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indi52

@indi52

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Posted: 9 years ago

ipk is a classic... no doubt about that really. there are moments there never seen on practically any medium before. unique. pulsating. alive. unforgettable. here i am putting together all my ramblings in blast from the past on one of the finest periods in ipk. holi. 12 to 16 march 2012. episodes 206 to 210. there have been many other such wonder times in iss pyaar ko kya naam doon?. i suddenly saw all that i'd written for holi and missed the time we could run to our television every day and wait to be totally taken over. colour every single day. riot of hues, stunning shades, simmering tones. hope you enjoy the traipse through ramanchi land. all my edits and the five episode takes here. might be too much to read, but enjoy teh edits and collages.

and spread the rang... do leave your thoughts behind.

12 march, what a morning. waking up or was it
awakening or was it just pure right paagal kaala.

"yahan hum dono ke elava aur koi nahin hai... phir aapne kyun...," she asked, she so needed to know. why did you pretend to care, there's no one around. "kyunki tumhara dimaag jo pehle se hi itna kharab hai, usse aur kharab nahin hone de sakte." because you're already damaged in the head, can't let it get any worse. harsh words streaked with vermillion love. to arshad, the real maker of colour. 12 march 2011, holi.

holi had a colour all its own, this is still the 12th of march. how awfully absolutely tender our man, and sweetly confused, just a little hopeful, our jhalli. aisa kyun hota hai.

holi, march 14, almost every scene in this episode is worth a mini heart attack

here are some lovely posts from the thread

inspired soul talks romance
https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/109621260

arshihamesha on the haq and love of holi
https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/post/109447116

Edited by indi52 - 9 years ago

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indi52

@indi52

IF-Sizzlerz

+ 6

Posted: 9 years ago

what's your colour: episode 206

holi morning is here.

khushi in her true crazy self, sanka, is talking in her sleep. i am looking at the girl sleeping by the poolside, blissfully unhampered by her predicament, planning fun merrily even in her sleep. so very endearing.

and if i may say, so damn needed.

as our world standardizes and loses flavour and colour, as all of us are so busy being "right", being perceived as being correct all the time. as how we are seen becomes more important than who and how we are... as we lose touch with ourselves, i know i sound doomy and gloomy, but posturing and being perceived a way rather than being who we really are is entering our genes sometimes i fear...

the image above all else.

in this world, i think we really need a khushi. so very human. she would have charmed a whole cave, men would refuse to go hunting and gathering i bet.

a little nutty. not always right. fighter, spirited, heart in the right place. head sharp enough but always somewhat floaty, kyunki tumhara dimaag jo pehle se hi itna kharab hai... because your brain which is damaged already, can't let it get damaged any more. only she could have gotten a man to feel so giddily and utterly tender and loving, even when he thought she was christine keeler's guru, home wrecker, lying conniving bad five letter word.

but that screw loose brain of hers and that never wrong heart of hers, that had him feeling stuff no one could make him feel.

essential to khushi this crazy clean quotient. essential it is to asr falling for her too. this used to touch him. this was believable... every time. that a hardened man would suddenly respond to this character... there was spike in her. needed if one is to cleave that thick faraq nahin padta fortress and break down barriers of mistrust and cynicism. her aap shut ups, her crazy oh i didn't get orange juice that's why, her sitting quiet in a ditch counting the minutes, her popping out of cupboards, her chakki pisseeeng. all made a mark. and her innocence, her cleanness of heart. he could never fight that. her clear eyed fact facing, her gutsiness.

if she were just a sweet "good" girl he might have felt protective toward her but he wouldn't have fallen for her, gorgeous head over sexy heels. lagi shart?

as the scene unfolds i am thinking, she tries to find her own way through things. even hell. in minutes from now: hamare saath jo bhi ho raha hai, whatever is happening with me right, today they will get resolved. an upbeat, let me take you on life attitude. i like.

and she is instinctive. not always thinking with her grey matter, but thinking with her heart and gut. this is valuable. we are losing this all around us. too much of so called rational thinking, too little of dil.

i can't explain how much it hurt when it was decided it was okay to let this lovely character go and become "good".

"uthja khushi aaj holi hai... kitna kuchh karna hai," get up khushi today is holi... there's so much to do.

she talks away.

he awakens.

"thandai... tel lagana hai..." must make thandai... have to put oil...

"rang? sabke liye rang bhi toh kharidne hai..." colour? must buy colour for everyone. she laughs.

"what the..." he is grouchy. they both are in such an impossible situation. maybe sleep is the only time when there's respite from a most painful reality.

"amma babu ji ke liye hara," green for amma and babu ji, declares holi girl.

he's listening..

"bua ji ke liye sandhi... jiji ke liye neela, devi maiyya ke liye laal," buaji has a colour (i don't know what that word means), payal will get blue and dm gets red. ah so she is thinking of dm, though she as we know is not talking to her. yeah, what the, just because you're god, don't think i have to be nice to you... in fact i hate you. you have done this to me. so asr hates kkg who hates dm. something so natural in that anger against her goddess whom she loves and trusts with everything.

in the bedroom, he is getting lost in this thing as he realises what's happening.

"aur hamara? hmm..." and mine? hmm.

he begins to smile. hansa toh phansa, i think... smile and you're caught.

"hamara rang hoga.. peela!" my colour will be yellow.

he's melted.

holi hai! she wakes up laughing, happy, all woes forgotten.

a very husky "paagal" as sanka realises where she is...

he must have been so happy to see her as she really is after so so long. he goes back to bed.

creatives always used the festivals well. never too heavy handed, somewhere using the essence of each occasion to take the story further. forgiving and forgetting is a part of holi. also if i am not mistaken. with the burning of holika it's as if the past mistakes are driven away, making way for the new, the future. plus of course this is the beginning of spring. winter's chill clears and makes way for sunshine. for birth and rebirth.

"kyunki bura na maano holi hai" don't mind, it's holi! khushi yells out the familiar holi call.

"shut up, khushi!"

back to nasty... for effect, bas.

"unbelievable!"

"kisse baat kar rahi ho tum?" who are you talking to?

"khud se, aur kisse!" to myself, who else.

i feel for asr. khadoos humourless man, always carrying the burden of the world on his perfect shoulders... poor baby. what does he know of sublime sanak.

"paagal ho gayi ho kya?" have you gone mad?

she smiles, "bachpan se," from childhood.

weird almost besotted grimace, "right."

"aap ko pata nahin tha?" you didn't know? she pushes. she wants something from him alright... because she knows her heart trips madly when he's around even though he has been so utterly mean and awful.

he is dying to laugh. how can you hate such a lunatic?

"aap ke liye rang chunne mein bilkul bhi waqt nahin laga, aap ko pata hai kaunsa? kala." took no time to choose a colour for you, she teases, black.

he is ready to hit her.

she runs off on a giggle, he gets up on a snarl, but his eyes, they just want her. so much.

a most poignant moment comes later, when he lowers himself to her level as she searches for her coins under the bed. and then just has to reach out and protect her head when she is about to bang it on the edge of the bed. to perfect this scene, there's humour, gussa, and all those things they say with their eyes which you can feel even when you aren't watching, just remembering them.

isn't that how love should be?

she breaks her gullak, piggy bank, after apologising to it, of course. she was collecting money for a gotewala saree when she turned 25? aw, buy the girl one of those right now, i say.

she drops some coins on the floor.

crawls and checks under the bed.

he walks in on cue, lost in a file. steps on piggy bank bits.

picks up piece... what?

sees her, head thrust under bed.

sits down by her... staring... what now. there's this gentle quizzical air about him. something so delicate in this frame.

she comes up jubilant with a coin, sees him and her smile freezes. a touch of comedy all through, but a deep tenderness in all of it too.

"toh tum mujhse chhup rahi thi..." so you were hiding from me. he is obviously flummoxed by this ostrich behaviour.

"haan?"

indeed.

"kyunki tum shayad haar gayi," maybe because you lost so you are embarrassed.

nothing like that, she explains about the coins and dives back under the bed to retrieve coins.

his hand stretches out to shield her from getting hurt.

she looks back at his hand, heart stopping pause.

"tum koi kaam theek se nahin kar sakti kya? sar par chot lag jaati toh?" can't you do anything right? if you'd hurt your head?

he has to yell. concern, love, his own awkwardness at all his crazy feelings.

she's surprised... as she comes up, rabba vey fades in.

he looks at her, she is helpless in the surge of an unknown feeling that has just walked in uninvited.

he turns away, withdraws his hand, seeks his anger, his "couldn't care less", "faraq nahin padta".

she fixes her dupatta, looking down, a bit lost... touching her confusion, her yearning for what she thought might happen between them. he looks at her.

then she asks a khushi like question, there's no one here other than us, then why did you do that?

he cuts in, a rough edge to his voice, a need to shut her up, because the real answer he just can't give, "kyunki tumhara dimaag jo pehle se hi itna kharaab hai, usse aur kharab nahin hone de sakte."

sounded like i adore you, i want you so bad, i can't let you be alone any more.

and her gaze and words seemed to say, if you like me so much why are you avoiding me.

one could only sigh and just keep staring at the two. so much tenderness and longing, all communicated through the eyes, and little notes in the voice.

then came the lovely encounter over 300 rupees.

"aap ke bhasha mein kya kahte hain... loan," what do you cal it in your language... loan. said she, all perky and i can crack this problem like.

"oh, loan," the look on his face.

her "busines business khelna" and little promissory note, followed by his resigned, "thank you," were just too good.

"ladki mujhe pagal kar degi," the girl will drive me mad he muttered, sounded as though he invited the predicament with open arms.

where did they find this tenderness?

that was his colour today surely.

where are these guys.

nani ji is upset. her holi box with pichkari waits. no doubt khushi who talks to goats seriously will find a way to appease her.

episode opened on snake and the one he has charmed... anjali. every word of hers riled him. he was going to do something about khushi ji. and finally he walked in wearing white, kaala of heart, red on his hand.

apparently he will be the first to put colour on khushi. she froze, then found a way to vanish in the nick of time. but not before two very angry eyes had seen the whole thing. eyes that turn to puddles when she does crazy things. eyes she can't look into and not feel her heart race. but for now, his gaze is fixed on a cretin. gussa reddens the air. let's play holi. Edited by indi52 - 9 years ago

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indi52

@indi52

IF-Sizzlerz

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Posted: 9 years ago

the rang maker: episode 207

i could have kissed shyam on his lying snout today. what a man. how well he chooses his moments. how utterly he fails and yet he succeeds and brings us moments most divine.

what would we do without shyam twitching and saying he needs to put holi gulal on khushi ji.

what if he hadn't.

what excuse would the writer have come up with for asr to veer all the way from i hate you to "pati jo hoon," husband that i am, with my right to put gulal on my bride first.

no shyam, i will not curse you today. evil has always had its uses. you have yours. i only feel bad that a character with the potential to have a real story, became meaningless in a tale. that's all. and abhaas thought he was doing a brill job perhaps, but no, it just wasn't really so.

a lovely interpretation of holi, the day of colour, to explore all the shades of a feeling. today, floating light red to deep red its colours in focus. colour became the metaphor for their love i felt. if on diwali, the darkest night, a searing flame of overwhelming awareness had come into being and an exploding attraction split the night... then today, on this spring day, another side of love came to visit.

it was all about the heart and its erratic beat... and diwali about the gut and its visceral stirrings.

there they were man woman... sexual, sensual, predatory.

here, boy and girl, gorgeous, loving, exciting, embracing.

oh there was something animal in it too, a marking of territory by a man pushed to the edge, and the wonder filled acceptance of this claim by a girl who so wanted him to be her churi giver, her bindi giver, her eternal lover.

krishna coloured radha in his rang, his colour, on this day. i wasn't there to see it. but i was here when asr reached out with flaming red gulal in his hand, a flagrant rampant right, haq, in his eyes, below that a tender melting question, to streak khushi's cheek. something ethereal in the act.

once... twice the red went on, the colour of love was on her.

and she looked with bemused eyes only to return this feeling with her nervous yet eager hands, her eyes full of questions and a certain wonder.

nani ji had to say the most significant thing that could be said, love melts huge mountains, this is but our little one, our chhotey.

but today really was all about that which cannot be said or found words for, a feeling that floats in bursts of gulal misting the air, in the sound of the drums, the touch of fingers, the looks of bewilderment, the locking of gazes and the silences that murmur sweet love.

if shyam brought two lovers together, his wife was instrumental in making them step right up to each other and she made sure khushi was united with her family. anjali loved her brother and knew in khushi's happiness somewhere lay her brother's peace of mind, his joy.

she called bua ji and garima ji over for their daughters' first holi... a break with norm, for she wanted then all to meet and reconcile and blow away the bad blood created during the wedding.

when garima ji and buaji demurred she urged them to forgive and forget. for khushi, her mother's embrace was like life returning to her bothered heart. how complete her hug, and garima too so relieved she can express love for teh one she loves perhaps more than herself.

later, when anjali's brother might have walked away after making his claim, she pushed him to take the step he must take... you can't leave this way today, she said, a tone of authority in her voice, a spirited woman in evidence, not the snake's charmed one... he listened to her as always, but perhaps his heart really wanted to anyway, which is why he had to refute nani ji's words with a it's nothing like that.

the family was as key to holi as were the lovers. for the two of them the family was always most important. on diwali everything happened without anyone's knowledge. today, the barriers fell before all. love was ready to come out perhaps. that night it needed the seclusion of tumultuous attraction, a thing you only share with the other. (wish the kiss had missed my sweet mano's, bless her sensible skin, hawk eyes and was not included in her gushing cooky sangeet song.)

frame by frame the creatives worked with love and style and understanding to give us pure fascination. there was the colour of love, the air of possessiveness, laughter and joy, and even a note of danger, all balanced perfectly to a heady concoction. even before khushi ran to fix bhang i was drunk and teetering with joy.

earlier in the day, the gullak broke and said, enter the magic. soon the bhang will take away the restrictions of rational thought. thoughts that make our anger create walls. instead love will flow, through all the resistance. liquids reach places solids never can. love seeps in where anger cannot enter.

she made friends with her family, there too love had its way. then in the most charming way ever she pacified nani ji. khushi needs family, everyone to be happy, for festivals to mean something. and she's determined today her world will come back to normal.

is there any other actress i know who could have pulled off that nana ji dance quite so charmingly? she was fun, cute, loving, and absolutely endearing... sanaya looks years younger than her age and she moves like a gazelle, light on her feet, her arms flow lissome and smooth, her smile reaches her eyes...for a moment you forget this is a show, it is a young woman doing all she can to make someone she loves feel better, her grand mother in law.

nani ji perhaps saw a lot of herself in khushi. and khushi perhaps sensed, this was a great role model, some day she'd like to be like nani ji when she's old. just my little mutterings to self i share.

it all started with a lovely family sequence. great acting all around. bua ji's apology may have been in that yellow colour she rubbed on kkg's face. a strange bond the two share, sanka devi is part of bua ji's heart. perhaps that's why so much anger she feels if the girl does anything wrong.

ajeeb indeed is love. and how it makes us ponder. why hate isn't hate, why you are not my own is you can't be anyone else's but mine.

to appease nani, comes missy in a turban as nana ji. i am so reminded of another time and a very handsome actor called balraj sahni wooing his simpering shy biwi, achala sachdev, oh a grand tale told by a grand film maker. waqt.

humri gulabo... khushi and sanaya are both a scream and fantabulous in this scene to use sohara's word. bas.

"khushi? kaun khushi? kaheki khushi...?"

he enters frame from left, head tilted, eyes a little narrowed, looking at the spectacle. he's wearing a white shirt. the faintest smile on his lips. paagal she is, and he adores her for it.

she's going nuts. i have to repeat... is there any other actress i can think of who can look so sylph like in a moustache or so lovely, so nutty and so sexy... plus she can dance.

he is definitely smiling now.

she dances with filled pichkari... about to take the risk of being royally snubbed in front of everyone.

a curtain of colour passes before his face.

"nani ji!!! holi mubarak...!" she's spraying nani with nana's pichkari.

nani looks up aghast.

tension.

"holi mubarak aapke liye hai... humre liye nahin." nani ji's terse, maybe holi mubarak for you, but not for me.

he looks tense. is he concerned for her?

she takes off her moustache.

he looks a bit sad as though feeling her disappointment.

she turns her face the other way.

nani stands with rigid back.

"khushi!!!"

and nani sprays her... "yeh hai humri holi!" this is my holi!

a burst of relief, joy, laughter all around and the holi music comes in...

he smiled. i think, uff, he fell again.

shyam fumes... the perfect anti-happy is he and the contrast makes the moment only richer.

heartbeats everywhere... below the colour, between the colour... of a mother, a sister, a husband and a wife, two lovers, two people meant to meet...

he smiled when he saw his nani and khushi embrace. that morning perhaps when he he heard her talking her innocent prattle in her sleep, and saw her stunning khushi smile, something melted in him... perhaps this asserted itself over the scene on the terrace he carried in his mind. then he saw her shying away from shyam. suddenly that faraq padta hai of his had hold of him it seemed.

"khushi bitiya, bua ji ne aapko sahi naam diya hai.. sanka devi." khsuhi, bua ji has given you the right name, queen of craziness. despite all her mistakes, and her nasty words, bua ji loved this orphan child of hers, and khushi loved her right back, a funny unique bond.

nani ji said khushi had to have colour on her.

"sahi kaha nani ji aapne..." on cue said snake, right you are. oh what timing, come let me hug ya, slither.

he was about to leave. he heard shyam's voice and stayed back.

a face turned hard, jawline set, eyes became steel. that lip dragging down to the right looked more pronounced. arnav singh raizada's gussa had arrived. how dare shyam. this is his wife.

shyam approached. asr stood grappling with rising fury.

thanks to shyam asr had to feel his feelings and make khushi his in front of everyone. tell her she was his.

he started walking toward khushi.

oh that walk... face dark and determined... loping long strides. i want to watch it again and again.

shyam stood with red in hand, khushi cringed. a hand entered frame and held shyam's wrist. stopping him.

she opened her eyes, saw who was standing there... and slipped behind him. her protector he. he may hurt her, he may hate her... but he is hers and she his... some things don't have to be said.

lovely the way she sought him as he called out... the rock between her and any harm that might come her way... ( a thought strays in... even he doesn't know whom he was trying to protect when he married her, does he.)

"ek minute, jeeja ji... khushi ko rang main laga loonga," one minute, bro in law, i'll put the colour on khushi. nani is thrilled to hear that.

"PATI JO HOON," i am her husband, after all. "rang" in hindi has as many connotations as colour in english, if not more. there's a certain passion pulsating in its sound.

he turned and in one fluid motion, reached out to put red on her face.

the touch of colour.

on her self, her heart and her soul...

hey hey... there seemed to come a magical connection in that sacred moment.

he had put red on her before, her sindoor... this felt as sacred, as connecting, as timeless.

he was lost in that moment too, she opened her eyes and looked at him with all her heart in her gaze. his hand rose again. the other cheek.

and in the shower of colour they stood. vis a vis. spring awakening them.

and nani asked khushi to put rang on chhotey. he started to leave. she was in a quandary.

again it was his sister that stopped him... she won't let him go like that. he must put colour...

nani insisted.

he was looking away, but as her fingers touched his cheek he looked straight at her. rabba vey had to enter frame.

what is in his eyes. why are my cheeks flaming? that undertow of the ocean...

they both began to turn away from each other. then he touched his cheek, her colour on it... felt like they were touching each other intimately, entangled, lying close, hands roaming, stroking, caressing, desiring, breath haywire... felt as though i should look away.

he touched her and looked back to see her. what was in his eyes. what did he want?

and she touched the place he'd put rang, her pati.

"anjali bitiya... pyaar toh bade bade paharo ko hila dete hain... yeh toh chhote hain."

"bilkul sahi kah rahe ho, nani."

the rabba vey ascended... and they looked at each other... what got said?

"aisa kuch nahin hai, di..." it's nothing like that, di, said he.

aisa kyun hota hai, thought i. nice touch that "aisa" in both their sentences.

he was hazy behind the phag, the powder of colour.

she touched her rang and remembered her rang maker.

and oh the slightest smile on her face. "hum bhi aap se nafrat karte hain," i also hate you, it said.

next minute she in happy sanka mode went into the next thing of holi... bhang. she apparently the queen of cannabis of lucknow with several bhang ke kisse. stories of bhang.

sanaya looked stunning in her holi churidar, very much the khushi of teda choti and mojri fame. now she's donned a colourful "bhang maker" turban along with the lingo of such folk.

"aur, bhaiya, kaisan ho," and how are you, bro, smiled the goddess of craziness, no need for no canabis sativa, thank ya.

and he watched her... hey hey... bemused... i hate you...

he had to smile at miss nut case's screw looseness.

khushi said how all dil ki baat comes rushing out after bhang, shyam appeared leering and said, then i must get you to drink some of that stuff. he makes evil face. i want to hug him and bless him... but really, must i see him on the end frame?

Edited by indi52 - 9 years ago

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indi52

@indi52

IF-Sizzlerz

+ 6

Posted: 9 years ago

put on your dancing heartbeats: episode 208

she danced. carefree and wild. he watched. his heart picked her rhythm, her spirit, her every move was echoed somewhere within him. the minutes ticked by, a long interlude where two people connected breaking all barriers. the drums played, the colour flew, she moved, he stood eyes fixed on her, but his heart was beginning to traipse, you could feel it.

magan... immersed. melded. rapt. they danced. she with her being, he in his heart.

the director used the language of pictures and sound and created an unforgettable moment. when all fences and defences set up by the rational thinking dimaag world, helplessly tied to its three dimensions fell.

when the heart only spoke and what it said was the truth. when he had to listen to it because he was no fool. what had been heard clearly one evening when he couldn't forget a kiss, was heard again... dhadkane.

heart beat.

dil ki dhadkan which had been muffled by the rage of the mind broke free.

the gullak had shattered, the bhang had been drunk, the girl who planned holi in her sleep though she slept on the poolside stone floor, the girl whose head he had to reach out to protect though he believed she was not true not pure, the girl who called him laad governor and gave him i o u notes for rs 300, the girl who chose black for him, she danced.

and his heart leapt at the sight of her.

that was all there was to it.

the dance was what it was all about for me. in most religious traditions, especially the ones more mystical, free spirited dancing is very much a part of worship. with body mind soul we relinquish the mortal, the material and reach out for what cannot die, what is not limited by dimension. and in our surrender and desire to reach, we make it to that point. once you touch that point you are changed in ways you can't always know but you do feel it. it never really goes away. mere nimboo doesn't do the trick.

almost at another plane this meeting of asr and khushi. cute, lovely, sexy, but lots of ecstasy there, more potent than the drug.

she switches glasses and makes him drink.

"ok!" says he abruptly and goes for the glass thinking it is the cannabis free thandai.

gotcha! says her smile. she's done her ramanchi... and fixed his little cheating.

he drinks in one go...

"aap ko kya lagta hai, aap bahut hoshiar hain, agar aap hoshiar hai toh hum usse bhi zyada hoshiar hai..." what do you think, you're very clever, then i am more clever than that. she is dopey, a bit drunk, and madly cute, he is melting.that touch of her colour still all over him. the touch of his perhaps making her feel things she'd felt a while back when all was well and he brought bangles for her.

he realises he's been had.

"kya hua, bolti band ho gayi?" what happened, cat got your tongue? and mad hatter says no prob, i'll say the words from you... "what the what the what the what the"... and she charges around among the merrymakers, a free spirit a fabulous sanka devi...

hic goes the laad governor.

she dances in gay abandon... unaware of the whole world the girl who loves to dance.

he comes looking for her and watches her from behind his sister and nani... dil ki baat in his eyes already.

she flails her arms and sways to the beat.

he steps forward and hugs his sister and grandma... eyes only on the ramanchi girl.

he is smiling at her, he needs to say something... "kitni sundar lag rahi hai na khushi?" his voice is just slightly slurred, his eyes delighted and feeling the high. khushi is looking so lovely, isn't she?

my heart flips... a boy in love adoring the girl he loves with his eyes, holding his dear ones. a boy who hasn't felt this innocent joy in years. only 27... what a life it's been. just when he thought he'd found someone, a treacherous night. barun is bringing a side of asr to light, a side never seen before and how masterfully he calibrates it.

"she's beeautiful"... oh asr, sundar isn't your word, is it... that was for di and nani... beeeautiful is she to you.

"thodi pagal hai but cute hai." she's a little mad, but she is cute. i always knew that's what you couldn't resist about her. that sanka. her trademark. from the day she told you about the mango juice, your heart valves were losing their tight set feel... coming a bit undone. you knew she was gorgeous, she was fiery, you couldn't bear to watch her get hurt, but that cuteness of hers laced with a particular looniness, that's what sealed the deal... there is no escape. stop trying.

if i am talking like a maniac to a character that does not not not exist, it's thanks to the tremendous work of barun sobti. you wanted to talk to asr so often, you wanted to laugh and die with him. this acting if someone is willing to give me back, promise ya free flow of bhang for the rest of your life.

and she laughs, eyes closed, lost in dance.

"uske baal, uski aankhe..." so lost he is getting, drawn into her...

"usski smile..." did anyone hear that voice, how it cut off on the smile at the end as though the word is already said in his head...

and he starts to make his way to her... pulled by her, a magnetic force around them, separating them from the crowd..

anjali almost sobs with joy... nani is happy, their chhotey has found his love.

he picks up another glass and takes a swig... he wants to reach her he wants to get rid of all his inhibitions...she is his bhang maybe today... drink to me with thine eyes...

makes his way to her on slightly unsteady feet...rabba vey is in and again before the whole wide world two lovers meet alone.

she stops, and seems to be confused, asking something...

he reaches her... eyes look at her with only a simple feeling... i am here he seems to say. they stand still as the world dances around them...

the silhouette shot reminds me of the sun on the day he tied a bandage on her engagement finger.

he reaches out, holds her hand and pulls her close. one swift movement... he looks at her, his heart in his eyes, no anger no pretense nothing. just him. i am here.

and he remembers her resting back on him the day they danced teri meri... a letting go, how he'd held her, how much he'd wanted her.

she remembers he'd wanted to kiss her... khushi has a strong sensual desire for her man. one that surprises her maybe at times. she can't forget that poolside. no matter how much he insulted and hurt her after that, her mind, her gut doesn't let it go. she wants that kiss. in her mind her palms are clutching her saree, her lips anticipate a touch. how will it be? how will it be? she seems to ask. a young girl who has never been kissed on her lips before. her man, the only man whose lips she wants on hers. but we can never say such things. just feel them.

the colour, the music, the drums, the bhang... they all say, feel. don't stop.

the gentlest sweetest smile touched his lips, he wanted to cherish this woman, i felt, like nothing he'd ever cherished before. everything to him, this crazy lunatic.

he remembered he had slipped on her payal. the touch of her soft skin, her little tautening of skin perhaps in his thoughts.

camera picked up anjali saying, today chhotey had done everything for khushi, yet he says he married her for di. exactly, i want to say. does he even know why he had to marry her? what a ridiculous response to what he saw on the terrace. would arnav singh raizada marry such a girl, or even pretend to? who was he protecting really? just his di and her baby? just his injured heart? or maybe just maybe, this girl... from that dangerous man.

suddenly they were aware of their surroundings...

he stepped back and swung her as he let her go, she whirled around and stared at him... a huge question in her eyes.

she had perhaps felt it... the quickening of her dhadkan as he came close. maybe she needed to know why. needed to know, does it happen to him too. she was filled with a funny wonder too... was this the man who'd said i hate you. and was he the same one she'd replied she hated too?

what a heady colour red is... spreads sublime confusion.

he smiled.

she smiled back at him... friends... relief... and she started dancing again.

he took his di and nani into the crowd and joined in the dancing...

a thought:

when episode started, khushi was smiling happy as she got into holi mood... now if she really hated asr, would she be able to do this? her life has been turned upside down, no explanations given. yet, she is happy and floaty here, all set to play the game of colours.

poignant, isn't it? our feelings, how they assert themselves. when she realised who shyam was, she couldn't wait a second to take off his ring and fling it on his face, but here this man has dragged her off to a crazy place, makes her sleep on the floor by the pool, (really asr, you got to pay for this), refuses to tell her why he's done so... her only clue that reference to a chot... but something in her feels things for him, her happiness keeps erupting... when he is away during kidnap, not a day does khushi feel like herself... worried sick for him, missing him, by now she knows he believes what he believes... but she can't deny what she feels.

this understanding of our inner feelings i did love about ipk. a crazy maturity in it, an elegance. none of the usual hindi serial predictable stuff and no sanctimonious shoulds and shouldn'ts in this feeling.

lots of beautiful moments in the episode.

"khushi, kissi ko jaanne ki zaroorat nahin hai ki jab hum akele hotey hain toh kya karte hain..." no one needs to know what we do when we are alone. though we all know what happens, how our imaginations soar at the suggestion in a husky voice. almost as though he wished it were the way it sounded.

a knowing smile from di and nani, a blank hazy look from khushi...

"achha?" really? says she innocent and goofy and trusting. "par... bhang?" but... bhang?

girl after my heart, loves her liquor, sorry cannabis.

before she can say anything else he places his finger on her lips... again an intimacy..

"shh... main bhang nahin peeta," shh... i don't drink bhang. so granular and soft the voice. and is he getting a little lost in his drunken partner's eyes? this whole thing should be written in urdu with plenty of "hosh, aagosh, etc.," an akbar feeling in me... mami ji's influence no doubt.

takhliya, kahamosh, kaneez... and so on. kaneez by the way means slave girl i think. nothing is politically correct about the whole moghul thing. yet, there's endless beauty and understanding of human nature there.

mami ji was in akbar a la mughl-e-azam form. i loved her lunacy and extreme angst at seeing her one and only son canoodling with his one and only love. sparkling acting from utkarsha naik always.

"aur ab... tum chup rahogi," and now, you'll keep quiet, says asr to kkg.

bhang girl does eye talk... boy smiles...

i am thinking kaneez sounds like kameez... shirt. oooh was the writer cracking a smart one about the white shirt knowing it will have a certain influence on the viewers. looks like the intoxicant was having an effect on me too.

nani ji's comment about love melting big mountains, this is but her little one was touching. pretty much the summary of the episode.

anjali hugged her laughing dancing happy bro. he was so thrilled, had anyone seen him like that in the longest time? the first time i saw this i remember fearing. who knows what hell might come into his life next. but no... instead came the gazebo and the poolside and nothing felt more perfect. 12 to 16 march, the best days of ipk after marriage, were going by and taking me to another plane.

he saw her dancing away and then he noticed a drunk man shoving her ever so slightly by mistake. the eyes grew steely and angry. his girl... how dare anyone touch her...

the man who had told her this marriage wouldn't mean a thing... it was on "sirf chhe mahine ke liye," went up to the man and asked brusquely, "tuney meri biwi ko haath kaise lagaya", how could you touch my wife.

his wife. meri patni. such possessiveness, ownership in his voice. why did i have no problem believing he meant as much, he who had been so terrible just a few nights before. who made her sleep on the floor. yet i knew no one loved her more than he did. no one.

oh the colours of asr, in barun sobti's character sketch.

Edited by indi52 - 9 years ago

Quote

indi52

@indi52

IF-Sizzlerz

+ 6

Posted: 9 years ago

why do i think of you even though...?

why do i remember you and me?
funny moments here and there
fairy lights glimmer and a touch does leave a shimmering trail.

why do i think of you even though...

why were you kneeling there and i sitting still
why were you coming near and i waited till
i was beating, pulsating, pulsar,
why are
some things so hard to understand
why are
some things not easy to forget

why do i think of you even though...?

and why does my breath race
a pace
sets my heart beat quickening
when you come near.

come near,
come near still...
heart beats, oh! catch them
hold them back, let me breathe
hold me now

even though.

in my heart: episode 209

curious are the ways of the heart. refuses to listen to the head when it feels it mustn't. seems to have a compass of its own and knows exactly where the lode star rises.

this episode reminded me once again, where is the the real bank and source of knowledge. real knowledge.

two people whose lives have been blighted terribly by what seems like a terrible reality. two people, each hurt immeasurably by the other. that shattering "chot" that she knows nothing of, but he feels with every fibre of him, his eyes growing unfocussed in intolerable pain at every reminder.

and she so brutally treated by the man who moments ago had said a "bas karni hai" and every bit of her had sung, her bangles, her bindi, her heart, nothing had not been touched by that little turn of head and something in the eyes of the man who wanted to talk to her about... what, what doe he want to say to me. with a little smile trembling with anticipation she'd left to hear what he had to say. and then an unexpected visitor... after that only cold contemptuous voice, a harsh proposition, a merciless dragging by the hand and here she was, with a colour thrust on her parting, and all around her only confusion and pain. no answers.

but sometimes, just sometimes, there's that window of clarity in the midst of mayhem. when what is true touches the only part of us that senses truth... the heart. and that is all that matters.

today he put the red, not on her parting but her cheek, but it was as though he accepted her, made her his own, and she returned with the same emotion... you are mine, mine, said his eyes, his touch, the colour floating all around.

she looked at him with eyes that wondered then capitulated and said, i am but yours of course, hum toh aap hi ki hai. in fact, they seemed to implore, make me yours.

if there was any chance that they might walk away from the heart's message, the bhang dropped in to make sure no such thing could happen. not today. not on a full moon tithi (date) when radha had played with krishna and he had put colour on her face to bridge a distance, to tell her she was part of his heart.

isn't bhang a great favourite of that cool deity, the ultimate husband it is said, though he walked around wearing animal skin, ash on his body, not gainfully employed in a solid money making job, hangin' out with his pals and a snake wound round his neck, smoking pot, ganja chandu charas, and drinking bhang? our revered lord shiva. it takes a deeper knowledge to know why this being was so loved by his wife, why he had the power to move the world. all in the heart i think... he was just totally pure of that. the one who consumed all the poison so that the world may survive. and after he had taken in the poison, amrit rose from the churned oceans.

a hundred metaphors and myths and stories of childhood evoked in the scenes of this episode. not done by design perhaps... but so powerful was the coming together of asr and khushi, it took you to mythological realms and tales of divine love. and of characters that stepped up and took on more so that their world may survive. on a night of catastrophe when poison rose, a young man decided he could bring amrit to his family, his di, by swallowing the poison. what he never realised was that it was amrit that he was holding in his throat thinking it's vish... the bhang i felt, let the true nectar seep into his heart. and she thought the same, i'll take every bitterness, anything... to bring eternal joy to my sister... almost like an o'henry tale isn't it? a life lesson practically there.

"the heart has its own reasons which reason knows nothing of." ~~~ blaise pascal ~~~

a bowl of water, rose petals float... she is here.

she splashes water on her face, her eyes... the bhang is upon her maybe, the truth will be seen when her eyes are clear of the colour, the lie, the deceit.

rose petals. they had to be there i guess. always somehow a reminder of his mother, a sign of blessing... clever use of it in many places.

slightly high, thoughtful, a little troubled, pensive... she roams in a gazebo of fluttering drapes and mirrors. why is she troubled, what bothers her?

she's thinking of him. not yelling and screaming and dragging and denigrating, but untangling fairy lights wrapped all around her. his gaze intent, his touch gentle, his skin on her skin. curious how the heart works. and this understanding of it is laudable.

her eyes look confused as though she doesn't want these thoughts, and yet... there he is... leading her out of the rings of diyas. putting on her payal. all those moments when she'd felt his tenderness, her excitement, her desire...

and as always, she finally comes to the kiss, the kiss she didn't want to stop. she wanted it. and the kiss on the cheek. and there she is standing alone and he comes and holds her hand to dance and help her win. at last a memory from moments ago. an implacable man with gentle fingers touching her with flaming red gulal.

on cue it seems, he walks into frame, behind the mirrors through the drapes... i can feel my heart constrict then start to race. a perfect shot by creatives to tell their story. barun seemed to glide in and the look on his face... so many emotions mixed, all centred on her, she not yet aware of his presence.

"khushi?!"

a question... a yearning... a man's whole world.

the wind comes in... it's staking a claim on its place and time.

a pause, a wait as they stand there just looking at each other. the makers have felt every bit of this scene, the editors are tiptoeing gently so as not to disturb magic.

he is frowning, worried, about many things it seems... possibly worried that he's hurt her a bit too much?

the wind is a quiet murmuring sea... she turns away.

he walks on silent feet to her and stands there, a little unsure of his next step.

she is rubbing her eyes.

he takes a decision and puts his hand on her upper arm, she goes still. ting tring... rabba vey starts... there is music in their hearts today, even if they don't wish to hear.

she turns back to look at him...

she rubs her eyes. he holds her hand to stop her... the wind comes again, a sign of intense feelings that will break free...

almost mesmerised, with dream like movements he lifts his hand and pushes a silken strand away off her forehead, ever since then that night in a collapsing building, he's had this desire. today her head involuntarily turned a bit as though to feel the caress, to accept it and like it.

her eyes closed as feelings overwhelmed.

he gently blew into her eyes... hey hey... heyhey hey... she was stunned and remembering again. he had done this before... the day she thought he was practicing black magic on her.

languorous moments ticked by this holi afternoon and he blew away the irritant in his lover girl's eyes... she stared and remembered so many lovely things... which memory do we live by? the ones that are tumultuous and bring pain? or the ones that stir and thrill? a personality here and an emotion too.

she stared as he took care of her eyes... they both were getting lost in each other. an intimacy touched the frame. his eyes watched her closely, read her thoughts and there came a question in his eyes...

two people stood still face to face, not touching, just his hand by her eyes and a breath of his soothing her... there was such poignancy in those lissome lithe bodies standing there... so many possibilities, and this is all that seems to be left. poison had been drunk that night, to save whom, to vanquish whom.

maybe she remembered other things suddenly. she pushed his hand away... why, i wonder.

felt like a little angry gesture of a lover, that said, "how could you!" they both knew how much they wanted each other. even though...

his eyes moved in his signature way, assessing, she looked away, rabba vey played, not at all bothered by the rift. for it perhaps knew better.

he saw her troubled face, he struggled a bit with his own thoughts, conflicts within, and he turned to leave... he knew she had reason to reject him. too many reasons. yet every time it hurt him, even though...

but all of a sudden he stopped.

the first time i saw it, i had a feeling she'd stopped him, but i didn't dare hope for that beautiful moment. yet, it was that. her hand hand reached out and held his, pulling it back, stopping him.

a stirring breath taking moment. how still he went.

and in their love story a massive step was taken ... i thought of that small step on the moon analogy. she had reached out and held back the man who'd heaped only a slice of hell on her. she needed him. no. matter. what. the heart has its ways, thank g.

her face was troubled... but she had to have him close, had to ask him something urgent. he stood among the mirrors, speechless. time passed, they stood there like that. a plethora of emotions going through them...

at last he turned and looked at their linked hands, then his frown just as dark as it had been the whole day, more of consternation and puzzlement than anger perhaps, he looked up at her as though his glittering eyes asked, "why, what is it you want..." and as though it couldn't believe what was happening.

a glint in her eyes too as she made eye contact after she'd turned away with that anger between lovers... a touch of tears.

she took the next steps too... the girl whose hand he'd held and taken her roughly toward a temple, refusing to hear her words or all that her eyes said. but she had to talk to him... "dil ki baat" is often so different from the human made notions of shoulds and shouldnt'd what does or does not happen.

divine complexity i sensed in these scenes... so much about our inner workings coming through. really, ipk did understand the language of this inexplicable thing we have come to call love.

ipk made clear, there as no place for social niceties, political correctness, rationality, nothing in this feeling. extra rational, pure, untouched, it is what it is.

she stepped all the way to him... he stood their transfixed... all that hate... he knew how much he must have hurt her... and yet this innocent girl full of just a need walks up to him. pristine pure... this can vanquish all that's negative, this can release a tear, this can win the universe. snow queen and the releasing of a boy's heart by a girl's unclouded heart wafting through.

she stood looking at him and heartbeats came in over the rabba vey, thrumming...

two hands came up without any hesitation and cupped his face, he looked at her approaching hands, such a thing had never happened to him... to them.

heartbeats.

he stood without a word, his eye lids lifted to glance at her again...

such tenderness had he ever been shown?

"hum aapse kuch poochna chahte hain arnavji"...heartbeats... the sun shone, and the curtains fluttered, a man looked on nonplussed, how much he loved her, how much... i want to ask you something, arnav ji.

she let go of his face and her hands reached for his hand, the wind rose, the girl took the boy's hand and placed it on her heart...

"aisa kyun hota hai," a delicate, guileless voice, the sound recordist wanted to add an echo to pretty it all up a bit, every creative wanted to give this scene some love... but really, that makeup was not necessary... sanaya's acting was enough to make it ethereal... why does this happen?

"jabbhi aap hamare paas aate hain toh hamari dil ki dhadkan tez ho jaati hai..." he looks at her almost stricken, what was she saying, how much he wanted to hold her and what a mess life had become. whenever you come near me my heartbeats quicken...

she's a bit high, he knows that... he just wants to hear her words...

"humne samajhne ki bahut koshish ki"...she is troubled by the state of her being, how can she love this monster who made her do such things... life is complex... khushi delved into the mysteries of life with asr, he took her where she'd never been before and he changed her just by being there as she changed him... at the cost of sounding most cliched i must say, they helped each other find the person within.

i have tried hard to understand...

she shook her head and a childlike... "lekin samajh nahin paaye... bhulana chahte hain... par bhula nahin paate..." but i don't understand. i try to forget yet i can't...

how hard she's tried to hate him...

he feels her pain, her confusion, his heart reaches her on that plaintive note, why can't i forget though i try? he's hurt this girl so much, but she can't stop loving him. what is he to do with this beautiful innocent girl he so wants so wants.

"aisa kyun hota hai?"

she is in tears by now, a heady mix of her feelings, the bhang and his colour on her, his nearness, she's immersed.

and he holds her face gentle and loving, in his hands... his pagal, the girl whose sanka he must take care of, she who will return 300 rupees to him, he just wanted to be so good to her... and yet.

in this gazebo far far away, where rose petals float, their fragrance in the air, where for a short short while it's just him and her. not the carrier of responsibilities, the brother, the outraged lover, the broken boy, none of them. he. as he is, simple and just that. with her. he touches her in a way he's longed to for such a while.

"bataiye na... aisa kyun hota hai?" tell me. why does this happen?

no words really in him, just an overwhelming burgeoning of feelings, tears gather in dark chocolate eyes. barun makes sure you never feel the glycerine.

i am sure the guy cried behind the glycerine.

"ki hamari dil ki dhadkan hamari saason se bhi tez ho jaati hai?" that my beartbeats race faster than my breath?

and even as he looks at her, a part of a question whose answer is a truth, one eternal... she passes out on him.

what a lovely girl... gets drunk and falls flat... i could trust her and love her. seriously.

and the wind rushes, the trilling piano notes of rabba vey wrap around them, the gazebo holds them like an oyster, a pearl in its heart. she collapsed on him.

a little time to himself, he looks away fighting his tears... wipes one with the knuckles... like a child. a cut in the stone, and a tear at last, the beginning perhaps of the washing away of pain. a child's heart awakens another.

he is overwhelmed by her innocent giving love... you can't fight that. it is easy to scream and shout and shut everything out, but what do you do when someone tells you with complete trust... when you come close to me my heart starts racing... tell me why. even though i try to forget... she knows he has hurt her... even then i can't forget... tell me why?

she swings away and he holds her looking at her. i felt there was a lovely scene edited out as he drew her close and he picks her up as he has done many a time before and walks away. a owning of the moment, a taking charge of his truth in his stride. somehow they are separate from the crowds all around.

he takes her to the place they met again and again... lay her on a chair, and tended to his lover... so so tender, with a large handkerchief and holi colour on the cheek...the feeling was in his fingers, his face, his eyes, as though all he wanted to do for the rest of his life was take care of her, make her feel good..oh to be loved like that...

the bhang was having its way with him too... you could see it in the loosened jaw, the relaxed facial muscles, the lack of his usual aggressiveness.

he let the hankie go, then sat looking at her, his hand settled on her cheek... cherish. that is what he wanted to do. his girl.

she slept. she knew she was in safe hands.

when her eyes opened, the wind came in instantly, the feelings swirled and danced, they wanted voice, they wanted to live...

he was stroking her hair. yet when he saw her eyes open he began to draw his hand away, as if worried their status quo didn't permit all this... how hard for him not to love her, touch her... yet that is what the current situation demanded.

he sat staring at her beloved face and remembered a girl in white with a wide smile with a key on her palm. mannat ki key chabi. a simple key that was supposed to open the lock... she would. she did.

many memories rushed him as they had floored her. the early days, when he'd seen her on the road in delhi, angry with the man who'd rammed into her scooter.

he'd never not wanted her.

and she stood there in red and he gobsmacked...

i have goosebumps for how long i have forgotten, the music is perfect, the sound soars and takes me on a memory ride... i remember sitting up in bed waiting for this magic night after night... so many memories of ipk.

how he'd needed to come out and save her from the car that night of rain...

a return to now as she says, "arnav ji aapne abhi tak hamare sawal ka jawaab nahin diya..." you didn't answer my question.

so cute, she had not forgotten... even the bhang wouldn't couldn't make her forget... she needs the answer...

he shakes his head as if to say don't hurt like this, he strokes her cheek with his thumb and he tells her why he thinks what happens happens. today he won't lie, won't fob her off... today he won't scream "i hate you" to tell her he can't live without her. today he won't tease, he won't play, he won't stall, today he will tell her and he will love her and adore her and hold her and hug her just as his heart wants to.

he leans in toward her and says the words that would be embedded in many hearts forever. fairly pedestrian words really, even silly and mushy, most men would balk at saying such things... but not this actor. he would make them real. and exciting.

"main batata hoon ki ais kyun hota hai..."

low key, understated, thinking man's voice... as if he is wanting to alleviate pain with a real answer, a solution.

he swallows, his hand moves to hold hers...

and he places it on his heart... hilltop wafts in, a flash forward in me...

"jab tum mere paas hoti ho," when you are near me... he is gentle and husky and intimate...she looks into his eyes... an instant of complete meeting.

"toh tumhari dil ki dhakano ke saath saath... mere dil ki dhdkane bhi tez ho jaati hai..." then along with your heartbeats, mine quicken too.

she is wonder struck by this... hey hey sings the air

and a smile begins to clear the troubled look in her eyes... she understands what he tries to say. she understands this man alright.

"hamari djhadkane ek ho jaati hai," our heartbeats become one.

nth time i watch... and the goosebumps are all over me... why does this break through all my cynicism, my jadedness and feel right... true... beeeautiful.

"jo tum mehsoos karti ho... jo main mehsoos karta hoon..." which i can feel and you can feel.

she joins him...

"hamari dhadkane..." tearful she is, caught in the wonder of it.

"ek ho jaati hai..." our heartbeats become as one. he nods and affirms.

she seems to sob, but now in joy, a glimmer of a smile on his lips and on hers...rabba vey

why should this kind of feeling matter? let's talk of real estate, bank balance, investment, reality check, branded shoes bags jewellery the right brand of college... that's real, that's life that's what we must have... must.

nah. let's talk of a boy and girl and a poolside named romance.

and he stroked her cheek again, and she looked at him and all was good.

"i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it...
~~~ e. e. cummings ~~~

Edited by indi52 - 9 years ago

Quote

indi52

@indi52

IF-Sizzlerz

+ 6

Posted: 9 years ago

not letting you go: episode 210

jab tum mere pas hoti ho... hamari dhakane ek ho jaati hai.

i want you i just want you... don't you know that faraq padta hai.

and then the most beautiful scene ever... two lovers young and carefree canoodling... on their little poolside. their whole world here. nothing is missing. it's a perfect moment...

she tries to move her hand away from where he holds it pressed against his heart, he pulls her back. oh that tug and keeping of her hand against his dhadkane. (even when he is not facing camera, just look at his absorption in her, and the love story written in that hand holding hers firm right on his heart... look at how he holds her hand... must i believe these two people are not real?)

shake of head, heart in eyes, no, don't go. a curiously contemporary and slightly western take on a very old song i felt... abhi na jao chhorke..

she smiles in wonder, joy, this is her world... this crazy man who does ridiculous things.

for a moment, she is the khushi i knew... unafraid, adventurous, ready to find out, sunshine girl who believes in only the goodness of life... she vanquishes evil with that.

she gives in to all her feelings when she sees his little boy, not complicated love and rests her head on his shoulder.

when she thinks a bit then, overwhelmed by emotion, lets her hand move over theirs treasuring their togetherness, a heart melting half smile on his face as though registering the meaning of her gesture, then he slips his hand up her shoulder...

an unbearably beautiful interlude of hands, her hand slipping over their locked ones, her bangles move as though saying something (i loved that little shot, unplanned i know, that's why so beautiful maybe) his little sukoon in heart, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, gather her closer so that he might lay his cheek on the top of her head and oh the smile of asr.

never ever... not even when he was 14 and smiling has he felt the feelings of this smile.

it's a warming and settling of the heart moment.

for her.

for him.

and in the middle of all the tenderness, somehow a streak of heat radiates, an ever present desire, temperature rising.

this is strictly an actor driven shading. no one can tell you to create this... you feel things a certain way and express that.

i adore the underlying of desire.

they snuggle, they gently move against each other, heads lift, eyes ask question, eyes answer.

di calls. what timing... really, aap bhi na.

she pulls away a bit, she can't deny her sister in law's call... but he holds her back again. no. don't go. stay with me. not letting you go.

oh sublime possessiveness laced with knee shaking love.

today nothing matters, kissi cheez ka koi matlab nahin... agar matlab hai toh sirf iss baat ka... ki main hamesha hamesha tumse... how headily we are coming to that moment in the future. what's happening here will tell us clearly just how true what he says is. asr with his guard completely down, wants, loves, desires, can't live without only one... the crazy girl from lucknow who throws tea on him, pops out of his cupboard, fights with him, dances, touches him every time... his dil speaks and his dimaag forgets what he saw on a terrace... it forgets to find harsh ugly words that will create distance between them...

c'm'ere you... what he'll say months later, his gesture says now. stay here. i need nothing else but you...

when i think of practically any memorable dialogues from the show, they all seem to be echoing here.

this was such a dense scene, yet all they did was cuddle and lose themselves in each other like an innocent boy and girl.

her hand is against his heart right through. dil ki dhadkane... that's where they meet and nothing really matters.

when the din of the world drowns
the rhythm of your heartbeat
hold me in your heart
hold me in your heart
never ever doubt
no matter the deceit
hold my heart beat
hold my heart beat
when the clamour
takes the hour
touch your heart and there find me again and again

like a little boy, he refuses to let her go, like a woman in love she gazes into his eyes wanting to take all his feelings to and keep with her.

he is rapt, lost, just her, that is all he sees.

after that moment on the terrace, there's been not a moment of relief in the man. unable to reach the girl who makes a difference... to take her, to be hers. shiva swallowing poison to keep whom intact... to keep what alive. his heart beat is where the "chot" has come, how brave of him to let it beat still. thank g she thought of that bhang. sunshine neutralizes poison?

di calls once more.

the heady intoxication of bhang that breaks down doors shut by the brain and lets heart meet heart, alas that nasha must go.

"nimboo ka achar," says the sozzled khushi ji. how did sanaya get it so right? i hope this actor finds the right team to work with always so that her real talent can be drawn out.

he makes a face. little grouchy boy... they are interrupting his fun. bad di.

she just loves to see him being so boyish, so without responsibilities bowing him, no laad governor, just her poolside lover.

the sweetest hauling of drunk by drunk, and she clings to his arm, a clear case of united we stand, divided we fall.

of course the dupatta slips.

"wo wo jo kuch bhi hai hum usse lekar aa jayenge..." that that whatever it is, i'll pick it up and come... khushi is floating about, not finding the right words... nice writing.

"aap jaiye..." you go, she tells him.

"nai," a little slurred "no" comes from determined lover boy... arms cross chest, "main wait karoonga..." i'm going to wait. he ain't letting her go... alas alas, that nimboo waits too...

and that crazily lovely kkg dialogue bowls me over.

she looks at his determined look... "kisska, hamari dhadkan ka?"

you'll wait for whom? my heartbeat?

why do i get the feeling the writers may have been jesting over a drink and this priceless one came...

wait for her heartbeat.. oh he will do that, for a very very long time.

the deadliest drunk lover smile,

and a hot sexy, grainy voice... "i'm waiting..."

okay girls, now i need to swoon for a bit. so break.

some other thoughts.

~ shyam appears, takes her away, asks her questions. all the while he's been lurking close by, yet i never saw this stalking tie up with any part of story.

~ scene shifts to the opposite of magic poolside with its love and only that. the sitting room with its three dimensions, its politics, its nimboo ready to bring you back to your dimaag... away from dil.

~ my mano baby is still alam pana hayee and mirchi khaaing... i love chillies, can't eat without them.

~ snake actually casually holds her hand to stop her. he certainly has a death wish.

~ kkg informs snake... ek ho gayi hamari dhakan... i rofled looking at his face. "pata nahin kaise?" don't know how, she carries on... so cute.

~ slither goes to cup her face in his [alms. dis.gus.ting. okay mirroring and resonance and all that but gah. to her credit she chucks his hands away first before all else.

~ di asks, "chhotey, khushi ji kahan hai?" chhotey, where is khushi?

he replies, "dupatte mein..." in teh dupatta. a maze i sense... of words that carry hints.

~ when she is walking with asr, khsuhi asks ina troubled littel girl voice, "arnav ji?"

"kya hua?" he replies.

a lover looks at his sweetheart and touches her face without any qualms... a little bit of normalcy... something that is never to be his, is it?

"khushi?!"

looks like she wants to tell him about shyam, about her feelings, her confusion. but the brain is befuddled.

"nimboo... achar" she mumbles.

slightest ever that smile, how tender and embracing that "chalo."

who can direct this? how does an actor interpret this? and why am i thinking of jeremy irons in lolita.

~ reality is returning to all. he looks at her straight after having his pickle. and she at him. neither speaks... he looks shaken. and in classic asr manouvre... looks away. no eye contact. so does she.

~ moments of beautiful and unsettling awkwardness. in front of a room full of peopel, their private world again, but now stricken by so called reality. di delineates how unlike himself asr was... the new improved version. mami ji says from black and white art film he's become a film with song and dance. nice dialogues fly about, but what rivets attention are the volley of embarrased, awkward looks between teh two. finally he can't take it and asks his sister to delete all the video. he really is not a cutesy sort of guy.

only with khushi. only with her a side is shown.

and sorry, mano my twin, i prefer him in his art film mode. because he is indeed that. the serial hero is just a disguise.

di refuses to delete.

"ok fine," he is clipped, oh my asr.

he is leaving.

awkwardness... he is feeling it creep up.

so is she.

"arre haan tum dono gaye kahan the?" oh yeah, where did the two of you go... di asks when mamaji refers to them going "phur".

he pauses. he needs to know. does she remember? will she say?

neither can answer that question. he leaves.

the poolside returns to all our minds and hearts. but this time a sadness touches the joy.

~ disgusting shyam baits khushi... usurping "dil ki baat". but really what does a cold blooded creature know about four valved hearts and all their baat.

Quote

indi52

@indi52

IF-Sizzlerz

+ 6

Posted: 9 years ago

Quote

InspiredSoul

@InspiredSoul

Senior Member

+ 4

Posted: 9 years ago

Res

Indi52, this thread, containing all your Holi posts - WOW! What a lovely thing to do - put them all in one place for us to enjoy and soak ourselves in that magic again!

But I have a question - are you planning to kill us all with a heart attack?? Don't you think it's an overload on our poor hearts?

I am reserving right now, so that I can come back when I have more time to read these posts, and when I do that, I plan to have an aspirin and a nitroglycerine shot closeby ... Just in case ... Or maybe have an ambulance on standby ... Oh my poor, crazily beating heart ...

Edited by InspiredSoul - 9 years ago

Quote

indi52

@indi52

IF-Sizzlerz

+ 6

Posted: 9 years ago

^^^

hi inspired soul,

ha ha... dil ki dhadkane in severe jeopardy around holi. nitroglycerine... 😆

but really how ugh aaargh good were they. thought i'd just keep it together. useful when i am too advanced in years to search the threads for the killer shots.

Quote

arshina09

@arshina09

Goldie

+ 3

Posted: 9 years ago

#10

lovely post with pics😳😳😳

love arshi

plz dont stop making such posts

miss arshi alot

😭

miss ipk

Edited by Swearshina09 - 9 years ago

Quote

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