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episode 47
hume
aapki koi baat nahin sunni... nafrat hai na aap ko hum se hamari aukat
se... hamari shakal dekhna nahin chahte hain na aap... toh khush ho
jaaiye... kyunki hum aapki nazron se hamesha ke liye door ja rahein hain... lucknow ja rahein hain hum... hamesha ke liye.
khushi!
i hear him calling her name out in the guest house. and in his sleep. on a hastening heartbeat. in an aching store room. a cliff top. by a pool. across distance. and today it echoed deep within. dare i say it... in his heart. if you listened carefully you'd hear it. her name on his lips had a different sound. there was a different bite in it. as though he exhaled on her name, as though he wanted to draw her in the next instant. and never let go.
tragedy at a young age had taught him to keep his heart far from hurt in a place impenetrable. thick walls of indifference had been put up to protect the tenderness within. unemotinality was the quest, its holy grail. the fort of faraq nahin padta.
and it had succeeded in keeping all out. until she came.
but now that she had said what she had. now that she was leaving. forever. hamesha ke liye. before he could tell her what he'd been wanting to these past few days. something he had to. now he just couldn't take his mind off those words. again she'd lashed out in hurt and pain and hit him hard. the first time it was in his home: to hell with you and your job, also aspersions on his character; he was callous, uncaring, capable of sending someone to danger, even mortal danger, merely to win a bet. he hadn't said a word then. he'd wanted to say something ever since.
and now she was going away, he'd never see her shakal, the face that roamed his mind free, breaking barriers, entering hidden corners and niches. it felt like a blow to the gut, even worse than all those insults that day. thoughts of her cascaded. he was handing her her dupatta, looking away, mindful of her awkwardness without that essential piece of garment... she was crying, how that bothered him... and then the most difficult one, she's saying she's...
if you go away on this summer's day
then you might as well take the sun away...
he stood their unable to extricate himself from his thoughts, the most delicate and touching music wrapped around them, there was no anger, just a float into a place he couldn't resist. if i didn't know all i knew of him and that hard exterior he presented to the onlooker, i'd say he was bereft. and this did bother him. for survival depended on that faraq nahin padta. if he let things matter, he'd finally get hurt.
"jaa rahi hai toh... mujhe kyun faraq pad raha hai. sochna nahin chahta bhoolna chahta hoon fir baar baar ussika khayal kyun aa raha hai?"
if she's going, why does it make a difference to me? don't want to think, just want to forget, then why her thoughts again and again?
he's sounding vulnerable, weary almost, worn down by this power of hers over him. he is most unused to this. he doesn't want it. yet, faraq padta hai. he has just said it.
whenever the two were not together, the directors and screenplay guys at ipk found all sorts of ways to keep them together in our mindscape. in this episode, it was the devise of intercutting. smooth transitions from him to her, then him again.
she's rolling a chapati listlessly. mind elsewhere. she's with him. now that she's lied and created a situation that would take her away from him forever, she's plunged into gloom. her rakshas, her laad governor... she was going away for hamesha. her thoughts of him as compelling as his of hers.
... he's falling atop her, her gaze suddenly meets his and locks...
... he's yelling at her to listen to him while he speaks "lemme finish!"
suddenly, the anger's gone, he's handing her her dupatta, unobtrusive, respectful. restoring her dignity which was trampled upon one harsh night in lucknow.where his thoughts had started, hers end. they seemed to meet on this memory, transcending barriers of reality, in some other space.
she snaps back to here and now and says the tickets are done. payal had asked for ghee.
crossfade to him, still watering plants. when anjali found him and saw his lost expression and the overflow of water from the pot, she knew he needed help and she stepped in to offer that. only, she got the reason wrong.
"kya soch rahe ho?" what are you thinking, she asked
"kuch nahin..." his voice sounded soft, unfocussed.
she assumed this state of mind was to do with lavanya. and since she herself was unsure of la and her relevance in chhotey's life she asked if he were happy.
"tum khush to ho na?"
he asked with what. considering he'd just had a major showdown with his grandma, and his brother in laew had manged to work out a situation that let his girlk friend move in with him. considering he was bringing her home that very day. one would have thought he'd be quite ecstatic about the situation. "kisse?" really?
an interesting insight from di about her chhotey and his ego. she wonders if the la thing really hinged on his ego rather than a decision based on the right reasons. his ego was always big, he hated anyone questioning him or not agreeing with him. it would get him realk angry. "aur waise bhi... tum jab gusse mein hote ho toh tumhara dimaag band ho jaata hai, aur tum gusse mein josh mein aake hamesha galat faisla lete ho." and when you're angry, your brain shuts down, and in that state you always end up taking wrong decisions.
isn't that pretty much what happened one night on a treacherous terrace?
but today, we'll talk another central theme of ipk. dil vs dimaag. heart or head.
"enough di..." he countered, "i don't take all my decisions because of ego... plus this life is mine... which means, everybody should not be interfering in it... and if this indeed is the most important decision of my life... then i'll still say lavanya is perfect for me... she's never refused me till date... our thinking is similar... neither am i interested in marriage nor she... she understands me."
di comes in beautifully, "and you? do you understand yourself?"
"aise faisle sirf dil liye jaate hai... dimag se nahin." such decisions are taken from the heart, not the head.
"sorry di, there's a huge difference between the two of us... i don't get emotional while taking a decision."
little did he guess what was coming next.
"pyaar toh dil se hi hota hai... pyaar toh bas ho jata hai." love comes from the heart, said anjali, you can't calculate and calibrate it, it just happens.
at "pyaar" his eyes went still, his mind was touched. hey hey hey... rabba vey came as if on cue and...
di went on, "ke jab aap usse dekho toh uske chehre se nazar hi na hate..." when you see her you can't look away from her." there she rose before his gaze, beautiful in red, shy, gorgeous, an unspoken complaint in her eyes.
"agar woh udaas ho... toh kuch bhi achha na lage..." if she's sad, nothing feels good. and he saw her crying, cowering, and he so bothered by her tears.
"usse door jaane ka khayal bhi aapko pareshan kare," even the thought being away from her will upset you. oh, why was she saying that? saying, "i am going... khush ho jaiye kyonki hum aapke nazron se hamesha ke liye door jaa rahen hain."
sochna nahin chata, bhoolna chahta hoon. he says he doesn't have time for all thsi stuff. and moreover, if such a girl should come into his life, he'd make sure he stays away from her.
hamesha had walked in yesterday, today came another core asset of this pyaar. saansey. breath. ipk writers had a vision of love that scaled the ordinary and attempted to really understand the nature of love. and there they possibly found its kinship with faith. we are often asked to pray with the name of the eternal on each breath. as though dedicating the gift of life to its creator. those who have loved deeply and long will know that at times love indeed does feel like a prayer, like faith. as inexplicable, as inexorable, as elevating.
this creative insight into love and its saansey was, well, breathtaking.
"woh tum kar nahin paaoge..." you won't be able to do that, said di, all believing and utterly sweet. she who had only faith in her love. tragedy sometimes is just the shattering of a simple belief.
"kyun?"
"kyunki tum agar uss se door gaye na, toh tumhari saansey rukne lagegi," for should you stray far from her, your breath will stop.
needless to mention, this brought on the lopsided smile, killing viewers, and to complete the decimation, "you are... unbelievable, di."
khushi remained unhappy, and when her mother spilled the nbeans about the shop, she decided this was a very good reason to go back to lucknow, ah now she needn't think it was to run away from her feelings, now there was a fine and noble cause. but her face never lifted.
asr went to pick up la. she was lovely in red, but he barely noticed. her need for him was contrasted perfectly by his control over his emotions. her body leaned toward him, he stood unyielding. her eyes glinted, his were opaque. i have always felt a little sad for lavanya, because in one matter he was right, she did understand him, and she grew to love him in the finest of ways. he realised that too.
just once they flared, when she turned away from him while he was talking. he remembered khushi saying, i won't listen to anything you have to say... i am going... hamesha ke liye.he gripped la's arm and spun her around, and said to her all that he wanted to say to khushi as she ran out of the store room, leaving him locked there...
"jab main baat kara hota hoon toh poori baat sune bina beech mein mooh mat moda karo... main tumse kuch kah raha tha."
when i'm talking, don't turn your back on me without letting me finish... i was telling you something.
on that "main tumse kuch kah rah tha," there was a rasp in his voice, a plea it seemed to me beneath that. he hated anyone walking away while he spoke, but with khushi it was more than that. he needed her to hear him. vitally. and what it is i wonder, he wanted to tell her.
what sound was that
i turn away into the shaking room.
what was that sound that came in on the dark?
what is this maze of light it leaves us in?
what is this stance we take,
to turn away and then turn back?
what did we hear?
it was the breath we took when we first met.
listen, it is here.
~~~ harold pinter, it is here (for a) ~~~
(i quoted this beautiful love poem in a post on crooner. but this is where saansey came in and i wanted to dedicate a special one to saansey, so once more, it is here.)
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