Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon


Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon
Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon

indi's index, from the blast from the past pages (Page 14)

kizh72 Goldie

Joined: 04 June 2013
Posts: 1693

Posted: 05 June 2014 at 9:16am | IP Logged
Originally posted by indi52

this is not FUNNY
about 10 minutes on the third of july: wrote this on 6 july at a time when i wouldn't really write on the main forum. i was terribly touched by that sequence... even now as i read through, quakes in me... i think he callled her 47 times, yeah, i tried to count. one count i gave to a mere "kh-" because he just made it all sound perfect like the word khushi belonged only to her.

the first almost 10-minute sequence of the 3rd july episode was one of the most beautiful i've ever seen anywhere. we all remember arnav frantically looking for khushi, finding her, and bringing her back to consciousness. i was fascinated by everything in that scene, including what was said, with words and otherwise.

for diehard ipkkndians, here's the text of arnav's dialogues on that day. much laughter has been shared over how many times he said "khushi." i think i managed to catch all of them. count if you are a stats freak. just read if you wish to go over those moments again, minus visuals LOL.

right at the end he says something very interesting. no need to say anything.

starting second sequence of 3rd july till last evening, 5th july, that's what he's been doing: not saying anything. or is he actually saying everything without uttering a word?

in these words of 3rd july lie the roots of many things we'll be seeing from now on, i feel. so, a ready reference. enjoy.





he's looking for her scanning the ledge and the trench.

pause, he sees her.

smiles and makes his way to her:


rabba ve enters as he reaches her.

khushi, khushi, everything is fine... khushi! sab theek hai.

he gathers her close and draws her away from the slope.

rabba vey under. 

cut to shyam's call.

back to asr and khushi on level ground.

he checks to see if she's alright, notices her hand lying limp.

guest house fb, nainital fb, remembers how she's always held on to him even while unconscious, and now her hand is motionless.

khushi... khushi... khushi... khushi, don't worry, sab theek hai, khushi.. everything is fine(shaking her gently) main bhi theek hoon... we're safe now, khushi.

looks at her face, perplexed, worried sick.

khushi, tum kuch bolti kyon nahin... (voice thickening)... khushi, say something, dammit. 

growing urgency, shakes her face.

khushi... what... khushi, baat karo mujhse... (voice rising with an edge of anger born of extreme worry) khushi, say something!

khushi!! khushi! khushi.

crash of thunder, music, he sees blood on his hands from the back of her head.

khushi! khushi! khushi, talk to me dammit! this is not FUNNY!

lifts her hand and starts rubbing it.

khushi, kuch bolo!! say something... please say something, khushi, khush-!

her hand falls to the floor, lifeless. crash.

he's nonplussed. mournful music strains in. he's beginning to panic, close to tears. looking at her face, imploring.

please kuch bolo na, please say something dammit, KHUSHI!

looks at her face cradled in his hand. hugs her to him, crying.

looks at her again.

khushi, khushi, wake up please.


checks to see if she's breathing, hand below her nostrils. nothing.

noooh... apni ankhen kholo, khushi please please... just breathe... just breathe, khushi... i'm telling YOU TO BREATHE DAMMIT!

lays her on the ground, starts pumping her chest.


khushi, wake up, please.

flashback only voiceover then visual: 

khushi: phir aapke zindagi ki sabse achhi aur ranjhe ki zindagi ki sabsi buri ghadi ayegi. 

arnav: matlab? 

khushi: hum mar jayenge.

he starts and shudders at the memory of the heer ranjha scene.

pumps with determination.

khushi! khushi, wake up dammit.

voice wobbles even as he tries to stay in control.

khushi, say something to

another memory in voice only this time: 

khushi: samajhiye hum bhi tara bangaye... raat mein daayen se tisra, jo sabse zyada chamak raha hai, wo hum hai.

he keeps pumping.

no khushi, you can't do this to me, khushi.

he won't let her go, she can't just die. mouth to mouth resuscitation. no use. he is desperate. in ragged whisper.

khushi, please say something.

strokes her face.

khushi, please say something.

pulls her face close and in tears, eyes shut, presses his lips to her forehead.

looks at her face tenderly.

voice thickening with tears and emotion:

khushi please, please khushi... khushi, mai tumhare b-!

he cuts short the bad bad thought.

tum mere sath aisa nahin kar sakti, khushi.

he's wilting under the weight of the horrific thought.

sobs... khushi... don't, you can't do this... sobs

remembers at the poolside he's told her that day of holi: 

jab tum meri paas hoti ho, to tumhare dil ki dhadkano ke saath saath mere dil ki dhadkane bhi tez ho jaati hai... hamari dhadkane ek ho jaati hai.

he lifts her hand and places it on his heart. holding her close he rests his head against her sobbing.

heart beats fade in dhak dhak dhak dhak. her fingers flutter, he is unaware.



hm! she says!

his eyes fly open.

hay hay hey hey hey rabba vey. 

he looks at her, she coughs, breathing in, he wraps her in his arms. hugs her close, gently rocking. 

strokes her hair and looks into her face.

tears choke his voice.

you- (i think that's what he said)

she tries to speak: arn-av-j-

he cuts in:

sh! sh! kuch bolne ki zaroorat nahin hai.

after this, there's not a single word spoken.

she lifts her hand and strokes his tear and blood stained cheek. he turns her palm and puts his lips to it, a joy filled kiss. tender and sweet. again he turns her face and kisses her forehead. music floats around them.

he folds her in his arms again, smiling delighted that she is here, here in his arms and alive.

rabba vey.

they just sit holding each other close, taking in the moment, one with the hills, greens, trees, sky. temple in the background.

rabba vey plays on.

he gets up, places her dupatta on her shoulders. she struggles to stand up, he moves to pick her up. 

her fingers reach up to hold his vest. 

a beautiful moment as he sees this. she is doing what she's always done, even when unconscious. 

he is absolutely ecstatic, turns and smiles into her eyes. 

he picks her up in his arms, they look at each other, a pause, he smiles, then starts walking.

he walks with her in his arms as he has done many times before.

she snuggles there easy, he is tall and strong and striding confidently, her dupatta floats, the temple looks on.


wrote this on barun sobti - actor par excellence thread 9 page 19 in reply to momma1128's post... 

(credit uploader on YT)

hi anu,

i open last page, and this is right on top. those 10 odd minutes on 3 july hit me so hard, couldn't sleep eat think anything else for days. "this is not FUNNY," the voice hitting crazy notes, wobbling. i had to watch it repeatedly and get each and every word that was said. he said khushi maybe 70 to 80 times, don't remember the count... twice that also wouldn't pall i bet. i took down the entire dialogue and posted it here, classic piece of work.

asr could not have been done by any other actor, i am sure. most people can do dark or light, but this intensely layered chiaroscuro of contrasts, with the subtlest of shadings in between...nah... really can't think of anyone really. 
God, Indi Di, here I am, at work, trying not to bawl my eyes out! Please don't stop.
I posted something on Durga's birthday thread yesterday, a humourous (I think Confused) ode to your writing!

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indi52 IF-Sizzlerz

Joined: 27 March 2012
Posts: 21177

Posted: 12 June 2014 at 9:22am | IP Logged
from crooner 73: messages... do peep in.
khushi i love you and what came after.

from page 4
last night at 12.30 after i finished watching, had a silly smile plastered on my face and wondering should i hit youtube for a thousand views or rush and see if the new crooner's on.

oh i love the mush and the cheesy and the corny (poor khushi, what does she know about mikimoto, but not to worry, by the time he's out and they are into his dream sequence, we'll make sure she does, right?)

guess which song had been playing over and over again at my place last evening when i got an sms from my niece (avid phhann gurrrlll and fan fiction writer), she wrote: be ready to die of happiness today :D.

at around 12.37 last night, that's just what i did, jhoom jhoomke.

see you soon with a little note on my thoughts and a ponder on who's da boss.

there was blood on his forearm. i second your suggestion to the cv's: enough hunt for award shaward, ab band karo yeh downmarket ishtyle torture and put on the ac dammit!

from page 9

so who did it?

and who Cry Cry Crydid that to my poor baby!

after much thinking, have to say, no "got it!" moment yet. but one idea rushes in repeatedly and refuses to leave me in peace. 

keep getting the feeling a parallel chess game is afoot. between opponents more formidable than karpov and kasparov. i can see sp and ph on either end, there's trp's, money, and a strange new element called ego. "so you think you have such a mega fan base, such a fab lead pair, and such a wonderful core idea that you can get away with anything?" yeah, i definitely see plenty ego, plus too many unnecessary and complicated moves (spoilers, interviews, is he/isn't he, let's keep the fans on a special diet of starvation followed bouts of excess.) yeah, i also see dead people. i think they are called writers, poor things are metaphorically in the same state as above mentioned poor baby. 

my gut feel, "who" depends on what will be the outcome of this game. two, if not more, kidnapper/boss options have been conceived. first: the obvious choice, our snakewa, clues galore to lead us to him nice and easy.

option two: an enemy from a subplot that has been slow cooking for long, somewhere in and around sheeshmahal, in arnav and khushi's past. at the right moment, this delicate morsel of dastardliness will be served up for all of us to ooh and aah around and hate with utter relish.

if in the end, ph resigns, ipkknd will go for early wrap up and snakewa will be the murga.

if sp blinks, ipkknd will go on (yay!) and option two will reveal himself. or herself?

i am praying for option two.

and if i am utterly off the mark, do feel free to LOL LOL LOL your head off at me.

on page 13

haven't read everything yet, but two thoughts came to mind regarding the episode. will write down first, before they go away.
"i am a woman in love"
he said "woh baat" in a way only he could say. after that i was left looking at her.
when i first met her she was a girl. last night i saw her transform into a woman. 
what's more, a woman in love.
we followed her single tear with joy in our hearts, she cradled the phone close and she smiled. and there was a different khushi. 
not the one who had rushed in with her "aanchal" held out to collect the shower of stars that she believed would fall when one is in love, as per chat with devi maiyya. 
nor the young woman who jangled the bangles he'd given her (the only thing he has ever given her till date) as she stood smiling to herself and said: if anyone had said to me laad governor would give me bangles and be so concerned about my welfare, i'd have never have believed them.

from that smile on, right through the walk down the corridor, remembering the incomplete "farak padta hai" moments to his submission: i love you, up to her room, i watched khushi grow into a woman. 
she walked into her dream, assured and lovely in his favourite colour. tremulous smile (who says mills & boon doesn't teach you anything), but confident reach out of hand. 
she looked into his eyes, unafraid. his expression changed. was he about to explain? without any hesitation she silenced him with a finger on his lips. khushi doesn't need explanations. she knows what matters. hmmm nice.

i have to say i loved khushi's version of the perfect romantic interlude. khushi, the girl, chose the physicals. the awful earrings (that cuts deep as i am a earring fiend), the tacky bag in which the precious string rested, the funny candles, the run around the pool. aw i loved that strange chase by our man. WinkLOL Smile if i can see him tied up and bleeding, i can see him dopily running after her, perhaps asr really feels like running around trees sometimes, let the boy have some fun!

but the emotions of the entire sequence was pure Khushi the woman. i loved the way she turned away from him and ran, a definite invitation to follow her there. if we found the seen corny, bet so did barun and sanaya. i looked at their expressions a zillion times to detect a false note. not one. they had a beautiful chat instead, just through looks and smiles. oh, that lovely lyrical hug, the hand moving up her hair, the remorse entering his eyes, then his intent gaze as that funny bottle and note appeared; but what really mattered were those three words. and their effect.

some beautiful intercutting between her smile holding the phone and his tortured face as he disconnected.

arnav and his happiness.
inspired by crooner's ponder upon pearls and the repeated reference to this gem of the seas by the writers.

arnav means the ocean. this arnav is an ocean held back. hardened by life. a protective shell around him.

khushi means happiness. and she is free flowing, generous, all that her name means.
between them scatter so many images of pearls. strings snap and they fall like teardrops everywhere. unbroken strings appear in dreams and bring smiles. pearls are found in pockets, in nightmares.  

when the diver plunges to the bottom of the sea, will she find the pearl in the depths of the ocean? will happiness reach find the ocean's perfect heart and bring it to the surface? 

pearls symbolise unblemished perfection.
a few references to pearls i found here and there: they are the oldest known gems and for centuries, the most valuable. the latin word for pearl means unique. pearls can be symbol of tears as well. to the ancients, pearls signified the moon and was said to have magical powers. 
if i find some more, shall add later.

oh these pearls intrigue me.

Edited by indi52 - 12 June 2014 at 10:42am

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indi52 IF-Sizzlerz

Joined: 27 March 2012
Posts: 21177

Posted: 21 June 2014 at 12:00pm | IP Logged
a simple love and damn the...

it was a simple love.

why it should be felt was always hard to decipher and describe in mere words. it was just there and you wouldn't have it any other way.

it was a feeling you got at a certain hour of the day that made you a bit breathless, sometimes a little anxious, but you always wanted it to come, and you thought it would never go away. for me, that hour was 12 midnight... the witching hour if i am to recall something read in college.

but really it was the bewitching hour.

first telecast of the day's episode of iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? in singapore. i'd stay up no matter what, the room darkened as everyone slept, but i had to catch the show.

who goes crazy about a hindi serial? i no longer need to ask that question, because i know. but it was the best kind of crazy really. it made you feel, it made you think, it made you write, it made you connect... and it let you break free.

sometimes of yourself. your arid notions of what life is or isn't, of what love must or mustn't be.

it made you fall... so very beautifully.

when it was taken from me, i couldn't believe it. impermanence, etc., other philosophical thoughts i toyed with... but nothing would assuage the hurt... nothing would fill the gaping hole in my heart.

my voice choked whenever i thought, this is it.

even though so much had been robbed of the pristineness of iss pyaar ko kya naam doon? even then.

for it was untouched at some level, always pristine. forever pure.

a thing i loved so simply and without prejudice.

in a desperate bid to cope, i turned to a brave thread that said, beginning the monday after episode 398, we start watching the show again right from the top. blast from the past. i went there without any resistance, tired and scarred and... and aching and riven by the battle of the last two odd months...

how many letters phone calls frenzied posts.

but they would take it from me anyway.

thanks to that thread started by doc and risha, i pretended, i sort of stayed sane, i said i can do it, let's be mature, etc., and other things.

what i could never say was it's only a show.

i couldn't.

i didn't even try to.

it was what it was and it meant what it did.

i have constantly said, "i" through this post, though i know it was really a tale of many of us. many many. some of them watch ipk with me on that thread. and as we go deeper into the tale, somehow the suffering only increases. funny. every now and then the "how could they do this" feeling comes out of nowhere and blows a dry wretched storm across the thread.

and sometimes we go nuts writing poetry about hate. crazy happy nuts. who could turn hate into music but a man and a woman by a pool on a beautiful night.

and pyaar? who could feel it the way they did?

or show it the way only they could?

with an evil dance after getting the laad governor all rattled and knotted with a simple dupatta fling and a "swami". swami. i am guffawing and feeling crazy and thinking silly track, but flat out sold am i on it anyway.

with a brusque "zara dekhke" or a gentle "heer" or a through gritted teeth "kyunki tum meri patni ho..." or a whispered hoarse turmoil raising "main hamesha hamesha tumse..."

i was watching 227 and he yelled "damn the kartavya!"

i felt the world go quiet around me. and a feeling rise. all i wanted to do was plead, scream, beg, yell to anyone, everyone, gul, sp i don't care who to please bring it back. bring it back to me.

i have no idea why i am posting this. just a thought. maybe you'd like to talk about something here? look forward to your feelings. happy sad mad glad whatever. and here's to yelling shouting screaming hurting dancing maddening love.

wrote this beginning jan, 2014...

Edited by indi52 - 21 June 2014 at 11:57am
indi52 IF-Sizzlerz

Joined: 27 March 2012
Posts: 21177

Posted: 30 June 2014 at 8:11pm | IP Logged

Edited by indi52 - 30 June 2014 at 8:32pm
indi52 IF-Sizzlerz

Joined: 27 March 2012
Posts: 21177

Posted: 21 July 2014 at 1:10pm | IP Logged
from crooner 1.18 smokes and scars, page 3... the night asr tells khushi about the suicide.

rebecca. one of my mother's favourite books. faded, cracked cover in pale green with a woman against a warm background, a house burning down. memories. smokes and scars.

waiting to read.

just read your reply. my mother would often speak of it. and i did read it once many years ago.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ adding on ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

to borrow from the first line of rebecca.

last night i dreamt i went to sheeshmahal again.

last night i saw two things. one was just a moment and that moment held me still and blown all at once. the other was the story, the love and hate story, the episode.

i would like to talk about that moment today. and priya, thanks for the quote that spells out a crucial part of it.

"the worst part of holding the memories is not the pain.
It's the loneliness of it. memories need to be shared."

                                       lois lowry, the giver

chauda saal ka tha mein jab meri maa ne suicide kiya. my mother committed suicide.

how many times since the age of fourteen has he heard those words inside his head? how many times he has woken up to them first thing in the morning, words that put a bullet in your brain every time. you feel it in your head, in your heart, your skin, your gut. it stampedes behind your eyes, it lacerates your mouth, it clogs up your ears and your nose. yet the words never go away. sometimes you have felt so much you can't feel any more. they just become words that you throw around within you thinking you can escape them, thinking you can go past them, thinking you have managed to internalise them and make peace with it. but you know that's not true. you are scarred everywhere. you just hurt. time doesn't really heal.

somewhere along the way, you begin to feel the need to share this unbearable pain with someone. not that they will make it go away, because no one really can. but because you don't want to be alone in there with your unforgiving pain. what you'd held so close as yours and yours alone wants you to open a door. let someone in.

but who will this someone be?

someone you love? of course, but even more important. non negotiable. someone you trust.

the threshold she crossed today was that of trust. the other crucial piece of that moment. you want to share but only with someone you can trust.

as she rushed in after him, spilling out her heart in those five odd sentences: i didn't mean to hurt you, i just wanted to make you feel better and i don't know what's bothering you, it's fine you never told me, i don't want to change you, if you don't want to tell me it's...

his mind released, his heart said, it's safe, she won't harm you, his soul said, at last. he turned and let the words out. he has been waiting to say it as his mind says it to him for so long. i could hear the years in that instant.

she heard him, through all her unpreparedness, her lack of any experience in dealing with such things, and in the midst of her own confusion, she heard him clearly and she knew what to do.

her arms went around him in an instinctive rushed hug, like first aid, like e.r.; then as she herself calmed she put her arms around him again, this time gathering him into her, reminded me of the time he held her on the cliff bringing her back to life. she brought him back from that edge of darkness and death this time, he cried. his tears again said, i trust you.

what do you do when your father betrays your trust, completely shaking up your sense of trust itself? and your mother is gone suddenly, in a gunshot, in a moment, along with her goes love?

he stayed a prisoner of that moment, trust and love forever an issue. as he said that day of his parents' barsi, no one understands, they only think they do.

today somebody did understand, and he took his first step toward freedom with those words.

the writing, the very thinking, the direction, the execution, every bit of this scene including the lead up and the morning after were inspired, outstanding. khushi deciding a song along with cute loving would make him feel better was a masterstroke. pure khushi, had she broken into serious talk he may never have been able to tear down that heavy iron door suffocating within it his scream.

what stays with me, and may stay perhaps forever:
arnav singh raizada whirling around and two sentences quickly uttered, in a rush before that heavy iron door containing his scream slams shut once more. then a still, blown away moment.

i have been part of a such a moment in someone's life once. maybe because this person also blurted it out just the way arnav did before something could come and stop him like always, that i felt everything rang true. we are in the hands of fine story tellers indeed.

arnav has crossed the first threshold, may he pass easy through all those waiting as the smoke seeps out, as the gate opens, the conch shell blows and the battle begins, and he dreams of sheeshmahal again and again, but now with khushi, not alone. till one day there is no more again for that dream.

Edited by indi52 - 21 July 2014 at 1:04pm

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-ChildOfChrist- IF-Rockerz

Joined: 29 August 2013
Posts: 5236

Posted: 21 July 2014 at 1:50pm | IP Logged
Thanks for the index!

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indi52 IF-Sizzlerz

Joined: 27 March 2012
Posts: 21177

Posted: 22 July 2014 at 8:45pm | IP Logged
at some point while writing about iss pyaar ko and asr khushi... poems started to sort of float up to me... i am no poet, but i let the words come.

many are part of takes... am adding a few here separately.

Ying Yang

right at the end of the episode 267 take, this one. really these two reminded me again and again of keats's ode on agrecian urn and the unforgettable "beauty is truth, truth beauty."

did you see the look in his eyes

planets perhaps shifted
when he lunged

was there ever in truth a line to be

if there was, a crossing would be

love dictated, desired, demanded

the lover and the beloved stand

in a hut in the gloam between here and
somewhere else

beauty and truth their indelible tie

Edited by indi52 - 22 July 2014 at 8:47pm

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indi52 IF-Sizzlerz

Joined: 27 March 2012
Posts: 21177

Posted: 22 July 2014 at 8:49pm | IP Logged

266 started with two poems...

lost are worlds within me
on the edge of faith have i stood long
and watched my temples burn
taken from myself
tied by the treachery of turbid love

in the gloam stars did stop
lost have i roamed the darkness
grasping at the night
and wrapped it around
made it yield to the might within
with hands i fought to break free

and yet lost i was

till the twilight said
amid the barrenness of deserted time
what if i lost you

out of that stopped star
that trenchant stubborn darkness
did you come streaking out
in unstoppable carmine flow
and grasped the phantom shadows
and wrapped with shining faith
seeking what had been lost
so many darknesses ago

and you found me
dhoond liya tumne

my arms rise and hold at last
my feet stay firm at the edge of faith
red pulsating do you flow
and return to me every lost world of mine

theek ho tum?
how can i be when you are not
in my arms
safe and dominant and ascending
and angry and indomitable and...
arnav ji

yes, just that, only that, hamesha that
arnav ji

how could i be if you aren't there
to torment and tether me
to wrap me in your darkness pure
to the heart of which i flow
only to find
light, just that, only that, hamesha that
aakhir humne aapko dhoondh hi liya

when i find you
why does it feel as if i found my lost worlds
each one of them
aisa kyun hota hai

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