Originally posted by: Manan_Pani_fan
I like to have an analysis of Shagun. She felt like an enigma. She was a fascinating character before she broke up with Ashok. After that, she just become a vamp that she was so not.
She staged a suicide drama and almost killed herself just to show her hold on Raman yet at the same time she longed to be Mrs Ashok Khanna!! What contradictions!
Sharing a snippet of my story as an OS in response to this post.
I've always thought that Shagun's character had lots of potential as an antagonist. Considering that she was given so much screen time on the show, I hoped her characterization would've been fleshed out better. I couldn't digest her sudden flips between evil black and swan white. I would've liked her as a grey character. Plus, Anita had the capability of playing a grey character very well.
I find it very interesting to think about how Shagun became the person she turned out to be. Abuse doesn't appear in a vacuum. It's very possible that she was raised in circumstances that made her the way she is, causing her to met out similar treatment to her son. Did her mother inadvertently teach her such abusive tendencies? Or is she a narcissist at heart? Because Mihir grew up in the same house, and he turned out very different.
Or did Poornima's upbringing differ for Mihir and Shagun? Did she treat them differently? Or did her tendencies affect them differently? The entire Poornima-Mihir-Shagun dynamic has a lot of analysis potential, in my opinion.
Did the absence of a father affect Shagun and Mihir's growth? Was Shagun looking for affection from men which she never received from a father figure? Did Mihir latch onto Raman and come under his wing looking for a father figure? Who knows.
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(Story below starts after Adi's custody is given to IshRa and Ashok has also dumped Shagun)
Night Moon Bar & Club – 7 pm
Shagun washed down one martini after another, alcohol burning her throat and tears scorching her face. She had hit rock bottom, and she saw no way out. Her entire life flashed before her eyes, as she pondered exactly how she ended up here.
She and her brother had grown up with a single mother – Poornima Prakash – in a tiny low-income tenement of the inner city. Their mother had worked as a secretary, barely earning enough money for them to scrape by. Their circumstances had never bothered Mihir. He had always managed to satisfy himself with what they had, keeping his head down and focusing on his studies. Consequently, he had grown up to live in Raman's shadow, keeping his head down and focusing on his career.
But Shagun's ambition ran far and wide, even as a kid. She was never satisfied. The bland upma in her lunch box paled in comparison to the luscious pasta in her classmate's lunch. Her second-hand bicycle lost its color when it stood next to their neighbor's shining new bike. She wanted more. Her own limelight.
She discovered said limelight as a teenager, when her features sharpened and her femininity flourished. Boys flocked to her with flowers and chocolates, and for the first time in her life, she left desired and coveted. She had inherited her mother's beauty, and she quickly learned how to use her sexuality in her own favor.
While she thrived as a teenager, her mother shriveled under the burden of being the sole breadwinner for the family. Her stress increased at work, and she took it out on her eldest daughter.
"Why can't you do anything right?!" Poornima had yelled one night, when Shagun had accidentally served her mother a burnt roti. That night, her mother had gone to sleep without dinner, and Shagun had slept with a heart full of guilt.
Nights like those were infrequent. But even so, Shagun internalized the frustration her mother rained on her.
"Completely useless girl," her mother had muttered one night, throwing away her report card, when she scored a measly 68%. "Be more like your brother! Look at this! 93%!" she yelled, waving Mihir's report card in her face.
That was the first night Shagun had felt resentment instead of love for her brother. That was also the first night she had found her mother fidgeting with a bottle of Old Monk.
"Vodka Martini." Shagun ordered another drink and gulped a swig of vodka, as she recalled one particular evening. Her mother's boss had visited them to return some of her belongings she had forgotten at the office. And she had found them in the living room, his hand climbing up her arm, which her mother had uncomfortably shaken off.
"Please sir, I've told you this before. I'm not interested," she had insisted.
"I don't understand Poornima," her boss had replied. "Your husband hasn't been in the picture. And it's been three years since my wife died. We'd be perfect for each other. I have so much to give you. You and your kids could move into my bungalow. You'll never have to work another day."
Shagun's ears perked up and her eyes brightened at the idea.
"That's very generous of you, sir. And I... I'm very tempted to say yes. But..."
"But what?"
"I can't. What would people say of me? How would I show my face to the world? A mother of two running off with her boss..."
"Poornima, you need to think for yourself and your kids. Not for the outside world."
"It's not as easy as you think, sir. I just... I can't agree to your proposal."
"Very well. Then this is the last time I'll bring it up."
Poornima's boss had never showed again, much to Shagun's dismay. Their chance at a better life had shown up right in their house, and her idiotic mother had shoved it out the door. That night was Poornima and Shagun's first vicious fight, ending in shattered glass, dented plates, and broken hearts.
Their relationship saw their ups and downs, as Shagun progressed through high school. More and more boys threw themselves at her, and she loved the attention. She learned how to pull their strings and make them dance to her tunes. She dressed for the male gaze and carried herself with confidence. Therefore, it didn't come as a surprise when a modeling agency recruited her in the first year of her college. She had fought with her mother and left for Mumbai within a week.
But the cutthroat world of modeling was not made for her. She returned to Delhi within a month, much to her mother's dismay. Scared for her daughter's future, Poornima had hurriedly fixed her marriage to Raman Bhalla. Shagun had her doubts, but her mother convinced her otherwise.
"Beta, he earns more in a month than I earn in a year. Woh tumhe palko pe bitha kar rakhega," she had urged. "Please, rishte ke liye haan kar do na?"
It was the prospect of increased income that finally convinced her. They were married soon after, and she felt happier than ever before. Raman doted on her, took the charge of Mihir's education, and even encouraged her mother to publish her recipes in a cookbook. Shortly after, Shagun gave birth to a son, making her the apple of everyone's eye.
But that didn't last for long. For when her father-in-law lost his job, her goody two-shoes husband took on the mantle of sole breadwinner, causing her own pocket money to dwindle. Her marriage turned uglier and uglier, as she felt her childhood struggle come to life again.
It wasn't until her husband was promoted to the inner circle of his office that her troubles dissipated. They began receiving invitations to glamorous parties and she finally had the money for all her desires. But the cherry on top was when she caught the attention of the boss, Ashok Khanna.
She didn't even realize when his flirtatious comments and innocent gifts seeped into her heart, stoking the fire of passion and genuine feelings. She still remembered the first time she had sneaked out to meet Ashok.
She had left the Bhalla house under the guise of grocery shopping and met Ashok at a five-star restaurant. The dishes he had ordered were beyond anything she had ever tasted. The gifts he had showered her with were beyond anything she had ever dreamed of. It was all like a drug, and she had had her first hit.
Over the next few months, their meetings increased in frequency and her excuses turned more and more creative. What started with dates at restaraunts and cafes quickly progressed to clandestine meetings in hotel rooms. It was wrong. She knew very well; it was so so wrong. But it was oh so good.
She lived a double life, her lies building on themselves, weighing down on her. She told herself she could stop it at any time. It was all in her control. But that was not true. She tried and tried... but she couldn't stop. It was all like a drug, and she was addicted.
"Come stay with me, baby," Ashok had told her once after a secret afternoon delight. "I hate having to leave you like this."
"But Ashok... What about my son?" she had asked.
"Bring him with you. Leave your husband. I know you don't love him. You love me, don't you?"
Shagun nodded.
"Then what's the issue? Say yes darling."
Shagun hesitated. She was so tempted to leave... but it wouldn't be right. After all, her mother had the same option and she chose the noble path.
And what did that bring her? A lifetime of misery and loneliness. She wouldn't make the same mistake. She had to think of herself and her son. She had to secure their future, so Adi would never have to go through what she did. The rest of the world could go to hell.
"Yes," she conceded.
Her life changed in a matter of weeks as she served her husband divorce papers and left with her son in tow. Life went up and down, winding through rocky roads, as she went through Adi's custody trial, Ruhi's birth, and much more. But through all of it, she had Ashok and his money. That's all she needed.
But soon enough, her rose-tinted glasses had been mercilessly pulled off. She found out Ashok's true nature when he refused to marry her, choosing to pay attention to other women instead of her. But he made sure to keep her satisfied with jewelry and clothes and luxuries, so she couldn't complain.
Even so, her malaise churned in her gut. All she wanted was some avenue to express her discontent. Unknowingly, unseemingly, she walked in her mother's footsteps... alcohol. Her mother's preferred drink was rum. Her preferred drink was wine.
It wasn't permanent, she told herself. It started off as a glass of wine after a fight with Ashok, a couple drinks with her girlfriends to abate her troubles. It ended with her waking up with a hangover every day.
She didn't realize that she was repeating the cycle of abuse her mother (and possibly her grandmother) had started. Her frustration exploded in front of her defenseless son, the one person who couldn't fight back, the one person who loved her selflessly.
Her heart twisted as she thought of her son. What had she done? She had lost every single person she had ever held dear. Her own brother had disowned her. Her ex-husband, who used to dote on her, paid her zero heed. And now... her own son felt disgusted at the sight of her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to drown herself until her lungs burned.
What was her legacy? Despite chasing money all her life, she had not a single rupee in her name. Despite having men fawn over her all her life, she had no one by her side today. She had left the people she could rely on for a man like Ashok who had ruined her. She had ruined her life with her own hands, turning her into a godforsaken mess, an idiotic fool.
No... No... Her breath turned ragged and a sense of panic flooded her chest. She couldn't let this be her life. She let go of the martini glass and scrambled off the stool. There was one last person. One last person who had to help her. Especially when they were responsible for how she had turned out.
Her mother had settled in Australia with the money she earned from her cookbook sales. That was the last place she could go now. She paid her tab and quickly left the bar. As she stumbled through the dark streets of Delhi, she counted the cash she had on hand. It was just less than 10,000 rupees. Just enough to catch a one-way flight to Australia.
"I need help mom. I'm coming home..." she whispered to the wind.
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