Posted:
Reliving IPK
Episode 116
Devi Maiya ki marzi.
It was over. He stares emptily at the file folder in his hands. She was gone.
A key ... Did she leave it ? Is this another hold over him ... Enraged, he picks it up, ready to fling it across the pool ... A forgotten memory jolts awake, grabbing his hand ...
The Mazar at Lucknow ... It is his key ... She had rushed after him, her white Duppatta held around her face ... Zara suniyay, aap ki Mannat ki chabbi ... He had been shocked to see her ... He had known then, the jasmine infused white duppata that had stayed his path, that had held him captive for a unforgettable moment, flowing across his face ... It had been hers. His Mannat ki chabbi ? He had shrugged disdainfully, and told her to throw it away.
She had not thrown it. She had kept it ... for months ... just as he had her pearls, her Payal. And now she had returned it to him. This is what she what she had come here to do and he had snapped so viciously ... This truly was the end ... She too was cutting him out for her life ... He sees blood on the table and remembers his push ... Khushi ... He mouths, his voice a pained whisper, his hand fisting possessively over their shared talisman.
She is at the temple, vowing never to think of him again, praying to Devi Maiya for her loving benevolence. She should know by now, her prayers are answered instantly. She feels the breeze ... A harbinger of his presence ... His SUV speeds in, parking in rushed carelessness ... He strides up the temple stair. The Devi's Duppatas flutter around him in festive approval. He may not believe in the Devi, but he doesn't need to ... He just has to follow his heart ... And his heart will not let him stray too far away from her.
She stands before him, not five feet from him, completely unaware of his presence, battling the breeze and her stubbornly clinging duppata ... Finally, she frees herself and lifts her eyes to stare directly at his face ... Her Devi has answered her prayers ... He removes his aviators to look at her. Their eyes gaze as if it has been ages since they last saw each other ... All the bitterness of the last meeting vaporizes instantly, for that one endless moment ...
Not an hour has passed since the time she left his home, since they both had stoically proclaimed, Tumsay baat nahin karni hai, tumhari shakal nahin dekhni hai ...
And yet they are here, in front of each other, in a temple. Try as they may, they cannot fight the hand of destiny. The stage is being set. The stars are lining up, one by one, in a precise, rehearsed formation. Each, sure of its part, each, hushfully vigilant. They stand, ready to perform, in silent, pre-concert like nervous anticipation ... The auspicious moment fast approaching ...
He steps up to her. Khushi, he says. An everyday casualness coats his voice, as though all that had transpired an hour ago did not happen. He should know by now, she will not make it easy. She walks past him, only to stopped by the arrogant urgency in his tone. His back to her, his head turned sideways to address her, he enunciates rapidly, Khushi, mein tumsay baat kar raha hoon, tum asay nahi ja sakati ...
She turns to him. His back is still to her. He needs to hear some hard truths. Kuon nahi ja saktay? she contests, childlike. Her life, her decisions ! She can do what ever she pleases ... And moreover, she no longer works for him, so he has no haq to "arder" her around ... Her voice rising, her eyes blinking rapidly with each bravely issued throw down.
He turns to face her, her courage dips a tad, before rising again to face him. His eyes flash her the warning that he hides behind the brief grit of his teeth ... Don't talk to me like that ... He gashes through his teeth, his temper on a slow sure boil ... She throws all caution to wind and juts her chin out, Kuon ? Kya kar lagay aap ? And turns to leave.
He doesn't wait a millisecond to tell her what he can do ... He grabs her by her shoulders and pulls her within inches of him, his body towering over hers, his head bowed into her tilted face. She struggles to free herself ... There are people watching ...Yeh kya kar rahay hai aap, Choidiya humay ... She gasps at his audacity ...
He takes his time, waiting for her to calm down, then releases her shoulder. She steps back. He slide his hand down her arm to her injured hand wrapped in her duppata end. She filches it away, the moment she realizes his intent. He gently clasps her wrist, slowly bringing it up and slowly frees her hand of it temporary binding. An inch long bloody gash slanted across her ring finger ...
He looks at it, Tumhay ... his voice pebbled with emotion ... He looks up at her, Tumhay choat lagi hai, he states the blatantly obvious, his tone brisk, matter of fact ... What choat is he talking about ? Either way, she is not impressed with his medical diagnosis. She yanks her hand free and steps back further, Toh ? Aapsay matlab? Stop fussing, he admonishes. Tamash mat karo, he accuses. Tamasha ? He is the one doing all the Tamasha, she lashes back. He grabs her wrist and warns her with his eyes ...
She continues to struggle, until he takes out his handkerchief, and softly dabs the gash. She hisses in pain, he looks at her, his eyes softening, and just like that, in an instance, they both fall into place, their paths, that were on different trajectories, once again prepare to meet ... To merge ... to intersect ... to knot together ...
For the second time, at the stroke of an appointed, auspicious hour, amidst tolling temple bells ... amidst auspicious trumpeting sounds of the conch ... amidst spiritual chants, with divine blessing fluttering in the air, they pledge their unbreakable bond. The knot that was tied at Teej, is strengthened some more, the vows reaffirmed ... Their timing propitious ...
He had come prepared. He unfurls a white gauzy bandage and begins to wrap it around her injured finger. The chanting in the temple intensifies ... The bells chime in a rising crescendo with each turn ... This is no ordinary event ... The evening sun dips low in the sky ... to meet the rising moon ... The connotation of the moment is lost on neither ... the believer, nor the godless.
She stands still, her bewildered eyes scanning his face, yet knows what this means. They are being bound, by the promise of his actions ... He is placing his claim on her ... They are being blessed by the divinity that surround them.
He stands, his head lowered, carefully working the bandage around her finger, completely aware of the solemnity of his actions ... He knows what he does, with each wrap, he ensures she is his and his alone, multiple redundancies built into his bandage. Over and over and over he wraps, safeguarding his claim on her. No place left for a counter claim ... No room for another to slip in ...
Moments later, she asks him, her voice heavy with confusion ... Aap humsay kya chahatay hai ? He knows not how to word it. He had just told her what he wants of her. Her by his side ... His own, bound to him ... Months later, she will admit, that she was his from this moment on.
He does not ignore the priest, he just doesn't believe in such organized rituals. The irony of their own ritual is not lost on him. He stares after the priest. She is horrifically disapproving of his perceived insult. How can he do this ? He reiterate what she know. He does not believe in god. Battle lines are drawn again. She reminds him, he does not control his destiny, all that he does is because of her Devi Maiya. It is her marzi. And he reminds her, he does exactly what he wants ... Not a thing less ... Not a thing more ...
He had done exactly what he wanted to do ... He has made her his, in spite of all the olds against them, he has bound her to him. Is he flirting with her idea of destiny ? Is he safeguarding her, despite his lofty claims ? Is he challenging her so called destiny ? Now take her away from me if you can ... I have claimed her, she is mine from this moment on ...
And once again, for the umpteenth time, both foolishly reiterate, Tumhari shakal nain dekhni hai ... Tumsay baat nahin karni hai ... The two things they want more than they want anything else ... They turn their backs to each other and move in opposite directions, only to turn and walk side by side, in the same direction, across two ends of the temple plinth. The directions of their paths is aligned, their separation, not a separation really at all. It is bridged by none other than the divinity that is colluding to bring them together ...
Dailymotion video ... Enjoy ...
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x10fx56_ipkknd-full-episode-116_shortfilms
Cricket
18