👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼🎉🎉🎉 when are you gonna write for me at The FM 😂 but in all seriousness this is wonderful! And I learned so much about shiva and shakti!! Thank you so much for the tag.Originally posted by: Deltablues
I am about to write an entire thesis on Aru :
But, fuçk, man! Aryan Singh Rathore is a cultural reset. I cannot even gush about him more. What a well-etched and well-performed character! I always harp about how Arylie have Shiva-Shakti parallels but it really is true.
Shiva is the primeval man— masculinity defined, personified, and exemplified. Shakti is the feminine Nature. It's somewhat essentialist, but this is the basic premise in all ancient religions. The unity of masculine and feminine power that leads to creation of life.
But this essentialist motif only goes so far. Shiva and Shakti are also indivildual entities independent of each other. Sure, Shiva channels and directs Shakti's unfettered energy, but Shakti isn't subservient to Shiva. They are creative when they are together. Ardhanareshwara. 50-50 partners.
Aryan is the perfect masculine archetype. If there was one word to describe Fahmaan's portrayal of Aryan, it would be "hypermasculine." The man can fight, he wields power and authority, he commands every room he enters. Yet, oh my god, he isn't toxic. He isn't insecure in his masculinity. He accepts his mistakes, rectifies them to never be repeated again. He accepts that he messed up in dealing with his trauma vis-à-vis his jeeju's death. That compartmentalising and channeling all his pain into an abstract badla did not actually lessen the pain.
How easy it is for romantic heroes, itv or otherwise, to trauma-dump on the women they love? How easy is it for romantic art to transform masculine pain into anger, and the heroine into the vessel for such misplaced anger? Aryan is a fuçking rarity, nay, a paradigmatic change.
As Shiva is inert without Shakti, Aryan seeks for Imlie's companionship to break his self-inflicted isolation, but he doesn't want her to waste her life in a 'heal-Aryan-mission.' And yet, his masculinity makes room for Imlie to not only disagree with him, go her independent way, but also to accept whatever diametrically opposite results she might yield. He is a fully engaged partner in the kitty party sting despite thinking that Imlie would not gain any new info. He's, again, 100% receptive of the info that contradicts his views.
Again and again, he takes up the role of the sutradhar, he doesn't overtake when Imlie fights. He did so in the brothel fight— directing her only when she needed— just like a good sutradhar. "I trust my wife" doesn't only extend to her interactions with her insecure and adamant ex; that trust is pervasive in every sphere of their interaction. Trust in her judgements, in her intelligence, in her decisions, in her power despite her younger age— all the things she lacked in her previous relationship. When they disagree, they openly argue with no rigged results. Aryan isn't patronising or infantalising.
So, he doesn't become a domineering kinght in the shining armour. He is a guardian angel who has become the equal partner. They fight together as they did against Purandas.
He cannot deal with any sort of power imbalance between them. So, when he fuçked up during the prelude to their marriage, he negated every ounce of his selfish desire to restore the balance of power. That's what he did again when he let her go after the Purandas fiasco. There is no trauma-dumping or emotional blackmail. He lets her go because he thought he wielded undue power over her. As simple as that. He cannot take even a power imbalance so mudane as an "aap-tum" differential between them. A staple of almost all ITV romances, including the iconic ones.
How damn easy is it for the experienced romantic alpha hero to overwhelm the inexperienced heroine? A trope so common that one cannot breathe the air without inhaling it. Nevertheless, as the last two episodes seethe with sexual tension and awareness — more so than ever before— it's also a play of consent and power redistribution.
The clichéd dori scene comes with closed eyes and clenched fists— with no deliberations or calculations in the touch. Imlie gives away her heart to this man not because of the sexual awareness he provokes in her, but because of the respect he bestows on her boundaries. Unlike all other portrayal of this cliché, it's not suggestive— with a quivering virginal heroine at the end. Imlie's eyes follow only Aryan's eyes, closed as they were.
He eases her into the dating process all the while allowing her knock him off by a a step or two. She laughs at the ridiculousness of the mock date. In her mockery and easy laughter lies his ease.
Can we now talk about Shiddat 3.0? Fahmaan, my man, what an actor you are! Take a bow. It has been impossible to take my eyes off of you this entire week.
Shiddat again simmers with the intensity of Aryan's romantic love for Imlie, and their mutual sexual tension. It's his letter of love to her, after all. Yet, Imlie takes the lead. She initiates the dance. And Aryan follows— all his love and emotions and care— all the intoxicated reverie expressed within the boundaries set by Imlie.
Even the discussion on Aryan's past experience comes without gloating or patronisation. Imlie isn't made vulnerable due to her inexperience. There is no shame or shyness here. ITV strives on many cliches, but the way Arylie deconstruct and destroy these clichés is what makes them so damn enchanting. The writing and the direction team deserves every damn thing in the world, but I just have my heart so full with Fahmaan and Sumbul's subtle acting that justifies the genre as well as tge script to the T. In Aryan Singh Rathore, we have a true-blue pathbreaking romantic hero. He is the cultural reset— a new mould altogether.
Sumbul-Fahmaan, just take all the awards and the praises and the accolades uff.
CID
Geet - Hui Sabse Parayee
