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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 10 years ago

#151

episode 331

crooner 1.29: a drop of love... that mehendi moment and its many thoughts.

a hand gently touches a hip to turn her around, another brushes against mehendi, so immersed is she in that guiding touch she never notices. two hands on her back, meditatively tying a dori, longing, desire sweeping across to something more, a moving emotion that rests deeper within. in him, in her. echoes of another day, two hands searching touching wondering in a pool, a hand on her back snapping a dori, fingers unentangling fairy lights caught in the dori. when was it hate, when was it desire, or was it always only love.

priya, in your beautiful crooner you speak of a drop of love, "bas, ek chhoti si boond," that is first denied then given with an ocean of emotion. i am still now immersied in, now afloat on it. just a few minutes in a whole episode, but those are the only ones i feel.

one drop of love to make a new start

one drop of love everyone's heart

one drop of love, will plant a seed

maybe everyone will follow our lead

then they'll see, one drop can grow

'cause wilt enough drops a whole river flows

a whole river flows from one drop of love

~~~~~~from a much listened to and loved ray charles song

laad governor kahinke sees the untied dori and calls her aside. he awaits her in a space both physically and intrinsically away from it all. you could sense the seclusion, the otherness of this translucent, amorphous, curiously intimate world. she wafts in, beauteous, and tries to still her nervous excitement with a blase: kya? he just looks at her, feelings converging, growing, in his gaze. his hand reaches toward hers, she draws back and holds up her mehendi decorated arms: you can look, but mustn't touch. he looks and a musing smile appears unbidden; what memories, what thoughts behind those chocolate brown eyes? wreathed in smiles before him stands his wife, his bride to be. desire begins to darken his gaze, in one swift movement his hand is on the small of her back, only her diaphanous chunni separates the two, and she's jerked right up against him.

too unexpected, too excited? the lady protests.

"arnavji, kya kar rahein hain aap? chhoriye, chhoriye."

a penetrating, smouldering look and

"really?"

what's in that really? really, do you want me to let you go? really (looking at his initial in her mehendi) am i the one in your heart?really, then why are you looking at me like that? really, the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

hay hay hay... rabba...

sure enough her eyes speak louder than her words, and she is drowning in a deluge of emotions. all that she wants, all that she hopes and dreams of, all that she fears losing, all here right here, her eyes can't leave his, what's in his eyes? they search endlessly in each other's unblinking gaze for words from the heart. just a few seconds but an eternity passes.

his hands drop to her hips as he begins to turn her...

suzanne takes you down to her place near the river

you can hear the boats go by

you can spend the night beside her

and you know that she's half crazy

but that's why you want to be there

and she feeds you tea and oranges

that come all the way from china

and just when you mean to tell her

that you have no love to give her

then she gets you on her wavelength

and she lets the river answer

that you've always been her lover

and you want to travel with her

and you want to travel blind

and you know that she will trust you

for you've touched her perfect body with your mind.

his hands drop to her hips as he begins to turn her... this is the woman he'd once meant to tell he had no love to give her. this is the woman who he knew was half crazy but he was now completely crazy about. this is the woman who would take him to that river of love. for he has touched her perfect body with his his heart, his thought, his being, his mind.

it is with all of that, he touches her mehendi as she turns willingly in his arms, now no resistance in her, ready to give in, no more chhoriye. in fact, he is not even holding her, just feather light urgings with his hand. she pauses, not knowing what's to come. when his fingers brush against her back she is seized with desire, but no chhoriye escapes her lips. then she feels him tying her dori, and she is left with a different wonder. brow furrowed, breath controlled wanting so much to but willing himself not to, he carefully ties the two errant strings. a sense of hamesha floats by. never again to be untied, never to be torn asunder, you and i.

she steps away and looks at him, he leans in, in a beautiful movement as though drawn toward her by an unseen dori, a kiss is already forming in two minds. eyes request permission. eyes look all shy and turn away. she runs off.

but then she does look back as he knew she would. and there he stands, head slightly bent down, a new emotion in his eyes. he lifts his palm and she sees bas ek chhoti si boond on it. the whole world rocks as a tidal wave of feelings breaks across her, around her, in her, everywhere. she can't hold back anymore. she runs right back and flings her arms around him, her happiness a fluid all encompassing presence. he lets himself go, and immerses in it.

and you want to travel with her

and you want to travel blind

and you know that you can trust her

for she's touched your perfect body with her mind

~~~~~~~~ every time i hear suzanne, i get lost, leonard cohen's words, neil diamond's voice, my favourite version

he whose journey was hijacked by betrayal and tragedy at a tender age. who had stopped believing in anything but the material. who couldn't bring himself to be vulnerable again and so had completely shut himself in. he was ready to open the door to his innermost self, his sanctum sanctorum again. main mama banne wala hoon. meri shadi ho rahi hai. ordinary words, fairly regular life stages for many. but for arnav singh raizada it is a reach out to firdaus, paradise, here on this earth. at last the heart had awoken, its desire stronger than all hurt, all fear, and he has started hoping again. dreaming of adding love and loved ones to his life. making a family, being a family. not losing, never losing love or a loved one again. a time to redeem his lost life and loves.

some people never see the light

until the day they die

but I've been released
and I've been regained

~~~~~~~~ neil diamond again

a time to be released, regained, once again. he holds up his hand with that one drop of love.

there's always been chemistry between them, now it's getting more complex, organic, like all that is life.

anjali and arnav. victims of the same circumstances, yet how different its impact on their personalities. there is nature, it's not just nurture, after all. on one hand arnav: the one with the inherent nobility of spirit, courage, straightforwardness, faith, uprightness, "rajashik." on the other, anjali: opportunistic, dependent, deceptive, weak, leaning, essentially "tamasik." she will do everything to get what she wants, without giving a damn for anyone. he will even deny himself love to protect the ones he feels responsible for. that night on the terrace, a man betrayed very young, reacted; because he had not a single sly or underhand bone in him, he couldn't smell the deception. his world shattered, and before he could do anything about it, more and more realities were flung at him. in desperation he hurt the one he loved the most without even knowing why.

today that glint of tears in those innocent eyes told me again why only a man like him could make such a colossal error. had he been a wee bit unclean, he wouldn't have. he would have negotiated, not given his all. just as he is giving now.

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 10 years ago

#152

episode 288

crooner 91: rhapsody of the soul... thoughts on a clifftop.

the clifftop obviously had me writing like there's no tomorrow. please read this if in the mood.

after this beauty, those episodes starting halfway through 288 become even more difficult to understand. especially in the context of that dupatta being put with deliberate care on her shoulders by the man who loves her eternally and will not even allow the eternal to take her away.

rhapsody.

what a beautiful word, anjali.
could it be the feeling i feel right now.

will be back when i've gathered myself a bit.
thanks for starting us on our soul search.

edited 😊

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)
hamari dhadkane ek ho jaati hain

he holds her limp, forlorn hand and lifts it ever so tenderly all the way to his heart. turning her palm, he presses it gently against his skin. he cradles her close, head pressed against hers, despair in his eyes. has he lost her? his heart beats steady, strong. he doesn't feel her fingers move as if awakened by those very beats. eyes tightly shut holding in the tears, he waits. he can't lose her. not now, not like this. "khushi!" pleading, desperate. "hmm?" is that her! his eyes fly open, as realisation dawns, endless feelings flood their quickening brown. he smiles. at last he smiles.

sometimes poetry cannot be learnt by heart, it is just felt by it.

for about 11 minutes last night, that is all it was. poetry. of love and death, of love and life; of the wind, sky, rain, and mud; of green hills and colourless breath. of my heart and hamesha.

why isn't she holding onto me as she did instictively before she even knew me, let alone loved me? he's looking for a sign of life, for if she is there, she will hold him, this he knows. and when she lifted her hand finally to latch on to the filthy banyan, oh that registering of it, his slow turning of head in wonder, the long look into her eyes, that utter relief and gratitude and that something else.

now that the hand had found life, it wanted love. she reached up to stroke his tear and mud stained cheek, he brought her palm to his lips. a kiss of joy, he breathed in. she looked in wonder, her arnavji, her adversary, her laad governor, her very first love. finally free. she had promised to bring him back, and she would. but before that, just by the wind and the leaves and the faraway temples and hamlets a few moments alone. alone with him. arms around each other, on the bare earth floor, among the silence and the stillness, flowing into each other, part of nature, two lovers endless in time.

i don't need anything else, khushi, i don't need anything.

tum jo mil gaye ho to yeh lagta hai, ke jahaan mil gaya
ek bhatke hue raahi ko carvaan mil gaya

he picks up her dupatta lying on the grass and carefully lays it upon her shoulders, a million promises in a single gesture. she looks up, only trust in those eyes. you are mine, he seems to say, i love you, i protect you, i make sure nothing puts even a mark on your dignity. she is too week to walk, close as she's drifted by death just a short while ago. he cradles her in his arms and walks with her to the jeep. his stride, her dupatta, their line of body just like from that evening of the guest house. or was it from before that, way before, from a time before memory?

poetry makes the prosaic bearable. and how i felt it last evening.
leaving you with a beautiful love song by tagore. hemanta mukherjee sings it ever so quietly for biswajit as he plays the piano thinking of his beloved wife in "kuheli" a movie from the early seventies. i saw it whan i must have been 11, the voice still plays in my head when i hear the words: tumi robe nirobe.

tumi robe nirobe hridoye maumo
nibiro nibhrito purnima nishithini-shomo

you'll reside in my heart, silent
as a deep and intimate full moon night,
you'll fill my life and youth,
and my whole universe, with splendour,
as the goddess of night.
alone will gaze your tender eyes,
the fall of your wear will keep me covered,
you'll fill my pain and suffering, my dreams fulfilled, with fragrance,
as the goddess of night.
... translated by dipak mitra.

Edited by indi52 - 10 years ago

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 10 years ago

#153

episode 288

from crooner 90: i am t think i will. the rescue of asr and khushi was stunning for me in many ways.

this has never happened to me before. i sat there transfixed, through the quickly ticking minutes, almost not daring to breathe. as the ride ended on the silhouette stilled against the setting sun, i was about to let go and say wow, when the precap (what happened to good old trailer) came on.

he was talking urgently to the unconscious khushi, "khushi, talk to me dammit... this is not FUNNY!" as his voice wobbled dangerously as though he were on a precipice about to plunge, i felt something give way inside me. i put my head in my hands and felt a sob rising within. i had to actually sit still for a few minutes to recover.

i felt something had reached deep within me, a place we keep carefully hidden from the world, and touched raw emotion. can't tell you what that did to me. most of all it told me, i am still alive. zinda hoon mein.

will try to put my thoughts as clearly as possible, hope i make some sense.

three episodes and the three crooners that delved deep into them flowed perfectly towards the ocean and came together somewhere for me. anjali, you were in perfect sync with the universe (ok sounds ott, but you guys all know what i mean), when you picked on the word "junoon," from sree. it was indeed all about passion last night.

and it stirred deep.

love and lust showed us their extreme opposite faces. shyam raved and ranted at his so called betrayal. khushi flung at him her despise and told him how far she was ready to fall for the man she loved. the devil smiled. so there isn't that much of a difference between us? zameen aasman ka farq! roared back the patni, the lover. lekin yeh aap nahin samajh sakte! has an aap ever sounded more insulting, more demeaning? just what the hideous lust of his deserves.

he bursts out of the godown, mid fight. he hears her voice. he turns as though physically pulled, all actions pause. khushi! the most poignant rabba ve fades up saluting and celebrating what shyam will never understand nor feel in his entire life (and that is perhaps his biggest punishment). love.

the chase was breath taking. this was serious, ipk was struck by junoon, that passion you point us toward today, anjali. it would change the dimensions of its medium. in script, screenplay, dialogue, music, editing, direction, and of course, acting.

there were bloopers, shoes changed mid run, (even in the episode before "what if i lost you" the shoes had done a flip from fake hermes to trainers), goon count was a bit haywire (kitne aadmi the? hume to laga 5 phir 7 phir 6 phir 4, perhaps there are clues hidden in the numbers hehe), sudden speeding up of shyam's car and leaving the rest far far behind. yeah, little gadbads here and there.

but in the larger scheme of things, they were really nothing. i have to give major respect to the makers of my daily soap. again i remember: but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for.
the makers here are going for heaven amid all the earthly struggles of their creative product. they are also hijacking my breath along the way. but please please throw my breath in that black jeep next to that man with the stylishly flying hair and the fabulously determined/worried killer expression.

hold your thoughts. she is lying there right across the path, hands and feet bound, gagged. just look at those eyes speaking, no screaming! it was her silent scream that made him swerve i'm certain. sanaya irani takes her performance yet another rung higher. how much talent is there in that slight girl with flowing limbs!!

if we sat down to count the number of expressions on barun's face from the time he burst out of his prison to the end of the episode, i fear we'd be here a little longer than forever. during his noreen khan interview he's praised tom hanks with doing stuff that seems undoable, maybe that's his benchmark, don't know. but whoa! never seen anything like this before. the day the boy stepped out of that helicopter, jaw clenched, steel in eyes, you could sense this was going to be a different flight. how different, i am now only beginning to gauge.

fluid, dance like battle with jagged breaks into nasty, street fight. masterfully directed. he must save her, no matter what. can you imagine the same guy let her go so casually from his office to the lower floor that day somewhere last august i think? zoha points this out in a beautiful post in the forum. today finally i forgave arnav singh raizada that extreme callousness of his. a loop closed by shatir creatives?

echoing the moves, a haunting medley of music: love and death combine in the rabba ve based background score, he is back sings the sure segue to asr's signature thrills, dhisshum dhishum, "chor de usse, i said let her go," and he watches her at gunpoint, lallan leering next her. the vultures move in, excruciating pain will be delivered as there's no fear of retaliation. kick, box, slap, he's flung from end to end, she watches helpless, a pleading and pain-filled female voice joins in the entreaty to rabba,

with a furious (gosh what expression) look at the harianvi hazard, khushi frees her arm and runs toward him, only to be jerked back and lose her balance, falling backward, further backward, toward the precipice.

arnav ji!
a terrified look.
a flutter of blue dupatta.
he turns.
quiet everywhere, a mournful melody haltingly makes its way through a cascade of beautiful scenes from their life.
she falls into his arms that very first time.
she is falling.
he snatches her out of harm's way and hugs her in the rain.
she accidentally bangs against him, earring caught in his jacket.
he winds the bandage round and round on her ring finger before the temple, it is the sacred hour.
dust in her eyes, gently so gently he rubs it away.
payal by the poolside.
her foot goes over the edge... arnav ji!
he puts the mangalsutra around her neck.
the homa fire blazes.
he is putting the sindoor on her parting.
fire.
rabba vey fades in, looking up above the mortal world with a single call of two words from the heart.
he has put the sindoor.
she falls.
the dupatta again.
khushi!

mesmerised, i watched. so much in that sequence. from hate to love, from romance to passion. from this world to the next. from arnavji to khushi, and back. the ocean and his shore, both flowing and ebbing toward and away. i feel somewhere along the way he and she have started to become both ocean and shore. and the pearl rests within both. weird thoughts, but had to say it.

the dupatta and the untold stories in its folds, from that very first hour always there. how it knew what they would know slowly ever so slowly, how it lingered over his face in a dargah, got caught in his buttons, fluttered on to his face, got torn and left behind on his car, it was everywhere. even now. now it fell as she disappeared from his sight. rabba ve.

before she leapt that morning of the suicide, the last thought in her mind, him putting mangalsutra and sindoor on her. his wife, she was his wife. no matter how supposedly fake their marriage.
and now again, that is the exact last picture to flash in his mind. my wife, you are my patni, mine.

hamesha is an instant when you love.

ok i am getting carried away, i said as much. and no apologies, this episode deserved nothing less.

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 10 years ago

#154

episode 288

i posted this on the forum, soon after the episode was aired... have posted it on blast before... but this seems the right place post it, so here goes.

this is not FUNNY... 10 minutes on 3 july 2012

the first almost 10-minute sequence of the 3rd july episode was one of the most beautiful i've ever seen anywhere. we all remember arnav frantically looking for khushi, finding her, and bringing her back to consciousness. i was fascinated by everything in that scene, including what was said, with words and otherwise.

for diehard ipkkndians, here's the text of arnav's dialogues on that day. much laughter has been shared over how many times he said "khushi". i think i managed to catch all of them. count if you are a stats freak. just read if you wish to go over those moments again.

right at the end he says something very interesting. no need to say anything.

starting second sequence of 3rd july till last evening, 5th july, that's what he's been doing: not saying anything. or is he actually saying everything without uttering a word?

in these words of 3rd july lie the roots of many things we'll be seeing from now on, i feel. so, a ready reference. enjoy.

khushi!
khushiii!
khushi!
khushii!

he's looking for her scanning the ledge and the trench.
pause, he sees her.

smiles and makes his way to her:
khushi!!

rabba ve enters as he reaches her.
khushi, khushi, everything is fine... khushi! sab theek hai.

he gathers her close and draws her away from the slope.
rabba vey under.
cut to shyam's call.
back to asr and khushi on level ground.
he checks to see if she's alright, notices her hand lying limp.
guest house flashback, nainital flashback, remembers how she's always held on to him even while unconscious, and now her hand is motionless.

khushi... khushi... khushi... khushi, don't worry, sab theek hai, khushi... everything is fine (shaking her gently) main bhi theek hoon... we're safe now, khushi.

looks at her face, perplexed, worried sick.
khushi, tum kuch bolti kyon nahin... (voice thickening)... khushi, say something, dammit!

growing urgency, shakes her face.
khushi... what... khushi, baat karo mujhse... (voice rising with an edge of anger born of extreme worry) khushi, say something!
khushi!! khushi! khushi.
crash of thunder, music, he sees blood on his hands from the back of her head.

khushi! khushi! khushi, talk to me dammit! this is not FUNNY!
lifts her hand and starts rubbing it.
khushi, kuch bolo!! say something... please say something, khushi, khush-!
her hand falls to the floor, lifeless. crash.
he's nonplussed. mournful music strains in. he's beginning to panic, close to tears. looking at her face, imploring.
please kuch bolo na, please say something dammit, KHUSHI!
looks at her face cradled in his hand. hugs her to him, crying.
looks at her again.
khushi, khushi, wake up please.
pleads.
checks to see if she's breathing, hand below her nostrils. nothing.
noooh... apni ankhen kholo, khushi please please... just breathe... just breathe, khushi... i'm telling YOU TO BREATHE DAMMIT!

lays her on the ground, starts pumping her chest.
tearful.
khushi, wake up, please.
flashback, only voiceover, then visual:
khushi: phir aapke zindagi ki sabse achhi aur ranjhe ki zindagi ki sabsi buri ghadi ayegi.
arnav: matlab?
khushi: hum mar jayenge.

he starts and shudders at the memory of the heer ranjha scene.
pumps with determination.
khushi! khushi, wake up dammit.
voice wobbles even as he tries to stay in control.
khushi, say something to me...kh..

another memory in voice only this time:
khushi: samajhiye hum bhi tara bangaye... raat mein daayen se tisra, jo sabse zyada chamak raha hai, wo hum hai.

he keeps pumping.
no khushi, you can't do this to me, khushi.

he won't let her go, she can't just die. mouth to mouth resuscitation. no use. he is desperate. in ragged whisper.
khushi, please say something.
strokes her face.
khushi, please say something.
pulls her face close and in tears, eyes shut, presses his lips to her forehead.
looks at her face tenderly.

voice thickening with tears and emotion:
khushi please, please khushi... khushi, mai tumhare b-!
he cuts short the bad bad thought.
tum mere sath aisa nahin kar sakti, khushi.

he's wilting under the weight of the horrific thought.
sobs... khushi... don't, you can't do this... sobs

remembers at the poolside he's told her that day of holi:
jab tum meri paas hoti ho, to tumhare dil ki dhadkano ke saath saath mere dil ki dhadkane bhi tez ho jaati hai... hamari dhadkane ek ho jaati hai.
he lifts her hand and places it on his heart. holding her close he rests his head against her sobbing.
heart beats fade in dhak dhak dhak dhak. her fingers flutter, he is unaware.
tearful:
khushi...
hm! she says!
his eyes fly open.
hey hay heyheyhey rabba vey.
he looks at her, she coughs, breathing in, he wraps her in his arms. hugs her close, gently rocking.
strokes her hair and looks into her face.
tears choke his voice.
you- (i think that's what he said)
she tries to speak: arn-av-j-
he cuts in:
sh! sh! kuch bolne ki zaroorat nahin hai.

after this, there's not a single word spoken.

she lifts her hand and strokes his tear and blood stained cheek. he turns her palm and puts his lips to it, a joy filled kiss. tender and sweet. again he turns her face and kisses her forehead. music floats around them.
he folds her in his arms again, smiling delighted that she is here, here in his arms and alive.
rabba vey.
they just sit holding each other close, taking in the moment, one with the hills, greens, trees, sky. temple in the background.
rabba vey plays on.
he gets up, places her dupatta on her shoulders. she struggles to stand up, he moves to pick her up.
her fingers reach up to hold his vest.
a beautiful moment as he sees this. she is doing what she's always done, even when unconscious.
he is absolutely ecstatic, turns and smiles into her eyes.
he picks her up in his arms, they look at each other, a pause, he smiles, then starts walking.
he walks with her in his arms as he has done many times before.
she snuggles there easy, he is tall and strong and striding confidently, her dupatta floats, the temple looks on.

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 10 years ago

#155

bftp #30 post two. wrote this first on facebook even blast from the best after watching the trapping and bullying of 81 again.

just wanted to say something about this business of pyaar.

i know everyone wants it to be politically right, done and shown a certain way, we see shows that seem to present the "right" way of loving... and definitely a man trapping, pulling, dragging a girl is out as far as socially acceptable love is concerned.

and yet, when these things happened in ipk, i couldn't help but feel the roiling throbbing real emotions in those moments. i could also not say these things don't happen. nor could i say, if this happens you need to walk out on the whole relationship.

fighting, yelling, getting a little, no a lot, out of control i have come to know to be part of deep emotion. especially love. there are people who by disposition are calm and they will express and experience love with the extent and boundaries of their nature. then there are more naturally ebullient people, such as myself. but i think anyone, if they really feel this emotion, will be touched by it and moved to do things they normally may never do.

it's been more than thirty three years since i fell in love madly with a young man. he was handsome, funny, totally exciting, and he had this crazy upbeat view of life that carried me away. this december it will be thirty years since we married.

when i see asr and khushi fight and take things to extremes at times. when i see them err... both of them... and then come back to each other, i am so reminded of my life, my love.

there is an inherent tension in utter love. if there weren't, poetry, literature, art would not be devoted to it.

if you love someone you just may overstep boundaries.

and when you do, if it is love, it's call will get to you, catch you, bring you back... and even make you consider your actions with deep honesty. you may be able to modify certain things as the love fills you... some things though will remain... part of nature. part of your love story.

your lover will make the decision to live with it or not. as will you.

there has been a lot of hurting and forgiveness and feeling and heartache in my years with this feeling. many things have not been politically correct...

but i have known in my heart this is love. that was all i needed to know at times.

ipk touched the nature of this emotion. not in pretty scenes always, but it got the feeling like very few things i have seen have. there was a sensing of the effects of this hard to describe emotion, how it descends from nowhere and yanks you in, takes over your mind and strikes your heart.

and it rejoiced in this feeling, honouring it.

i can see khushi and asr thirty years from now... they will still be doing nok jhok and at times clashing wildly. ask either of them to change even one line of there love story, they'll possibly yell... pagal ho gayi ho kya.

okay, maybe that whole achhi bahu part khushi will ask for a little real kkg elements to be brought in there, asr may say enough smiling dammit! but even if you don't change a thing and let it be exactly as it is, they'd still be there years on... asr khushi and a girl falling into a man's arms one lit up evening, hamesha.

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 10 years ago

#156

bftp #30 second post... episode 370 and a question important. how do yopu like your paan?

aap bhi na, baankelal ji! bade woh ho.

paanwale all set to le jao jalebiya. is arnav ji prepared for battle?

in the coming episodes, meet khushi ji and her purana chakkar.

but why did khushi ji prefer arnav ji over baankelal ji?

could it be because apart from suddenly discovering that his lean mean hotness and dark penetrating brown eyed stares/glares revved her from haule haule to dhak dhak in no tiime, khushi ji also felt arnav ji regarded her as something almost no one ever did?

he leveled with her and looked upon her as a person.

not bitiya, bahuriya, behena, biwi... but as that what he always called her.

khushi.

usska ek naam hai. and he also refused to let her hide behind any "role" as such, especially that of the "good girl". always challenging her, pushing her,
almost goading her to find out more about who she was, be everything she could be.

oh it wasn't always rosy and pretty...
aap bhi na, arnav ji! bade what the ho.

he was nasty as hell, a miracle she withstood that in your face, male, mocking,
most obnoxious behaviour. but she did. and he had to notice the rhythm of his heart, his longings, his faraq. even while he plied her with,

alas, not juicy meetha paan

but fresh sweet red and bleeding heartache that, sitting in his nukkad in shantivan, only he could make so perfectly... especially that "shadi kar raha hai" and "shadi karni hogi" with the added flavour of "koi matlab nahin" and "faraq padta ha kyunki". oh he found

in chhai maheene, six months, more than barah tareeke ke,

twelve kinds of heartache. after this marathon wooing, khushi ji had to say no to her purana chakkar "moochhon se bhara chehra" and accept the perfect stubble as her pati on whom she had haq.

in the mean time the story became "meant nothing" to the story tellers.

yet arnav ji and khushi ji never forgot their rangeen kal, colourful yesterday. when i see certain scenes from what's coming up, i still sigh and reach for a paan. this one up there was so perfect amid the sheetal slush. that fight between them at diwali: takes akal, himmat and confidence which you don't have... i know it's designed to take us to mrs india ugh, but arnav ji and khushi ji couldn't care less, they were being absolute lovers. delightful.

she found him a new name beginning with k too.
kurram khan.

at karwa chauth the tycoon gave her, no not diamonds, but a company,
just in case he isn't around she must never have to depend on anyone. he called her the coolest person he knew and meant it. she fretted about being fat, he said she was... and then said put on some more weight... there were many times i wanted to cry or laugh or giggle the way i always had at ipk and moments where i could see the relationship clearly grow, both these cool people finding their way into a chakkar that is forever.

jalebi making became a metaphor for something no paan could ever hope to be.

i am so glad khushi ji chose arnav ji, maybe baankelal ji will have some time for me now.

Edited by indi52 - 10 years ago

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kizh72

@kizh72

Voyager

Posted: 10 years ago

#157

Ok that second edit of a man in orange looking at a girl has me feeling all sorts of unholy thoughts!😆 How do you manage to capture those moments? Yeah, the story is going down hill but we do get these gems in between.

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 10 years ago

#158

hi kizh,

good to see you... tum theek ho? how do i get those shots? as i am about to die, my hands go into auto pilot and hit pause. real abs gems in between. so much one could see there...

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 10 years ago

#159

episode 97

texture created by katelyn arshi.

an inexplicable tear drop, forming and rolling down a smooth unlined cheek. and now an exploding anger, equally difficult to explain, its force definitely disproportionate. even she thinks so, but he doesn't care. if the tear of 88 was beautiful and neither khushi could understand it nor asr fathom its cause, the mad rage of 97 is equally fabulous. both of these, breathtaking signs of jeopardy... of a feeling unstoppable... of the march of an emotion over two people as yet not at all aware of its advent and occupation. if i use war words its because it was really an onslaught, as a feeling ambushed the ones who would be held forever captive, the only thing that would at last free them. i know i am getting carried away, but both these scenes were crafted with ingenuity, and tell a story of love so poignantly and forcefully.

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 10 years ago

#160

episode 97

it suddenly struck me that 97 created a beautiful side story. as shyam finally made a strike on khushi's father, her protector as it were, and brought him down... on the other side rose a man in intense anger, almost as ugly an expression on his face as shyams's, to protect khushi. if anyone should touch her, dare to transgress thus, they'd have to face his wrath. he won't let anything happen to her.

her father lay on the ground, completely helpless... as if devi maiyya had devised it, at that moment arnav singh raizada moved unhesitatingly forward to become her protector, her shield.

two fight sequences, both nasty in their way and violent. one was all about lust and evil. the other only about love and the positive force.

i really enjoyed the writing and the thinking behind this. i have problems with patriarchy and i don't think only men protect, but they also do, as do women... and here a nice twist in story telling.

the nainital trip is one that will take us on many journeys and cross unexpected milestones. it will show us the way to diwali and beyond.

abhaas mehta was chilling i thought in that terrible sequence. the ladies of the gupta house so very natural in their reaction to the sight of shashi gupta lying on the floor. of course barun and sanaya and the thugs were captivating.

everything felt real somehow, there was such heart in acting and the telling of this tale.