Blast from the Past Thread #29 **Aana To Tha Hi** Pg 23, Epi 346 - Page 11

Originally posted by: kizh72

Rhea, loved the quantitative approach to 329-330! Fantastic 😆

Originally posted by: indi52

<font size="2" face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif">^^^

kizh,

i saw that scene with his sister just this morning, while downloading. yeah... the crux... that promise, sense of duty and love, of paramount importance to him. and the other thing also absolutely important... and a decision taken... clearly not right, and yet...

a great character will face great challenges, i guess... and in his/her tackling of these the beauty of the character will come through i guess.

most of the writers were men... a few women worked on ad hoc scenes i think... a janaki v used to work with gautam hegde... but gul khan was the boss, practically the creator of this tale... where does this killing of a child fit in?</font>

Originally posted by: indi52

episode 331

he saw her dori was coming undone...

he played with her, held her in his arms, pulled her in.

"chhoriye, hume chhoriye," she demurred, perhaps thanks to force of habit. they were in a public place virtually and the man in a brown suit looking rather princely was asking her to do things she was so wanting to do willing to do perhaps even waiting to do a la eliza dolittle's father, yet, how to? ladki you are, sharam you must have... besharmi is the exclusive right of the laad governor.

"really?" he murmurred provocatively. if anyone knew kkg's heart and mind it was possibly this man... only him.

a rabba vey took the moment on a dizzy trip, an intimate possessive moment, bodies intimately nestling against each other.

his hand moved to her hip, just where her lehenga's waistband sat and pushed slightly, turning her around.

his hand reached a place she had no notion it had reached and brushed against her mehendi... and took his share. there is no separation perhaps in this love, no yours and mine... he would not put mehendi he'd said and then decided otherwise... once he'd casually picked her dupatta and rubbed haldi off his face, leaving her marked perhaps, today he wants her to mark him it seemed... something so sensuous and giving in that gesture at once... aah from his look from earlier I did think he had decided on putting that mehendi, but this brushing of her hand, I wasn't certain if it was deliberate. I still don't know.

maybe it was not there in the idea, but more in the acting... might have been just sensuous otherwise, not such a sexy surrender.

she was losing it in the meanwhile. one of those rare occasions when we'll see khushi come undone at the nearness of this man, his compelling sexuality managing to penetrate her perennial happy sweet girl demeanour... making her feel like a woman, go a little crazy, crave, shiver all over, forget her to do list for a moment, just give in to him.

such a man woman moment and explored with such grace. again i have to wonder at the chemistry that is so touched by light joy gripping excitement absolutely enchanting and absorbing, arousing yet without a single streak of darkness or something sort of sleazy embarrassing it is... never seen this kind of sexually explosive chemistry without a trace of the unwholesome.

it's a rare thing... please smart producer, grab it and use it in your next film, telefilm, whatever.

with absolute concentration, the man who had snapped her dori once, in a secluded room when they were utter strangers, tied her dori slowly, making sure it was secure... shielding her with his body.

something had pulled at him when that dori had come apart and pearls had scattered and a girl had flung her hair over her back to hide her body, looked back at him with tears in her eyes... maybe something in him yearned to set that right every day, in whatever way possible... he wasn't a brute, an egregious monster, the moment had made him so, for all that had lain torn in him she had touched and yanked hard at... without knowing... without ever meaning to.

the mehendi soothes him perhaps, tells him with its saffron touch, a hurt ends, colour returns... reminded me of the day he had given her a bindi and all the dhakdhak... always a little game a little winning in his moves...

when she would have walked away he held up his hand, his head down just a little, like a little boy showing what he has done... a plea in his eyes maybe? why did i think of the day he held the payal up and showed her by the poolside... something so very touching in his expressions, then and now... it seemed to say, all of me... take all of me... oh come here you.. a biiigg hug.. i thought of the same moment.

a little mark of mehendi sat on his left palm. her mehendi.

she had said no to his embrace earlier, her mehendi might get spoilt... but now she had to run to him and hug him close, happiness in her eyes, her smile, her heart.

were there tears in his eyes...

a chance at happiness for a man who had lost all sense of it when he was a mere boy.

bit by bit a heart healed and hoped again, tried to believe... but would life leave asr unbroken this time?

unaware though wary of the deceit around him, he danced... giving in to her and nk's persuasion... of course he might have seen danger lurking in his home right before all, but right then an old ipk devise, lights out, came calling and he never saw shyam... neither did dadi see garima... a foolish hide and seek and one whose consequences would be horrific continued.

she is handicapped, she is pregnant... her own husband is going to smite her... a sadness mills around me... what was this, was this even necessary?

a delightful interlude with bua ji and nk had started the episode.

"bahut sarmate ho tum nand kissore..." bua ji had yelled at the quaking nk, you are too shy. he of course couldn't control those visions of bua and he about to tie the knot, she in her fancy white wedding gown...

"abhi se gala sookhne laga beha ke naam pe!" your throat has started getting dry already at the thought of marriage, she teased in her loud bua way... the thought of what is to come in 332 freezes my brain, nk's horror film is about to start.

Originally posted by: aarwen

Episode 331

For a second I thought she needn't have coaxed him for mehendi or to dance, but then there was a wishful yearning in her voice that became softer as she pleaded, "bas ek choti si boond". I thought of all the times I have wanted the one I love to watch this show with me, to be a part of what I enjoy, to be a part of me. I saw myself in her. A girl in love wanting to share her world with the man she loves. there were moments one absolutely identified with khushi. in my case, it was usually during the fights. 😆

She wants that too and asks for it. An implicit right, that he has explicitly stated is hers to grab and exercise on him. "haq hai tumhara" he had claimed, then added, "mujhe pe". And he had a haq too on her.

The ceremonies, the dance, the mehendi all make her happy, but what she really wants is for him to share that joy with her. He has even succeeded in making her this comfortable around him that she slips into a gentle feminine coquetry, that intermingled a demand and a plea. Dance with me, it sings today. Put a dab of mehendi on yourself for me, it insists today. nice writing.

Though he dismisses the idea his face had grown thoughtful as he walked away. The very first watch I knew Khushi was about to have her desires fulfilled. The man had just admitted to dadi he was ready to move on with his life. Willing and wanting to give happiness a chance. With that declaration one just has to dance.

The girl who always loved to dance seemed a little lost. Her heart was not into it. Her heart was busy with the one that made it race and her eyes continued to search for him. He watched, slightly far from the crowd. He has never been part of it. And even if he tried I think men like Arnav Singh Raizada are born to stand out from the rest. It is in his DNA to be distinctive. Actually, in this case I don't know where he got that DNA from, most probably his nani. 👏 and i am whistling wildly too. yeah, not in his dna to be part of any herd.

Devi maiyya was not to be idle today. The perfect lead to set past wrongs right, and have wishes come true tonight. He has always loved to watch her dance. Been mesmerized as she flowed gracefully or moved full of vibrant sanka. His eyes catch her dori, which has always been an integral part of this love story. Once ripped, forever bound.

He beckons her. A softening in the gaze is apparent. She will follow him today. Perhaps there is so much magic sprinkled in the air for the lovers tonight that they no longer need to be physically near the poolside. The halls are decked with fairy lights. Two gorgeous young lovers remain shrouded in its intimate light.

A slight curling of the lips, he moves to hold her. She is his. She hastens to point out her mehendi. His lips curl a little further. He likes her carefree, untroubled, joyful. And he also likes the feeling that the mehendi has his name. She has it on herself because she is to be his. In fact, for him, for all intents and purposes, she is already his wife.

So, with complete right his hand reaches out and curls around her waist drawing her into his arms. Her eyes widen. That was unexpected. She wriggles and asks him to let go, taking care her mehendi isn't smudged. With a self assured smirk he challenges her, "really?".

The first time I was so breathless with where his hand had landed and how it had wound around her and pulled her close that I had failed to comprehend what he was saying. i have a feeling i was in saansey ruk jaaygii state too. 😆Later I understood.

He knew she wasn't really objecting. He has actually always been very decent and in control around her. Even in that hut he had lowered his eyes till he could not take his gaze off her. Now with each ceremony his touches become more maddeningly intimate, his smile more playful, his gaze more ravenous. Its languid, and thrilling, and delightful all at the same time.

She stops trying to free herself, and a giveaway smile appears on her lips. In the smile she acknowledges what he already knows. She knows she is safe in his arms. She likes it there.

His expression turns serious and slowly his hands lightly brushing against her he turns her around. Hi hand raises along her mehendi clad hand. She is panting, I hold my breath, what is he doing? Something I didn't expect.

He is tying that dori for her.

There are so many different levels that this story plays out. We don't need a blatant reminder how and where this particular memory played off. Its ingrained in the involuntary visceral tug inside us when we watch. well said. say dori and something tugs.

The intensity in his gaze reminds me of the dark furious man as had ripped the same girl's pristine pearl dori. I remember him turn her delicately as his fingers skimmed over her back disentangling her from fairy lights, entangling himself more firmly, eternally, with her. The scene where he opens her hair to cover her exposed back from another man's gaze also plays before me. He wanted to protect her then too, but he did not have the right to tie that dori. Today he does.

Life rarely gives us chances to fix the wrong we make, but Arnav Singh Raizada has always realized, repented and done all he can to correct it. In front of such a man fate had to bend. If he hurt her then, he heals himself and her today.

He then moves to kiss her. She smiles, a beautiful shy smile, even happier than a second before when she realised what he was doing. And though she runs afar, she has to look back at him.

He stood with his head bent. A strange intensity in his gaze. The first time I wondered what it was about. Even today for an instant I forgot and eagerly anticipated. What could possibly have garnered such a feeling?

To this same music they had danced not to long ago. He declaring his love openly for all eyes to behold. For her to experience. Even that day as this melody dissolved into each particle in the intoxicated air, his hands had caressed her, his piercing gaze had implored. If that dance was a declaration today was the culmination. The love he showed was solidifying and cementing itself. A sense of hamesha had made a mark on his hand, in their hearts.

He eyes held an untold depth. For a minute I think he believed in the divine. His hand had a spot of mehendi. Perhaps there was trepidation in him of how strong this feeling was. Perhaps he never knew, never dared to think he could be this happy.

His face was the same one I had seen as he had let the payal dangle from his raised hand. Sometimes words aren't enough, it was in the look that said it all. On diwali he didn't know what it all meant, today its crystal clear. It is love. A beautiful glorious satisfying love.

No wonder it moves her to tears. She rushed to hug him. Again that smile in him. He has opened his heart to the feeling and let himself get engulfed in it. Even when she left he remained standing with a smile on his face.

Of many things I was happy. No body doubles so Sanaya and Barun could be comfortable in their body language. A familiar elevating melody in the background. And moments of a strong reminder of how blissful the show can make me feel.