Episode 288
It is said that the moment death beckons you to itself your entire life flashes in front of you. I don't know if that is true, but what I do know is that as Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada reeled backwards losing her foothold on the ledge and calling his name, Arnav Singh Raizada's hold on life started to slip. His mind jumped back to their first memory. The instant she came into his life. Into his unsuspecting arms. She had fallen then. But was she the only one who had fallen? Had he not fallen right with her?
Right from that first moment hey have spiraled head long clutching onto each into this labyrinth of emotions. Love arising from hate.. Hate so strong that try as hard they just could not stay apart. He had to make her his, in thought and belief as well, even when he thought he was breaking away all ties. She thought she despised him only to be proven how wrong she was.
Like indi di mentioned in her post, as Khushi falls his conscious memory freezes and solidifies on one vision. He has put sindoor on her forehead. He has placed a mangalsutra around her neck. She is his wife. ASR never did not believe in marriage. I think he believed in it too much. With all the idealistic innocent wonder and certainty of a 14 year old whose belief has been mercilessly killed. And all that remained were painful memories of how things would be if the world was the true place it should be.
But it was not. There was pain and terrible torment that life handed out to unsuspecting victims. And in this haze of pain with all her positivity, brightness and inherent goodness had stepped in Khushi. His khushi.
He would have killed Lalan of this I have no doubt. And that flash of uncontrolled fire must have reflected in his eyes. So men, who would perhaps never comprehend what this man feels for the girl who is falling, fled. Leaving a man and his wife to find a way back into life.
How desperate is his call. It reached right into you and tugs insistently at your gut, saying, feel what ASR is going through. Slipping, losing himself as he tries to get to her. And eyes that are sad and tender. Worry that is hard to describe in words as he sees her frail petite body, always full of life, giggling, eating jilebis, pagal, lay in a lifeless heap.
Khushi .. Khushi.. The sound .. It rings in your ears.. Echoing pulsating .. Till the valley resonates with her name.. You can tell this is no ordinary story. This is a tale of extraordinary love. Because he would simply die without her. Wither and crumble away, his essence blowing in the same wind that always brought with itself the message of her existence. His life would be meaningless if she did not exist.
The scene fades in and we find ourselves on an open expanse, a precipice hanging alarmingly close to death and despair.
The most pertinent poignant of flashbacks are used to remind us what he is remembering. It is like real life. When you love a person you get used to small gestures. Many which subconsciously you hold on to and very rarely the most stirring ones take a tangible shape or form. It drowns in feelings, it swims in smiles, it floats in comfort, dives in love. But though it is around it is just out of grasp.. Quick to flit away if you try and hold onto it.
But in moments like these perhaps the memories decide to stop playing hide and seek. So they congeal and allow you to drench in their beauty. He remembers her hand reach out and clutch onto his collar. Again that is the very day of his first uttered Khushi.
There is trust. There is comfort. Some primal instinct inside her knew him. Knew she was safe with him. Knew she could hold him. Knew he would protect her. Even if he left her in darkness she still will not let go. Because in his arms is the home her heart has always yearned for. A home that is not based out of kindness or out of what she has earned or deserves. A home that is just hers intrinsically.
In Panic. In agony. A scream. A cry. A call. Khushi.. Khushi..
Like Faiqa di mentioned, once he took his name something remained firmly ingrained in his being. It refused to budge. It had found his home and there was no place else to go. Unsuccessful attempts at staying away. Devi maiyya must have laughed at the fruitlessness of fighting the strongest of pull between them.
He has to reassure her. Nudge her. Shake her. Bring her back from oblivion. He is fine. Maybe it is meant to reassure himself too that she is fine. But she is not.
She is tired since long.. To fall in love, dream and then not understand why the person who was tender and sending your heart in overdrive is out to ruthlessly shatter your happiness. To be misunderstood and termed characterless, she might have borne, but to be left alone, that was unbearable. To realize he is kidnapped, he is in mortal danger. To finally understand that come what may you cannot hate him. That love is forever unconditional and never ending. To find him, fling yourself in the sweetest embrace, feel his care, sense his desire, then lose him. To talk to him within you. To let the man you despise touch you for sake of the man you have to bring back. The man you cannot live without. To damn yourself to save him.
Perhaps she needed his arms. His strength must seep into her as he keeps calling out to her.
Khushi .. Khushi.. He pleads.. Almost losing hope.. There is blood on his fingers..
But in love you can't say.. There I tried my best.. It won't work.. No, till your last breath you fight.. Sometimes even when not am iota of air remains in your lungs you still have to say her name. So he does. He cannot give up because the alternative is unthinkable. Inconceivable.
He does not give up. His right over her. He commands. He cajoles. Asking her to talk. The reticent man who has time and again told her to shut up, wants her to speak dammit. This is not a generic man in panic over his lover not responding to his calls. This is ASR and flawlessly the writers and the actor capture the essence of acute agony that he must go through seeing his life lifeless before him.
Khushi.. This is not funny..Khushi.. Still no response.. He frantically rubs her hand.. But it falls away limp..
Slowly despair threatens to finally take over.
And her fingers lie lifeless. She is not only not listening to his cry, but has also let go. He is breaking inside. Hollow. Crushing. Constricting. The thought of losing her. The way he cushions her head in his embrace. Grasping her hair, bringing her close. Rocking. Cradling.
Khushi..wake up please.. Khushi.. Begging.. Entreating.. The next second.. Anger.. How fragile she is with her eyes closed. How can she not talk.. How dare she leave him alone.. How dare she not talk.. This sense of ownership of the one you love touches something deep within me as I watch.
Again the onslaught of related memories. He has lived this exact feeling when he was play acting. In make belief the thought of her dying was unbearable and now it might be for real. And he had let things get this bad between them that she actually surmises that getting rid of her would make him happy. And then that stupid day when for a silly misunderstanding she was about to take the most drastic of step. Give up her life. But even then she wants to shine bright. His ma, her amma are stars. He has just started to believe in this and in comes her clear voice that she would be a star too.
He cannot feel her breath. He has tried hard. To set a rhythm to revive her heart. He kisses her forehead. How much he cherishes her. Sobbing. In tears. Broken.
Khushi.. khushi.. He implores.. Eyes, voice, hands, every nerve, muscle, sinew.. his entire being beseeching her.. She can't do this to him. Not now. After all they have been through together. They are connected. And how can life flow through him when she lay there lifeless.
Khushi don't.. You can't.. A hushed whisper.. And it in hidden a wail that seems to engulf us..
With nothing remaining.. A utter void.. An infinite tormenting second plays out as he takes her hand and places it near his heart. How can his heart be beating when hers is not? Again those minutes when they were connected, memories that could only overwhelm with their intensity. He had told her their hearts beat as one. Even that day she laid trusting in his arms. Vulnerable, untouched, still strangely sure as she had confessed his effect on her and asked him what it meant. How he could he have not told the truth? Even far away he has heard those heartbeats. Hamesha. For all eternity. Then how did it stop today?
He places her hand on his heart. Dhak dhak.. A beat.. A flow.. A pulse.. That brings back strength in her. Her fingers have come to life. He has missed it. A prayer in the way he says it .. Khushi.. He wants to be anchored to a firm support. Her name is that anchor.
Hmm?.. The most melodious sound in the whole wide world for him.. I can see the breath rush into him. Relief. Amazement. He looks for a breathless second. Dazed. She flutters her eyes open. He simply stares at her. He has witnessed his miracle today. There is nothing more to want. Mujhe aur kuch nai chahiye. He had said. His smile of utter joy.
She want to reassure him. But there is no need. Shhh... Words are superfluous. So are questions. Answers. Confessions. Heartbeats will do all the talking. Life flows from one right into the other. When you meet someone transcending time and space, defying death, embracing love.. they is nothing left to say.
She rests in his arms. Tenderly he strokes her hair. With no words, the actress says all there is to say, as she raises her shivering hand and cups his face. There is ethereal beauty in that frail pale hand. He kisses it. A boy and girl live their moment of hamesha.
Scooping her into him tenderly. He kisses her forehead. A gesture to tell her she is safe. And she closes her eyes submitting herself to him. He will not let anything happen to her again. And then hug her with abandon. To tell himself she is safe. Drawing energy from her. Gaining strength. And she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, arching into him. A need to have him close. Feel him.
With infinite care was the scene crafted. The uplifting melody reaching heights unknown as the camera pans out to a shot of two beautiful people entwined, breathing, in bliss. The dazzling montage of shots have a timeless quality to it. A temple in the background and greenery all around, cloudless vibrant blue skies and a still lake. There is divinity in this story, so is life that radiates and also that exhilarating inspiring flight into freedom and an unending depth.
He drapes the dupatta on her. Her respect. Her dignity. He will uphold it. He will protect her. How nice that there is someone to take care of you. Who will scoop you in his arms and whisk you away. Tell you to shh.. Don't worry.. I am here.. Her hand is back where it belongs. There is pride and joy in his sparkling eyes and a heartwarming smile. She showers her love in that caress on his cheek with a look of selfless eternal love and devotion. He looks right into her eyes with equal devotion and he walks. The dupatta dancing, celebrating the victory of love.
It was inevitable that she would wake up. Who could resist responding to such a call? Gods would have sent her right back to him such was the intensity of his summoning her back. It remains etched in me long after I have stopping watching. Even on multiple watches the beauty refuses to even slightly dim, let alone fade. A true work of art never fails to excite, they say. They say right.
As she returned from the precipice, as he gathered her securely in his arms I get a sense of passing of right. The young lovers and their intoxicating journey of discovering love has reached an elevating high which will engulf them and ensure they pass on unharmed and strong, to face what is to come.
The ASR and Khushi who returned to Shantivan are now husband and wife. A certain grown up air would enter the story.
The scene where he supports her and she leans on him while limping into the house. Symbolic of their life. Both incomplete without the other.
She tells him the kidnapper is Shyam. I wondered why his mind didn't immediately fasten on to this explanation. I think it could be because for all of Shaym's raving and ranting about khushiji, ASR never took him to be a serious opponent. No means. No resources, like Indu di said it was a self sponsored kidnap. No brains in Shyam, ASR might have thought, to thwart Mr Raizada. So, disbelief that Shyam could possibly carry out this elaborate scheme. But he believes Khushi. And the proof he asks is only for his di. His keen sharp mind senses trouble brewing.
As they enter a certain unreal sense of drama perpetrates the screen. I wonder why ASR kept quiet for long. Was it that he was worried about di? But keeping quiet only added to her panic it seems. Will talk about all this in my next take. For now want to sit and admire the beauty off that clifftop.
Edited by aarwen - 10 years ago
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