged bridge months later again. always that need to be important to her. mean something.

though she knew he hurt, she felt her own pain too keenly still. she flung back:

"aap ko isse kya faraq padta hai..."

angry, ferocious cry from a girl hurt by him too many times. what difference does it make to you? the classic question.

he caught her and jerked her close...

"mujhe kya faraq padta hai?!! mujhe faraq padta hai, dammit, kyunki ..."
i can translate the line all i like, but i'll never catch the tone, the texture, the velvet under the fire, the desperate wanting wrapped in violent words. what difference does it make to me... makes a difference, dammit, because -

and the struggle starts... to finish a sentence... to release the heart into the emotion... into this moment. faraq padta hai. makes a difference. he has said that at least. at last. and as she stares at him speechless and he holds her gaze but can't say a word, yet that slight swallow of his says it all, rabba vey now racing pounding insisting yearning loving submerging.

the ring had a job to do and it's kept its promise. brilliant writing. for asr to get to the point to say, yes damn you it makes a difference, one had to have a situation as harsh as this.

"khushi ji..." anjali came and took khushi away. she did look back of course, he quickly hid his face, but did she see it?

he stood there, aching. then his nostrils flared a bit, he tried to control himself, just the slightest swallow... yes, it was there... a tear in his heart.

rabba vey.

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episode 247 because you don't have a character

fights relieve me. they are real. they get rid of masks. as much survival technique as anything else. a human, a tiny being in a humongous world, a human's bid to hold on, not give territory, prevail. 

a fight between true lovers is thrilling. it takes to a peak need, love, hunger, despair, desire, just about any emotion you associate with lovers and that thing they have. not too many actors can give so much of themselves and go all the way to a bridge on a desolate not too pretty road. barun sobti and sanaya irani were just plain spectacular. it was a man woman fight, a husband wife battle, a lovers' earth shattering tiff and a leap by mere mortals to claim their life back from what felt like death.

while thinking and getting into that vicious fight between asr and khushi, i was reminded of an interesting conversation i had with my nephew recently about rugby. a pretty violent game, he is suddenly very keen on it, and he had said something to me about what his coach told them about the emotions of this aggressive game. wrote to him just now and got him to quote the coach's words.

"through every emotion you can get out happiness."

"so even when you are angry after you hit, eventually you turn out to be happy."

one should check to see if one of the writers had a thing for rugby... what a superb understanding of this conflict between two who only want to make love to each other and be happy. nothing else. 

something utterly raw about the whole thing, almost like unrehearsed fights between two adults who care like hell... there's aggression, demand, mad anger, crazy hurt, wrecking desire, and no real sweet script. goes here there everywhere... to horror and accusation and then again to the most vulnerable plea... am i not important to you? the opponent finds exactly that moment not to hear what's being said and retorts, hah, so you want an explanation is it! her way of saying perhaps, what about me... don't i mean a thing to you...

"khushi," a little pause, "mujhe explain karna zaroori nahin samjha?" didn't think it was necessary to me?

it's me, me... his eyes seemed to say, his face had lost all aggression, just his need, his fond hope that he was important to her. she had that power over him always.

seeing that gentleness, she reacted so terribly normally... with anger. 

"achha toh aapko safai chahiye ki humara bartav aise kaise hai? jaise kuch hua hi nahin hai? aapko himmat kaise hui humse yeh poochhne ki..." oh so you want an explanation as to why i am behaving like this... as though nothing has happened? how dare you...

she always fought back, didn't she. and that's why perhaps he looked at her differently. from day one, she never held back, never minced her words... in fact, when he was nasty to his girl friend the way she would rave at him. and there fights always went all over the place, never quite moving along a straight line... always unfathomably real.

she had gone to give it to him by the poolside once, episode 127, and tell him why exactly people keep quiet around him, that his gussa, his aggression hurts people... he had listened to her and then thrown her completely off kilter asking her, why? why did it make a difference to her when he got engaged, what difference did it make to her? she had been completely thrown by that as he had been by the fact that she was engaged... but she had said, it made no difference whatsoever. 

anger and friction from day one, "aap kya bakwas kar rahe hain" she said to him then, to his, "tum jaisi ladkiyon ka kya, ek jayga, doosra phassa logi," today again that "phassana," trapping, accusation comes full circle... self fulfilling prophecy like, the words of that first day seemed to turn out to be true... she had trapped a "shadi shuda" married man he told her. she had done a "phassana." like shyam is this innocent who got nabbed by a scheming home wrecking khushi... girls like her are all out to ruin guys... an old old pain always messes up his judgment, makes him say terrible things.

and he hasn't held back at all today, let all his anger, his terrible sense of betrayal pour out. how could you?!!! he has raved on the terrace after that ridiculous situation where he almost lost her forever. his anger is at an unimaginable high now. relief mixing with pent up anger and frustration of a month and more, perhaps an ancient anger mixes with it too, wanting expression, expunging even.

he has held her to him, he has pushed her off vehemently.

he has called her characterless. he knows everything, he has said. 

"jaanta hoon ki tumhara aur shyam ka affair chal raha hai..." i know you and shyam have an affair on. very colloquial hindi, kinda nice and angry.

that is why he has married her. to save his di, her baby... he can do anything for his di, even marry a wretch like her... 

"in fact, you know something, itne mahino se main yeh soch raha hoon ki tum iss had tak kaise gir sakti ho... tumhe dekhkar hi mujhe..." okay it's not so many months, it's so many days... but he has been wondering how she could have fallen this low.

then he says, i should have known the moment i saw you... is he talking about the first time they met?  is he in his crazy anger admitting that was the day she had started making a difference? oh that beautiful flashback from yesterday of the first very first time he saw her and she fell into his arms, just as she is about to jump off the ledge and he has no clue if he will succeed in saving her.

everything goes haywire. he can't take it, he walks off, the angriest stare at her walking away all the while... contact he can't seem to break.

she is left stricken, speechless. smited. at last she knows. knows why he married her.

because she is a lowdown s**t. so he believes. how will khushi deal with this. any accusation on earth she might have handled... but this? and how hard she believes she has tried to protect him and his family from this painful truth... his sister's husband is not faithful.

the writer opts for a response quite typical of certain personality types, especially when the situation is colossally painful.

khushi collapses on the ground, alone, bereft, shocked, horrified, then she decides to shut up and go almost into denial... 

if the man you loved the most in the whole wide world thought you were a harlot and said that is why he married you... where would you be, how would you defend yourself against that scrum of accusations most vitriolic and gargantuan when you haven't even taken your position? you are still thinking it's all about some left over feelings for an ex girlfriend or something and getting all emotional about how you would have walked away had you known. 

when all along, it's something else. you are the one with a boyfriend. having an an illicit love affair. you are the one people need to save their helpless innocent sisters from. and he can do anything for his di. even marry you.

"tum jaisi ladki se shadi bhi kar sakta hoon" finger jabs down, "aur wohi maine kiya..." 

khushi does what khushi can. what people who are suddenly thrown such a big one often do... a sadness deep mixes with a denial bordering on hysteria. as a reaction, one can't argue with it... people react in different ways... but i felt the acting fell short. especially since the other one had taken it to a high most dizzying.

and now having said what has riven him this past month and hurting the one for whom he gives such faraq, he is trying to find solid ground again. and failing. a beautiful few minutes on a verandah with a silent man and his memories, body taut, face eloquent and thoughts that "lie too deep for tears." he hates to see her unhappy, when she says aisa kyun hota hai his heart aches, but she is saying to a man that he must leave di... khushi!!! you can feel that ache.

then khushi comes in with her happy chirpy talk.

he is flummoxed for a second, but then it only stokes his anger, did his opponent know that would be the result of her reaction? maybe her subconscious did. this is the classic "nothing" when a woman means everything is the matter i think. but in its most hysterical form... and in fact all it does is goad. 

fights are unpredictable in their twists and turns.

and so a lithe angry man must slam on the brakes and stop the car on the middle of a bridge, swing out burning with anger... walk across, pick up a framed picture and smash it on the road. break break break.

break, break, break,

on thy cold grey stones, o sea! 

and i would that my tongue could utter

the thoughts that arise in me!

~~~ alfred, lord tennyson ~~~

then he must drag her out of the car and push, badger, rave, ask for answers... how how could she do it.

and if she keeps quiet, where's her jugular... aah in the stars, go for it... go on, speak of her parents... respond to me, dammit.

how could you hurt me so much and keep quiet.

howww?

stray thought... when othello found out about desdemona or so he thought... he killed her, tom jones has told us what happened to my my my delilah when she was unfaithful. when men find out their lovers or those they love madly may have a sexual liaison on with another man, something goes crazy... there is often killing involved... and it is understood as a crime of passion. asr had to do something huge that night as reaction... he forced her to become his, he married her, he couldn't throw her away... maybe because he knew the other option would be what... this is not a man of small feelings... nothing that night would have led to a nice meaningful chat over coffee and masala tea. because not only were a man's arms around his woman, she was screaming and telling the man to get rid of his wife... confirming she, khushi kumari gupta, was party to this whole despicable unbearable thing. as a kid, my cousin and i would often get into arguments and he he most often i beat him, once he was so angry, he hopped up and down and threatened me, if i don't behave, he'd marry me and take me to my sasural, show me his power. i think this dragging women off to tribal enclosures and showing them who's the boss may be an ancient cave man, male thing... well whatever it is, with those feelings, nothing could have been rational that night... thank g the writer chose this option... and most touchingly after that, no sexual assault, none.

coming back to the bridge over turbulence.

"that's enough... enough!!!!"

what do you think, i am going to forget everything so easily... don't pretend you don't know what i am talking about...

why is he doing this i wonder. does he want confirmation or negation...

i think a part of him wants to hear it is not true. and another can't take it that she seems unscathed while he is dying like this...

at last khushi starts to thaw a bit.

"actually, tumhe toh koi faraq hi nahin padta..." actually, it makes no difference to you, "shayad issiliye mujhe explain karna zaroori nahin samjha..." perhaps that's why you didn't think it was necessary to explain anything. how badly he needs her to say, heck he does matter... baat aapki hai, she will say soon. in all his rant what's getting lost is, baat tumhari hai, khushi... that's why he can't think sanely.

a sad empty voice... "shayad kuch kahne ko tha hi nahin..." perhaps there was nothing to say.

and anger returning, "aur hoga bhi kaise, kyun ki tum achhi tarah jaanti ho, ki tum galat ho.." how would you say anything, you know you are wrong. the woman he loves is galat. the man who so wanted to be sahi, loves the galat girl... irony of life, never fails to wham you.

he is relentless... you are great at hiding your mistakes, it's sad that your and my family love you so much... "kyunki tum unke pyaar ko deserve nahin karti..." because you don't deserve that love...  he doesn't know it's his love for her he speaks of, of course.

he can't stop, he goes no... he needs a response... crosses the line... 

"achha hai ki tumhare mom aur dad aaj yeh din dekhne ke liye zinda nahin hai..." very asr trait this line crossing with her...

not a word, not ek shabd about my amma babu ji, khushi opens her mouth at last.

he seems to relax a bit... at last she speaks, and he doesn't mean to back off. he needs a face off, a battle with her... all that has been pent up in him this month and more... it needs to work itself out ... a right royal fight with her is needed. i love this humanness of asr, earthy, real, flawed. it is hard to be a mortal really.

"kyun?"

nasty nasty tone.

push her... what have i said wrong... you say your parents have become stars, so how do you meet their eyes.

bas!

yes, he is drawing blood...

not a word about my parents.

he watches her intently. he is looking for something... constantly at her he looks again and again ever since that terrace.

as though his life depended on it.

silence... she sees her raised finger.. he just waits.. waits for her to say something... he is perplexed by everything.

she tries to take back calm again.

humey ghar jaana chahiye... we should go home.

but no way... we are not leaving this place till i have answers to my questions. so he has sawal and wants jawaab...

he always gets physical when angered... hauls her to another part of the road and faces her... he wants answers... what answers.

they will not leave, till he knows how come despite getting such a good upbringing, she could go so low.

in the middle of rising chaos, he did break out into that beseeching almost "mujhe explain karna zaroori nahin samjha" like he just needed her to say, it's all nothing, just a lie... but then things again went haywire as it must.

his anger returned. and she raved. why did you not ask for this clarification that night when you forced me to marry you and that too for six months...

something from 127, there were bits of this bridge even there, even perhaps in episode 2. and many places along the way.

"each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can't light them all by ourselves."~~~ laura esquivel, like water for chocolate ~~~

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friday thoughts on episode 297... tycoon and the bag lady

he mahaepisode has taken me to inner places. how this whole thing started with a light, jaunty, a little westernised, romcom air and look where it's gone. without losing the initial freshness it's added more and more depth. we're actually going through a pretty real relationship with arnav and khushi. and in a setting we can identify with. curiously indian despite the english in dialogues, the man in waistcoat, the dhingchak accent. actually, as far as i'm concerned english is also an indian language.

can a multi-millionaire tycoon who is the lion in his den become a sweet, courteous damaad ji upon hitting super middle class sasooral with broken mirrors, leaky pipes, and squishy soaps? we know he can. we have seen such people. only diff, they don't look like asr or give us heart attacks with little almost uncalculated expressions in eyes, lips, stuff (have you seen how much his hands say).

and i was looking at khushi, returning to her sense of her own self after the harrowing days of kidnap, shyam drama, and now sister-in-law trouble. where do we go to feel like ourselves, earlier the mandatory once a year visit? the maika, of course. as bua ji resorted to her familiar loud love, the yelling, the sanka devi, the nazar utarna which actually many people still do, i could see khushi becoming khushi again. oh how much arnav enjoyed watching that.

some great insights and brill writing there. 

a man in the throes of an unfamiliar tenderness. a girl who is in no mood to be good.

love o so lightly, tenderly, haltingly.

it was wafting in the air. it touched everyone it passed. it was in bua ji's natkhat mood, in shashi babu's pleased eyes, in garima's smile, in nani ji's little toss of head to the rest to leave the lovebirds alone, in nk's delight. not a love locked away in a darkened room of uncontained passion, but a love that is so vast you can't hold it in, it just roams freely about, shows up wherever you are.

only after this, does the other love, the one in seclusion with untethered amore, seem right. seems part of a story, a nice long novel in fact.

i see so many things in each of barun's gazes, turns of head, curl of lips, walk, pause, every gesture. maybe i just read too much in them, even things he doesn't intend. that's the beauty of real communication to me, when the receiver starts adding her own layers. gives something back and the whole thing becomes much more than what it was when it started out.

of course, this is not objective, but can one be objective about love or while watching two people deeply in it?

sanaya's smile when she realises he's got her a gift was the cutest, then her little about face upon realising mister ji had delegated was cuter still. only sanaya could look as adorable as she did in that perfectly ghastly dress. there was a sense of my kkg of yore in its flakiness, don't you think?

(while i am a bit nutty about bags, her point re utility of bag vs cost has to be given thought. my hubs will send phool chandan and jhola bag to ms irani should i come around to her point of view.  and that's the only fault i could find with asr yesterday, you never tell someone esp your beloved wife how much the gift cost. dear writers, did not like that, not from a polished self made man.)

loved the bark at the end. poor boy, suffered being sweet the whole day. just one thing, at some point he needs to thank nk properly for doing what he did for khushi. hope writers remember that. still missing mama ji and though one must never think of such things, the sudden disappearance of masala mama perplexes.

sigh, monday please come.


(written straight after first watch on the crooner thread in india forums... i had liked the episode much more than i did when i saw it later, when i knew where all this would finally lead us. but the first thoughts remain valid in a way and there are times when during a viewing i feel all these thoughts.)

"do laakh?... aap ko bhi loot liya!"

watch vm love is in the bag here

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