Posted:
Indu, I'm with you on that towel dance. For me it was more that ASR didn't have to do it. The real Khushi wouldn't have expected him to do something like that. As we all know the characters had been played with a lot by that time. Indi di, you introduced me to that poem. Loved it. Found this reading by Michael Ondaatje himself on Youtube. You probably have watched it. Posting anyway. [YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3A2ekfA8Kn8[/YOUTUBE]
Credit: Youtube/uploader
kizh,
that was lovely. no, i haven't watched it. in fact, i had almost stopped looking for and reading poetry on my own when ipk came along.. then the frustration and so the knock on forum threads. it was while writing in crooner, tat i started going and searching for poetry i had neither any reference to nor imagined existed... i found this poem there. i am quite sure i wrote it for the towel dance episode...
okay, i had to do this... went and found what i had written in crooner.
here's my first reaction in crooner 1.40.
but even down on his knees he looks like the man in command. a.do.ra.ble.
this boy is something else. to actually get to that point where he's dancing alone, no sanaya to hide behind, then with that outrageously funky towel move, his only cover that deadly innocent charm. uff. bless him. may he be all he is meant to be.
and this is what i wrote in crooner 1.41: ishq wala love... page 3
and yes, i did find the poem for this episode
takes cojones (in the strictly english usage of the word) to do what asr did. what barun did.
and this is what i wrote in crooner 1.41: ishq wala love... page 3
and yes, i did find the poem for this episode
takes cojones (in the strictly english usage of the word) to do what asr did. what barun did.
it "reduced" asr to super cool lover. it signaled barun is indeed that ephemeral thing called star.
shimmy shimmy. one two bend flip. towel two towel four. mujhse shaadi karogi?
i couldn't breathe when he said "love can reduce anyone to anything." there is a strange and dangerous to one's health truth in that statement. and when he started his number with that little sexy pose i was prepared to sit back and enjoy but not leap up and hoot; and collapse into helpless laughter yelling "so cuuute." breathing had become difficult again.
priya, tui theek achish? 😆
this post is devoted to a man in black.
first update.
i came across this poem by michael ondaantje the other day, was reading him for the first time. no knowledge, judgment, nothing, read the poem and the words jolted within me. hit me hard and wouldn't leave. a bit like barun that first time i saw him. some things really can't be explained.
the poem's erotic images kept playing asr and khushi in my mind. i had to share it with you. just waiting for the right reference. then he danced. and the poem said, write me.
"if i were a cinnamon peeler
i would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.
your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. the blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbor to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. this ankle.
you will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.
i could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
-- your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
i buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers...
when we swam once
i touched you in water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
you climbed the bank and said
this is how you touch other women
the grasscutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
and you searched your arms
for the missing perfume.
and knew
what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in an act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of scar.
you touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
i am the cinnamon
peeler's wife. smell me."
he has left the yellow turmeric paste mark on her. he will ride her bed no doubt. but when the hatred descends and the night is bereft, when a thousand dreams break, and there's separation once more, she will know his scent is on her. he makes love to her. and the dance goes on. she is arnav singh raizada's wife.
second update.
great number, that crooner of yours, priya. destroy asr? never. you are so instinctively clear: yesterday took asr to another level. some truths our gut tells us, our brain processes much later, and our heart feels its joy for long afterward.
yes, the fact that he got his girl. got what made her feel good. the fact that he was willing to shed inhibitions, step way out of his comfort zone, because that smile in her heart gave him a high, a spin, a buzz. it mattered more than his hard held ideas. he was willing to cross the line he'd drawn. that took him to another whole new level.
and then there was the execution of this decision. stop stop stop goes the heart, fingers slow down on the keyboard. did he plan it ahead, did he do an impromptu? does it matter? one look at him in his close hugging long jacket and narrow pants, legs endlessly long but planted firmly, face unmoving, except for the glitter in his eyes. you knew asr is here, and he'll make an offer you can't refuse.
it didn't matter i wasn't a salman fan, i'd never seen the towel step, i had no resonance with the song, in fact, had thought it was a pretty ordinary song before this. all that got through was the determined can do-ness of a beautiful man, a bit awkward yet hypnotic, a keenness in his eyes, a trust in his body, even if he didn't know what he was doing, he'd get it better than everybody. and he did.
a friend who'd never seen barun properly before but thought he was good looking in stills was sitting by me watching, she kept laughing and saying: wow, he's so cute, like a kid, so fresh, wow. today she said she hadn't slept much last night, kept on thinking of him. i smiled. happens 😆.
the low angle shots flattered his build and looks no end. his teeth, priya, those front incisors. added something extraordinarily sexy to expressions.
he held out his hand inviting her to join him, then strode over instead to get her on the stage. asr takes command. always.
"will you marry me?" in the language he is comfortable in, but words weren't required, the heat and passion mixed with adoring tenderness, even your utterest sanak can't make you look away from that.
beautiful moments scattered across the episode. the "dream" sequence as he can't help but imagine things, gorgeous. her look into the future that showed his yearning so clearly: could tomorrow be so wondrous that yesterday would stop torturing him? we all have our right to dream, and dream our dream with someone.
they weren't anything like each other. yet they were absolutely alike where it mattered. which is why lines could be, had to be crossed. no need for proof to trust, no need for just my way. all i need is you, khushi, i need nothing else.
1. he took of his shades and turned to the man begging for his attention and said: hai na... chachaji.
2. he walked as though drawn by a force unknown toward her, in control, completely out of it. the water in the pool swirled, lamps glimmered, all thought disappeared.
3. he drove, looked up at the sky, roared ferociously at the elements; at betrayal and the breaking of dreams.
4. he sat with her still body in his arms on a cliff's edge, begging her to return, come back to him. he said his name forty three times, some said 75.
5. he did the towel dance.
five scenes that stir in me; in each, the incredible evolution of asr.
i learnt something yesterday, i had never really known it before.
love can reduce anyone to anything. it can reduce carbon to diamond. it can reduce emotions to epiphany.
mujhse shadi karogi?
more in black:
1. i do have a crib i confess. i am not connecting to khushi as well as i want to. is it the writing that's making her tad too strident and sp bahu? or is it performance? or both? no idea. gut again. khushi kumari gupta is far more than this. i hope the problem corrects soon. asr and kkgsr need the other to be completely themselves.
2. whom can i send flowers to for the three amigos scene? and how many times will the man who never wanted to marry say shadi, now shadi, only left shadi?🤣
3. while it's lovely to show a merging of thoughts an things as side effect of pyaar, the "what the"s and the "relax" repartee from khushi is beginning to feel too pat.
4. kauon ka party. 😆
5. i want lavanya to jump out of a cake and vamp asr. c'mon let's see how devoted our man is. 😉 maybe kkgsr will arrive to make an offer he can't refuse?
6. the necklace scene was beautiful.
7. yeh shyam abhi bhi ajeeb hai, aur dadi ek puri ajeeb dastaan hain.
8. anjali on that towel dance doing her girly one, intolerable.
9. barun sobti is a find.
10. when i was having a minor affair (in my daydreams what else) with harrison ford, my husband bought me a book on him, two turtles called harrison and ford, and the entire indiana jones series. i didn't mind that i was called indi. i reminded him of that just now and he snarked: hah! how fleeting is thy love! 😆 he also said if i wanted to meet barun, he'd arrange it. uff, towel dancer, kahinke.
Mannat Har Khushi Paane Ki
Cricket
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