Blast from the Past Thread #25 Extn ** Khushi, I... ** P 119, Ep 274

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Horizon

@Horizon

Dazzler

+ 2

Posted: 11 years ago

#691

Rhea, it is easy to get carried away by such moments.. but you did/ do find the right words. So it was a compliment.
I was sure you noticed about the fone, but episode leaves dumb struck so blabbered that bit..
There was some inconsistency about her hindi/ english where initially before entering AR, she would use sorry, thank you but after she would refuse to take even any simple english words.. to make the difference from him obvious .. it looked like..
Online version of the epi only has one fire fly..
and, forgot to mention lovely symbolism about the kalash..

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supriya

@supriya.arshi

Dazzler

+ 3

Posted: 11 years ago

#692

Episode 269

[YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ny_vQLxr0Io[/YOUTUBE]

First Telecast Wednesday ,6th June 2012

Full episode links

StarPlayerLink:http://www.startv.in/episodes/nandkishore-gives-a-surprise-visit-to-shantivan/33268

Dailymotion : http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1088sg_iss-pyar-ko-kya-naam-doon-episode-269_shortfilms

Dailymotion with English subtitles:http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x10sse2_6-haziran-2012-bolum-269-ingilizce-altyazili_shortfilms

Thanks, Katelyn,for all the links.

Credit for the videos: Respective uploaders

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 11 years ago

#693

episode 267

😳

sorry, right now there's no way to access my vms because the kahani of blocking continues. maybe some day good sense will prevail and fans will be allowed to express their joy with a completely non commercial yet utterly precious piece of work... no matter what, i shall always have the emotional copyright for iss pyaar ko... so will you. and nothing can infringe upon it... for it stays in the dil... a fabulous vm... hamesha 😳

i have never seen such heady love making on the screen. actually anywhere.

there were flaws, but what i left with was so intoxicating and beautiful, i overlooked the glitches.

when two people love each other, the sensual domain is theirs to own. theirs to express their emotion through, enjoy it, seep right in. from completely carnal sex to sublime union, the entire spectrum is theirs to have and explore. in fact, between lovers the physical intimacy and contact their relationship nurtures, is often a means of communication... with each other... sometimes even the eternal.

the intensity of one's emotion drives this exploration and gives it variegated colour. one can write a book or a library on this... but how does one create it before a camera? between people who are not really lovers.

there are so many preconceived notions about what is sexy what is not, how lovers should or shouldn't make love, and in our image inundated world, stereotypes are thick and heavy. say love making and a bunch of cliched images flash.

nothing seems fresh, nothing touches. certainly nothing ignites... that's been the case with me.

but while seeing 267 when i forgot everything and just watched trying to hold onto my breath... i realised i was seeing something which is all of those. and definitely much more.

for me this episode is about director, barun, and sainyaa... that aaraam. i wish khushi had been thought through a bit more.

and while i loved the choice of song, there were parts where i felt nothing but the visual was required. it created all the other layers and you could almost hear and feel the picture. to find out if i was correct, made a vm with my most favorite parts, and no goons. please do see, i will be back tomorrow morning with the rest.

update

"fireflies," he said.

"jugnu!" she concurred delighted.

light played on her face, on his... his eyes were all you could see and in them, another light... that of his devotion to her. his incandescent love that even the darkest night could not snuff out.

the firefly... only one suddenly, i have seen a version where there were three... left its little pitcher and flew away, its phosphorescence lighting up the trail it flew and out of the hut it went, leaving darkness behind. but not quite. what had been lit remained so.

he looked at her worried, almost pained by the thought of her feeling afraid. but she said, she was no longer afraid.

were the fireflies really a metophor, i wondered. they had lain lit but carefully shut in a rounded little pitcher, a secret chamber as it were, its shape reminiscent of the womb, the kumbh from which nectar flowed... till she opened the lid and they flew right out.

desire. were they telling the story of desire that had lain bright and refulgent in two hearts, never set free and allowed to fly... but tonight they would?

the day had been spent running, running to escape from danger that wouldn't be thwarted. two lovers, hand in hand, thrown into a strange flight and did they finally reach a place where at last the real fears we have can be shed?

as if on cue, she said, she was no longer afraid... no longer afraid of what? the darkness without or her apprehensions within?

from the moment the hut was sighted, we seemed to shift to an alterante reality. the hard harsh world of the day melting into a magic hut somewhere far away, yet where no one really knows. it appeared in the middle of a wooded area, replete with hay on the floor, lantern on a pole, shamrock on the wall, and the raiment of a nubile virgin... white chiffon touched with sparkling badla, but along with it, the touch of the temptress in a red revealing blouse with a tie to hold it in place.

in this fairytale cocoon one thing was throbbingly real. a man's feeling for a woman. a complete feeling that had range depth veracity.

close your eyes and count till ten, said a gentle, father like protector husband to a scared childlike wife. all arnav singh raizada cared about was her safety and comfort... something terribly beautiful about a man simply accepting his role and defining it his way.

captive or not, tired or not, worn out or not... khushi is always his responsibility... he owns this duty, it is a precious asset almost. even when he has disbelieved her he has protected her...

for her too, only he was of importance, nothing else really. she saw the cut on his cheek and reached out to soothe. i could see the hand was not correct, nor the hair... it was not sanaya who dabbed at barun's cheek. but just as i had done the first time i saw this episode i carefully shifted focus and concentrated on what mattered, did not allow the presence of not well chosen doubles to mar my enjoyment of the beautiful portrayal before me.

in the dimmed light, the intimacy of a secluded hut, desires began to murmur once fear had abated. this was the first time they were meeting after what took so long to say was said, and heard, and held dear in their hearts.

he sat on the hay while she changed; his shirt he had taken off for it must have been grimy and filthy after the ordeal of the past days and he just wore his not too pristine undershirt as he waited for her.

the gesture itself curiously intimate, that of removing the outerwear and being completely at home in a vest before a woman... quite husband like.

he murmured vaguely about what intimated her to his plight... a question he had asked before. arnav singh raizada was speaking not in clipped sentences but with a slightly lost curious lilt to his voice. maybe he wanted to know if she could feel him as intensely as he could sense her...

she answered in little mumbles about woh, that... what he had said...

yeah that... woh... did asr just mumble back?

oh they both were feeling the fireflies' call...

he had pulled a makeshift red curtain on a line for her, to give her privacy.

and then inadvertantly, as things often happen, his eyes fell on a shadow... of her donning her clothes, he could see the silhouette move alluringly, her hands were behind her back, she was tying the dori of her blouse clearly...

one long look, and arnav singh raizada could no longer mask the naked passion stirring in his gut, released... refusing to be put back into a quiet dark place, instead rising and seeking to be free.

a simple lantern juxtaposed against a lean expressive face with glittering jewel like eyes and a poetry started getting written about longing, sensual yearning, love and beyond.

as he watched her, then got up to lower the flame of the lantern so that even he may not in any way disrespect her form, her being, every frame seemed like a still life, but dynamic, quivering with desire... the wellspring of which was not mere flesh. of course, the flesh sought its pleasure but what compelled it was a sublime emotion.

this was really not about sex. and certainly not about a generic man woman thing. this was arnav singh's specific particular desire for khushi kumari. for no one else has he felt such things... not in this way or so i felt... to no one else has he wanted to give so much of himself.

quietly he stares at shadows, his eyes saying a million things, most important, he is struggling with a growing arousal... he looks away, he swallows and tries to calm himself

and then just as he is about to succeed in quelling the overwhelming feelings, she draws aside the red curtain... it had to be red of course, right from that first day when he had reacted to her beauty without meaning to... it was always red. isn't it the colour of blood? of passion? of heat? of sindoor?

and before his eyes stands a virginal maiden in white, little silver sparkles across her flowing garment, her hair is open and down to her hips, diaphanous sheer is her saree, hugging her sensuous curves, a dash of red on her body, and a strange wariness in her eyes... that question about how she knew, that reminder of his phone call, and in her perhaps a surging too.

as i watched her, i could see she knew what he was thinking of... perhaps she longed too... but oh i did so wish someone had thought about what khushi would feel at such a moment with a bit more depth...

once he saw her, he could deny it no more. astounding expressions on barun's face, his eyes, the language of his entire body. she stood there transfixed, then his head tilted to one side as if he couldn't believe what it was his eyes beheld.

the breath by breath understanding and delineation of sexual desire burgeoning was exhilarating and gratifying really. the director had seen this whole thing in his mind with such clarity... it was as if he painted a canvas, stroke upon stroke.

asr looked at khushi for a timeless moment and then you saw a decision come into his eyes... that is when he moved... flowed really..
how graceful and ballet like were the next few minutes... he came to her, the motion had been slowed, the lighting was perfect, she stood there shy, uncertain, a little out of her depth. the two of them stood apart, a ray of light falling between them, an improvised clothesline with a sense of limit separated them, the lakshman rekha as it were. she watched transfixed, he approached, he seemed mesmerised... as he had been that day of the first rabba vey, as he had been on diwali night... but this time he knew why he was here and it no longer threw him that such an overwhelming need propelled him.

when he reached the rope... an inflection point. he lifted his hand and pushed the rope up, ducking under it, eyes on her he came to her side as it were. in his gaze was a determination now. he was here. he had decided to hear the call of the fireflies.

she backed away then, the look in his slightly glazed yet focussed brown eyes sent tremors through her it seemed. maybe it was the magnitude of his desire that shook her... had she ever felt such guiltless vast passion directed at her... caused in fact by her?

did it scare her a little? though it sparked a desire too in good measure.

he came closer still, now with a faintly predatory air, seeking her, and her alone. she walked back straight into the wall... so reminiscent of diwali this whole moment... he leaned over as he had done then, his eyes muddling and wanting the mayhem of love... this time he is sure. there will be no denial afterwards.

she watched as feelings ran amok and tried to escape the onslaught, but he would not let her... a swift and graceful lunge to the right blocking her path.

he bent down to kiss her, she attempted escape again...

but his downcast head managed to communicate unyielding resolution, a swift hand caught her wrist, obstructing flight... no, jonaki, tonight you won't fly away... bangles moved and danced, a touch of red by a carefully crafting director... in it: frenzy, fear, and maybe a note of wanton love.

asr pulled her back and came over close, she looked on helpless now, her eyes large, irises a little glassy... caught between the scary tumult of sensations in her and in him... perhaps still just a bit afraid.

i noted that both were dressed in white and red. he wore his basic white vest and that devastatingly exciting cut on left cheek, with a streak of blood.

red and white... were these colours too telling stories about the two and this evening like no other evening?

he did kiss her shoulder and then knowing the fight had left her, that she wanted him as much as he her, he bent and did what he had done so many times before... so after the signature advance retreat, now it was time to pick her up in his arms.

only this time he would lay her gently, tenderly on a bed of hay and make love to her, his wife.

while outside men with guns looked for them, inside the hut, lovers prepared to surrender, for something had found its mark. and that is when the song rose... rustic gritty alleviating... saiyaan.

kailash kher and a sufi interpretation of love, words that speak of the nature of love the lover seeks... and what that love does. enchanting melody. words that can make you blush or die with pleasure... no need for guns.

tu jo chhoonley pyaar se aaram se mar jaaoon.

if you should touch me with love, i will die of the comfort, the pleasure.

isn't that arnav singh's longing there? for years there has been no aaraam in his life, no comfort, no pleasure really... now she... all he needs is to be touched by her... that is all.

aaraam, a difficult to translate word i feel... nuances of the purely physical and also emotion in it.

saiyaan... saiyaan... lover... oh my lover.

she lay on the hay as he reached down to claim her to be claimed by her.

just as he was about to kiss her lips at last, she moved with alacrity, away... no... she was shy... not ready... and out flowed a beautiful long slim arm, minutely and perfectly etched with muscles... sinuous, strong, rising from a beautiful shoulder...

he stopped her... then ever so slowly his hand moved, his fingers trailed the skin on her back and went to her dori... fingers began to untie the knot. she was carried away on the sensations awakened... his eyes looked intoxicated...

in the intensity if this night, in its pure and complete call, i suddenly found a reflection of another terrifically concentrated night... after the terrace... on a quiet road, the scream of a man betrayed, a man who loves and wants to be loved. the helplessness of that night seemed to come and find bliss here and merged with it, losing itself, letting it flow away, becoming strong again... that chot of his got its aaraam. that night he had screamed, tonight he said barely anything and whatever he did was in the opposite decibel direction... whispers... yet his eyes spoke, his body sang, his hands screamed...

and of course, the goons found them just then.

there is a beauty in these scenes that my words will never be able to capture. and barun... this really was his episode. how terribly detailed and precise are his expressions... his body language is really rare... he is predator and protector... there is a male aggressiveness and a ballet like grace in his movements... something hums and murmurs all the time... it envelops him.. it's in his look, his voice, all around... and really i have never seen male physique that looks as though someone had painted it, no sculpted it... giving it the most fluid angles and lines, lifting a muscle here, drawing a sinew there, detailing with infinite care. collar bones, shoulders, the clavicle, the ridges and grooves... how can such things look so beautiful...

pulchritude, my mind said. this is what that word means. this type of beauty.

the moment he knew the outside world had intruded... asr, shatir, problem solving, in command, and no nonsense returned... he spoke in his clear sentences, a mix of hindi and english, an economy of words...

first thought... her safety. unlogo ko mujhse matlab hai... if i go out, they won't come in... ok?

no! she won't let him go. neither can bear the thought of the other being hurt.

they argued... he spoke of risk, she said let's jump out through the window... he through clenched teeth said, just lemme go, khushi...

i wondered how long i could remain sane.

and then some muddle headed writing bludgeoned the night on the head.

but there had been such beauty here by then, nothing could dull that.

right in the beginning before everything started, he had taken a second, stolen it from the hour in fact to look at her as she counted till ten with her eyes closed as he had asked her to...

the tenderness that invaded his eyes at that point... infinite love there... it was perhaps that look which made the one in his eyes when he crossed the clothesline... that stalking devouring hunger... look perfectly wonderful... not lascivious and if so, in the best possible way.

heerey moti main na chahoon, main toh chahoon sangam tera...

diamonds and pearls i don't desire... i desire union with you.

even before the song said it, barun sobti spoke it with his eyes, his bent of head, his gliding, slow walk, his air of being unstoppable...

barun sobti was doing double shifts at this point... shooting for mamr at the same time. i have a feeling he was enjoying his role a lot... and that somehow got reflected in his kidnap days acting in ipk. absolutely inspired is all i can say... i yearn to see acting of this nature. and i hope that some day soon mamr releases... because he so wanted to do it.

did you see the look in his eyes
infinite

planets perhaps shifted
when he lunged

was there ever in truth a line to be
crossed

if there was, a crossing would be
done

love dictated, desired, demanded
that

the lover and the beloved stand
forever

in a hut in the gloam between here and
somewhere else

beauty and truth their indelible tie
illumine

soon after watching this episode when it first aired, i wrote this:
tonight was bs's night wasn't it.

also:
par mera asr aaj perfect tha, smoulder in his eyes, desire on his lips, love in his heart, passion in every pore. and banian on his breathtaking torso 😉 aur kuch hi din baad woh lautega, with all those things you speak of. but after tonight, there's no guarantee i'll live that long. he's the real dangerous one not that bichara sanskaari goonda. tan dan dan...

Edited by indi52 - 10 years ago

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aarwen

@aarwen

Dazzler

+ 4

Posted: 11 years ago

#694

😭 Can't see Indi di.. youtube says its blocked in my region or something..

Yes for me also definitely all about Barun and that song..

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Katelyn

@Katelyn

Rocker

+ 7

Ocean of Happiness

Posted: 11 years ago

#695

^ Rhea, try the Dailymotion link! That one should work!!

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indi52

@indi52

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 11 years ago

#696

episode 267

wrote this on crooner 79, page 54 after seeing this episode the first time. i juts remember feeling slightly blown away and almost euphoric after seeing it.

i was extremely moved by yesterday's episode. of course, i wanted to take asr home, but that's nothing new. there was a something in that room that refused to go away; it called me in and asked me to look, you know how tough it is to look at anything while the man with perfect clavicles is before your eyes. yet, i couldn't deny the call.

but i shall digress now to another thought.

the diamond cutter was in a dilemma. he knew the stone he held in his hand was of the truest and finest white colour, a spectacular D. yet he also knew it had a few flaws and the clarity would at best make a VS1, 3 marks below flawless. now everything depends on my cut, he thought. no, he heard his thoughts self calibrate, the colour that the diamond brings with itself, what it is born with that's the basis of its worth, its beauty, his skill in cutting simply enhances that inherent beauty.

diamonds, indi? seriously.

ipk is like that stone, an absolute D colour. its innate strengths are breath taking. the possibilities are unbelievable. but it isn't flawless, currently a VS1, some might argue VS2, or higher or lower; but i am sure none will say it isn't of the highest colour, the most important parameter of a diamond according to a friend who is a dealer.

the not particularly well chosen doubles and the inconsistencies in hair/jewellery, etc., are certainly problematic. would have been less sou if the director had decided to be more particular, especially given the kind of story being told and the passion with which we all watch it. we know barun's every turn, line, tenor; sanaya has the slimmest arms in the universe, a nice plump upper arm in white badla chiffon will somehow not convince, while distracting at an intense moment. one can go on about the doubles issues. but i'll leave that to the diamond cutter.

and gaze longingly at the stone of perfect colour; come, dazzle me. through the 10x when i see the flaw, i turn my eyes and shift focus a little till i am only looking at the brilliance and fire. this is what i did last night.

fireflies, jonaki; "jugnu," she said and smiled, for a second there was the khushi i'd met many months ago. the repeat telecast had not one, three fireflies. his face lights up brighter than everything at her smile. lovely lovely moments. his second gift to her. pity she can't keep them. but that kalash is there with all its symbolism.

i never expected them to have the s word, but if it had to be, that was fine. in these matters i do trust the writers, director, and other creatives. apart from the two months post wedding, they've gone to places no soap has gone before. and in that period also there were the five days of holi with sparkling, heart stopping sequences.

but barun and sanaya in that room were riveting. beautifully structured sequence, the lights and fireflies one end, the hit on her head as he drew her into his arms at the other. in the centre: love, desire, the smoulder of passion, a man who knows it all who will love her so much that he will protect her from his own eyes if need be; a girl newly all woman, inexperienced in the ways of physical love, tremulous, worried, unable to cope with her own desire. in a darkened room, two pure souls seek to find each other, pristine white creates pools of brilliance in the deep blue night.

beautiful shots of arnav and khushi: he drapes a red curtain for her, he sits on the hay and asks her how did she know, their fumbling through the answers, his eyes fall on her shadow and start to change expression, the curtain is pulled back, she in left foreground while he in bg to the right head tilted as he looks at her, so much in those eyes. and that sublime play on the hay. not a trace of lewd, not a single cringe moment. beautiful.

last night i couldn't think beyond barun and the drama of the episode. this morning i suddenly noticed the shamrock. yes a three leaved clover framed on the wall of a hut in the middle of a jungle. and what was that mark on the door, a swastik? stranger still, clothes including dreamy white chiffon with twinkling badla, red blouse with tantalising dori, lanterns, hay, fireflies, kalash, practically everything you need! shamrock! what was going on? then came the white hanky from a very un-pristine source. what, the dear goonda's wife tucked a clean fair kerchief in her man's pocket every day.

i don't read harry potter, but somewhere in the forum over the weekend, there was talk of this being the room of requirement. of course, in jest. i have read alice though, and the feeling of falling down a rabbjt hole kept coming back.

remember heer ranjha? away from all of this there is a place for us, where we can love, our ranjha had said. what if this room was in a different reality? they're running, away away from it all. and suddenly behind a wooded area a clearing and a room with all they need and so many signs and symbols. to me, it is definitely suggestive of parallel dimension. a space for these two appears out of nowhere, fairy tale like. the beast will become prince here in the dark, beauty will be left sleeping. a shamrock will speak of the imminent defeat of the evil leprechaun who sits on the pot of gold, a white piece of cloth will spell surrender. fireflies, kalash, did i see a lotus drawing on the wall?

no, nothing was there by chance or accident.

the diamond cutter is trying new cuts to bring out the real fire in the stone's centre. and if indeed what i sense is true, i like what he's doing. the idea fascinates me. and it's been made such good use of. takes the viewer away from the ordinary and in a layered ambience, the keys to the story are laid out.

and if i'm just imagining things, no problem, at least i took the mind to places other than the office and the mall.

long post, sorry, people, just had to ruminate.

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Cynthia Abruzzo DeSiena

@cinthiann1758

Inactive

+ 3

Posted: 11 years ago

#697

Originally posted by: ArshiHamesha

Cynthia 👏

What a heartfelt piece
Seeing him tied and in dreams of his Khushi is really a struggle.He is tied in between his insecurities and his love which he wants to embrace but still struggling..he made an attempt and said and declared his love by his confession .

But any human being, in this condition is hard to see and he is dreaming to love and to be loved...

Thanks Cynthia for capturing is state of mind so well.unbearable though...

Thanks Faiqa, for reading and your comments. Is it really unbearable to see our Arnav this way? I was a little happy that it would take this kind of situation for a stubborn man like him to open his eyes. His suffering was necessary, in my POV. ASR was a stubborn and arrogant man who would not tumble easily. All his misconstrued misconceptions needed to be sorted out and if it took this way then so be it! I will explore all his feelings during the scenes all in my pov of course!

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Mysticaldivine

@Mysticaldivine

Stunner

+ 10

Posted: 11 years ago

#698

Originally posted by: aarwen

Faiqa di I liked your write up more than the actual episodes. Some fabulous edits. My favourite was how the bangles are his mothers and the payal her mothers and how they have a hand in bringing these two together.. something so positive in this thought.. that they were always taken care of by there mothers.. maybe someone would write a story where their mothers with devi maiyya plotted to bring these two together.. what a happy story that would be.

Also thank you for all the nice comments on my 263. I loved your comment and it is here too about how Khushi was non judgemental in her love for ASR as she knelt before him. And how he trustingly submits his face in her palms like a child.. beautiful..

Rhea 😊

Thnx for taking time .Love your thoughts.❤️

Rhea, he never needed a redemption PERIOD .But as NANI said he always punish himself when he can'tdo anything for some one who is in trouble and he did put her enough trouble and before going to the Airport, he was avoiding her WHY because he couldn't see her going through with all of that pain and distress she's been going through because of the revelation and he didn't like that either while he was standing in that balcony of GH.I always hated this thought of redemption and that sorry later was unnecessary too.

Yes mothers were always involved in their union from Devi Maiya to his mother who directed him always on a right path no matter how disturb he was.

Edited by ArshiHamesha - 11 years ago

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divsarunfan

@divsarunfan

Sparkler

+ 2

Posted: 11 years ago

#699

durga akka poem is emotional akka
very well written👏👏👏

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divsarunfan

@divsarunfan

Sparkler

+ 2

Posted: 11 years ago

#700

Originally posted by: DurgaS
Disclaimer: Please do not copy my work anywhere. If you do, please give credit.

Episode 250 - 251

Kahaan hai?

Mere khamosh kamre mein chupke se aake

Gungunanewali wo jhankaar kahaan hai?

Kahaan hai timtimaate taare?

Deewar pe lagke, itraata Salman kahaan hai?

Mere berang almari par karke kabzaa

Usme bhare huye chamkile rang kahaan hai?

Kahaan hai wo shaitani mizaaj?

Mere dil ko choota wo alhad muskaan kahaan hai?

Jab wo khud rahe door, toh kyun poochta hai man

Jo kare baar baar pareshaan, wo kahaan hai?

Kahaan hai wo raahat, ke main chal diya door?

Aise mein dil ko milta chain kahaan hai?

Translation:

Stealthily entering my quiet room

And humming, where's that wind chime?

Where are the twinkling stars?

Where is that boastful Salman on the wall?

Taking possession of my colourless wardrobe

And filled with shiny colours, where are they?

Where is that mischievous temperament?

Where is that naughty smile that touches my heart?

When she herself stays far, then why does the heart ask

The one who harasses time and again, where is she?

Where is the relief that I am going far?

Where is the peace of mind that I should be having now?

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