Blast from the Past Thread #9, pg 105, ep 108 - Page 54

Originally posted by: indi52

episode 94... prologue

finallly, she is ready to hold his hand and get out.

but was she ready to get propelled straight up to him, almost in his arms, her arms holding him involuntarily for balance... ah what physics... a spot of heady momentum.

was she ready to feel that crazy feeling at his closeness or he at hers? you can yell and shout and insult each other, you can irritate each other, call each other names, but can you deny the shiver up your spine at a certain nearness, the goosebump at the back of your ears, and oh that dhakdhak. Oooh, now I'm having dhak dhaks.

from the top

the "khushi" that grazed against his throat as it came out was strangely soft and brimming with fear replacing irritation, in his hand a piece of sparkling blue glass, a broken bit of a bangle she had been wearing. the woods seem to close in around him, where was she? those "janglee janwar" wild animals she had sauid she was trying to fool with her prattle, had they...?

"khushiii" a wild leap in his voice, a bit of anger in it and that fear. do you hear me, it's not funny, where are you where are you, a panic series opf questions trailed it in silence. of course, that's exactly when director said cut, editor switched to shyam and his shenanigans.

babuji asked shyam a tricky question about the third of march. what's this date on your driving license if you and khushi share the same birthday? akash met payal at the door, gentle music played. his heart lifted and his eyes said as much. his mother spied the two and with mother's instinct kicking in, she had to immediately dislike the tension of the man woman sort in the air around her son. "phatti saree part two!" Phati saree part two is gonna get a new name pretty soon. shrieked the sweet subtle sophisticated... not, manorama. but akash ignored mother and decided his extremely urgent work for which he was rushing out and was therefore at the door, could wait till bhai reached nainital. oh the flutters of new love. and yuck the falsities of an old decrepit liar. shyam said he'd lied... what? music went up, three concerned faces stared at him, i thought the typical serial moment of repeated close ups would hit us next. 😆

thankfully, editor decided otherwise. shyam said he had to, because he was so sharp for his years that his age had to be tinkered with somewhat to get into schhol. what school was this, sss shyam? school for scoundrels? oh well. two faces cleared instantly at this explanation, but babuji was far from convinced, growing even more suspicious and letting his thought spill into his tone when he averred, yes indeed, shyam was clever, very clever.

deciding that the viewer was just at the right point of tension, director returned us to the jungle.

"khushiii."

"kahan dhoondhoo isse, dammit." where shall i search for her now, dammit. on that sexy dammit he hurled all his worry and panic. of course, the gritted teeth, the gritty voice, had certain viewers in a bit of astate.

"arnavji..." her voice all of a sudden from somewhere, and quite calm and matter of fact at that. i enjoyed this craft in it. the contrast between the tones of the two voices... one growing ever more panicky, the other completely normal, about to say something most everyday. That's right. Good observation.

Lovely collage.
his face changed. a bit dumbfounded.

"time kya hua hai, arnavji?" what's the time, asked the lady of the cool voice.

"what!!!" who could blame the guy for sounding nonplussed. time? huh? here he was imagining a girl lost perhaps for ever, and now she asks what's the time?

if five minutes are over, i want to tell you, i have fallen into this ditch right behind you. he whirls around seeking her with his eyes, jaws clenching with the anger that rides behind relief (they say the eskimos have hundreds of words for snow because it is such a part of their existence, anger is an integral part of asr, he expresses so many many emotions through it, with it, and somehow it's always around, his gussa, right on his nose, as his mother wrote, and who knows you better than your mom). Very well written.

as he looks at her and his eyes glare, i am all set for fireworks.

then, just like that mysterious vanish of khushi's, the anger melts away, leaving behind flowing emotion. in it a concern most crucial, the sort of feeling you have about someone who does make a difference.

his voice drops, urgency in it, a rush, "khush- tumhe chot toh nahin lagi?" khush... no he needs to just ask her this first, you're not hurt are you.

every time i have watched this scene, my heart has felt a thud and a falling sensation. tell me this is not good acting.

cute shake of head, in reply, from the girl in the ditch, who has to be threatened with salary cut for her to shut up. maybe that concern touched her somewhere? so for a second she was just a girl, looking at a boy, who had lots of warm flowy something in his eyes for her. and she didn't need to talk? ya something in his eyes, but what is that thing she has yet to get that.

was her constant prattle also another sign of the worries that sat in her at times? That is a most likely.

i had no time to consider this, because then came the asr anger. first a botched up trip, a girl friend acting irresponsibly, all the hassles of the road, the extreme panic a moment ago, now this sight. girl sitting nonchalant in a pit, completely calm. 😆 That's right. How comfortably she is sitting, as if after a long walk, she's got a place to sit.

he shouted. looking for you for so long, couldn't you reply earlier... "paagalon ki tarah dhoond raha hoon." searching for you madly. my stomach is in cleaving somersaults. why why are you looking for her madly, and why is your voice softening like that. So, is this the 3rd time he's searching for her madly? The other two being guesthouse night and Janmashtami night.

she was of course saving her salary. well half of it, sizeable amount.

"you're impossible, khushi kumari gupta!"

"niklo bahar!" come out of there, a brusque command.

"achha agar khud nikal sakte toh idhar baithe rahte kya, yeh bhi toh caaman sense hui na," oh, if i could come out by myself, would i be sitting here, this is "caaman sense" isn't it. Good point, Madam KKG ji.

at the "khushi" english, again his heart lightens, a change in music. sanaya is so refreshing and without a trace of guile here. maybe khushi is a bit winded, and wants to appear super cool. very khushi that would be. and which is why her break down holding him tight just six episodes and a day down would be as much a sign of all that he means to her.

he stands with his arm stretched out, waiting for her to climb out. first come the mojris, then pakoda box, he can't take it. while she dusts the slippers with a little moue and slips them on, the container of deep fried goodies gets a royal treatment and gets placed withcare on the edge of the pit. 😆

finally, she is ready, and lets him pull her up and out. but she wasn't really ready for all that would lead to, was she? all that dhakdhak, that nearness that stops her breath... that stops his breath... that...

but that must be the pakoda, na? acidity? caaman sense, isn't it.

she's embarrassed, he too.
she sees dust on his jacket... eyes widen, he's puzzled she goes to dust it off quickly, then again awkwardness. delightful. though i keep thinking crying over what's done is pointless, there are moments when i miss this jodi and wonder if i'll ever see such powerful attraction onscreen again. and feel their acidity right in me. Same here, Indi.

"do ulta ek seedhe..." payal explains the basic stitch of chikakari to la, as the scene shifts again. two back and one forward. is that how the asr khushi affair will progress, i wonder Hey, good catch!

akash uses the the newspaper again as a prop to peer at someone. this time it's the one his heart beats for. she also seems to have some feelings. thanks to the ever helpful la, payal steps on a needle and akash leaps to her rescue, carrying her in his arms, alarmed at the sight of blood on her foot. but before this can lead to dhakdhak attack, there's mami assault, and the name "khoon bhari tang" takes birth. has anyone seen the movie khoon bhari mang that inspired our dear hello hi bye bye? particularly gruesome that was. and somehow the man who threw his devoted wife to hungry crocodiles reminds me of shyam, who made his pregnant loving ife walk on glass then slide electrocuted her to make her miscarry. the level of gore and horror was the same in both cases. or maybe it was more here. were the writers hinting at this all along. i used to hate that khoon bhari tang much more than phatti saree. it kept reminding me of that terrible movie. Oh yes, that really was a gruesome movie, especially the crocodile scene. Felt very bad for the kids in the movie.

anyway, lavanya has kindly made sure that both sisters are with the men meant for them, bless the girl. and khushi is wiggling and wrigling all over the place.

what's up khushi. seems something in her clothes, she rushes to the public loo right across the road outside the wood. ha ha, in india? ah well, poetic licence. and not, she hands him her dabba very carefully before running off.

"kar kya rahi hai yeh ladki," what's this girl doing,asks impatient gorgeous man.

creatives play with us. cut to rm. finally akash speaks. wow. he steals bhai's line though... i'm really really sorry, payalji. anjali shows her stern side when she insists payal stay back for tea, despite mami's obvious disapproval. therew as steel in anjali too, that might have been used to crush a snake.

"chor chor, hamare kapde leke bhag gaya, chor..." thief! thief! ran away with my clothes, shouts the girl that makes asr wait.

and a swirl of dupatta, gauzy, orange, colours of sunrise. a face radiant against these shades.

Loved that scene and love this shot too.

he is hit hard . hey hey, energy ripples across rabba bey... this is instant attraction... desire simmering... like the night of the red sari, now the day of the rising sun.

as the vision approaces shouting "chor chor" he watches... yes there's been a thief around here. who might that be. and what's been stolen.

"woh, asal mein hamare kapde chori ho gaye," woh, actually, my clothes got filched.

"yeh sirf tumhare saath hi ho sakta hai," this can only happen to you. now anger is being used as a recovery tool. from gobsmacked to in command it carries my sweet man.

"haan, pata nai kyun," yes, don't know why. another incorrigible khushi answer.

then more talk. let's go to that dhaba down the road, the poster was in the loo... "ek punjabi thaali pe ek phone call bilkul phree," for one punjabi thali meal, one phone call free"... he is losing it ... "achha ab dus minute ke liye hum kuch nahin bolenge, pukka" ok, now won't speak for ten minutes, promise. she was silent at the top and now back to it we come. he is staring at her helpless, what do you do with a girl like this, how do you solve a problem like maria?

but the breeze rose just then and blew her dupatta to the ground.

and so much rushed into the moment again. Uff...

Originally posted by: indi52

durga,

thanks for reading 94, 95 back to back. hope the reading not too long winded. love your comments. glad to hear you are getting dhakdhaks reading things. happens to me while reading fan fiction which i do only once in a way. no matter how not too fabulous the tale may be, whenever a certain pitch is struck in the asr khushi interaction, i feel this crazy grazing/grating thing in the area i presume my heart is. this i can tell you with guarantee has never happened before.

thanks for liking my edits. i am pretty new at this, and very unsure of myself. but i feel like doing it, so i do. very happy to hear you like them so much.

the flowy thing in him, isn't it gorgeous. and she is sort of sensing it, has no real idea as to what it might be. interesting as hell. only after the besan scene and enjoying watching him laugh, i wish she'd realised a little bit of the reason for dhakdhak. no matter, i am happy to get acidity along with them.

Originally posted by: indi52

honeymoon trail
episodes 96/97/98

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"aur agar shaadi aaj hui hai, toh suhaag raat bhi aaj hi hogi na?" so if the marriage took place today, the suhaag raat must also happen tonight, right? khushi had not remembered how shatir the hungry angry young man could be. what?!!! wedding night? auntyjiii unclejiii...oh yeah that did it!

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

there in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, he let his anger take over... "shhh!" he spat out. peremptory. at the end of tether. Just loved how he did that. CHUUP! SHHH!!!

you started the drama, i'll end it. today you've crossed all limits... before i wake up tomorrow morning, disappear from here. i don't give a damn. and he left her alone in the room and walked off to get some sleep in a comfortable bed. I was sad that he left her alone in the dark but his anger was too intense for anything else.

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

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

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

where is she. It is horrible to see how anger can blind and cloud all forms of rational thought.

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

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

everybody.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

shashi gupta knows the truth.

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

97

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

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

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

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

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

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

why do i feel at this moment, he knew, he knew exactly what was going on, within both of them. He got his hunch. It feels good to him knowing she cares.

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

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

and the jeep with wild people arrives.

asr and khushi confront the goondas. babuji confronts shyam.

right versus wrong... pure versus evil. Brilliant!!!

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

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

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

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

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

98

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

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

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

not a word.

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

"dekhiye aap kuch toh boliye... hum jaante hain ki humne aapko bahut pareshaan kiya, lekin aap kuchh bol nahin rahe hain toh hume kuchh ajeeb sa lag raha hai... (ajeeb, again that word, it is the defining word for the nature of their love story, along with hamesha and vishwaas and dammit maybe?) waise toh aap hamesha hume daant-te hain, chillate hain, hume apni aukat ki yaad dilate hain...waise kariye na. iss tarah aap ko chup baith-te hue humne kabhi dekha nahin hain..."

look, please say something... i know i have driven you crazy, but you're not talking and that feels so strange... otherwise you scold me, shout, (and then remembering, she adds with enthusiasm), remind me of my status... why don't you do all that. i've never seen you sit quietly like this...

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

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

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

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

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

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

"get... out."

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

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

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

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

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

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

96/97/98

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