Chand Ka Ghar — Roman Urdu Romantic Love Story

October ka aakhri hafta tha, aur Karachi apni purani aadat se majboor, garmi ko chhorne ka naam nahi le raha tha. Din bhar soraj ne DHA ki sarkon ko tapaya tha, aur shaam ko jab samundar ki taraf se hawa chali to us mein namak ke saath saath din bhar ki thakan bhi ghuli hui thi. Phase 5 ki galiyon mein neem ke darakht apne patte hila rahe thay, aur kahin door se kisi ghar ka generator apni bhaari si ghurr ghurr ke saath raat ka aalaan kar raha tha. Ye woh waqt tha jab Karachi ki bijli aksar aise hi, baghair kisi paishgi ittela ke, chali jaati thi — jaise sheher ko achanak yaad aa jaaye ke usay bhi kabhi kabhi saans leni hai.

Us shaam, us corner wale ghar ke dining room mein pankha apni poori raftaar se chal raha tha, aur mez par daal ka dhuaan uth raha tha. Babar ne abhi roti ka pehla niwala torra hi tha ke pankhe ki aawaaz dheemi hui, phir aur dheemi, aur phir ek aisi khaamoshi chhaa gayi jo sirf bijli jaane par hoti hai — woh khaamoshi jismein fridge ka halka sa kampan bhi ruk jaata hai, aur insaan ko apne dil ki dharkan apne kaanon mein sunaai dene lagti hai. Chand lamhon tak koi kuch nahi bola. Phir andhera itna gehra hua ke khirrki se aati hui street light ki patli si lakeer bhi kisi kaam ki na rahi.

“Lo ji,” Naveed ki aawaaz andhere mein goonji, us mein wohi purani sharaarat thi jo usay hamesha se sab se alag karti thi, “K-Electric ne phir apna waada nibha diya. Dinner ke beech mein bijli jaana to ab riwaaj ban gaya hai.”

Zainab ne apne phone ki torch jalaai, aur us ki roshni mein chaaron ke chehre ajeeb se lag rahe thay — aadhe roshan, aadhe andhere mein doobe hue. “Tum log betho, main mom battiyan laati hoon,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein wohi sukoon tha jo ghar ki sab se bari behan mein hota hai. Nasim, 32 saal ki, woh larki jo ab aurat ban chuki thi, jis ke chehre par zimmedaariyon ne ek naram si sanjeedgi likh di thi. Woh uthi, drawer khola — use andhere mein bhi har cheez ka pata tha — aur chaar moti si mom battiyan nikaal laayi.

Babar, 34 saal ka, ghar ka bara beta, mez par kohniyaan tikaye betha tha. Us ke chehre par andhere mein bhi ek ajeeb si narmi thi, woh narmi jo sirf us waqt aati thi jab woh Nasim ko dekhta tha. Us ne lighter nikala — woh hamesha apni jeb mein rakhta tha, pata nahi kyun — aur ek ek kar ke battiyan jalayein. Roshni jab pheli to dining room ki deewaaron par un chaaron ke saaye naachne lage, lambe aur hilte hue, jaise koi purani film chal rahi ho.

“Ammi hoti to ab tak do dafa K-Electric ko phone kar chuki hotin,” Zainab ne kaha, aur sab hans pare. Zainab, 24 saal ki, sab se chhoti, jis ki hansi mein ab bhi bachpan ki khanak baaqi thi. Us ne apni plate apne qareeb kheench li. “Aur abba kehte, ‘koi baat nahi, chalo aaj chandni mein khaate hain.'”

“Abba to Lahore mein beth kar bhi yehi keh rahe hon ge,” Naveed bola. Naveed, 26 saal ka, chhota bhai, jis ki aankhon mein hamesha koi na koi mansooba chamakta rehta tha. “Un ka business trip to abhi do hafte aur chalega. Ammi bhi wahin hain. Matlab, is ghar ke chaar hukmaran hum hi hain.”

“Tu hukmaran nahi, tu is ghar ka sab se bara sar dard hai,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ne roti ka niwala munh mein daala. Mom batti ki roshni mein daal ki khushbu aur gehra gayi thi. Nasim ne sab ki plates mein aur daal daali, phir raita ka piyala aage kiya. Wohi purana manzar tha — bachpan se lekar aaj tak, Nasim hi thi jo sab ka khayaal rakhti thi, jo sab se pehle uthti thi aur sab se aakhir mein khaati thi.

Bahir, gali mein ajeeb si hulchul thi. Padosi ke ghar ka generator chal para tha, us ki ghurr ghurr ab saaf sunaai de rahi thi. Kisi ne door se aawaaz lagai, “Bijli kab aayegi?” aur kisi ne jawaab diya, “Pata nahi, shayad do ghante.” Karachi mein bijli jaane ka matlab kabhi sirf andhera nahi hota tha — is ka matlab tha garmi ka wapas aana, machharon ka hamla, aur un raaton ka, jab ghar wale majboor ho kar ek doosre ke qareeb aa jaate thay.

“Generator?” Nasim ne poocha, Babar ki taraf dekhte hue.

Babar ne sar hilaya. “Kal mechanic aayega. Wohi purana masla — self kharab hai. Naveed, tu ne check kiya tha?”

“Main ne koshish ki thi,” Naveed ne kandhe uchkaaye, “par woh meri baat sunta hi nahi. Shayad use bhi aaraam chahiye tha.”

Zainab hans pari. “To matlab aaj ki raat hum purane zamane ke log hain. Mom batti, haath ka pankha, aur kahaaniyan.”

Nasim ne khirrki khol di taake hawa andar aa sake. Samundar ki taraf se aati hui hawa mein ab thandak thi, aur us ke saath neem ke patton ki khushbu bhi. Chand, jo abhi tak baadalon ke peeche chhupa tha, dheere dheere nikalne laga tha — aadha, phir poora, ek bara sa chandi ka sikka, jo DHA ki chaton par apni roshni bikhair raha tha.

Khana aahista aahista khatam ho raha tha. Babar ne apni plate ek taraf rakhi aur Nasim ki taraf dekha. Mom batti ki roshni mein us ka chehra naram lag raha tha, aur us ki aankhon mein woh baat thi jo woh barson se chhupaye hue tha. “Nasim,” us ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein ek halki si hichkichahat thi, “tum ne aaj phir sab se aakhir mein khaana shuru kiya.”

“To? Ghar mein koi to ho jo sab ka khayaal rakhe,” Nasim ne muskurate hue kaha, par us ki muskurahat mein thakan thi.

“Khayaal rakhne wale ka khayaal kaun rakhega?” Babar ne poocha, aur us ke lehje mein mazaak se zyada kuch tha.

Zainab ne Naveed ko kohni maari, aur dono ne ek doosre ko dekha. Ye koi nayi baat nahi thi. Babar ka Nasim se ye andaaaz, ye narm se sawal, ye dekhna — ye barson se chal raha tha. Ghar mein sab jaante thay, par koi kehta nahi tha. Kyunke Nasim ke chehre par jab bhi ye baat aati, woh ek deewar khari kar leti thi — muskurahat ki deewar, mazaaq ki deewar, “tum bhi na” kehne ki deewar.

“Bas karo, Babar bhai,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ne bartan uthane shuru kar diye. “Chalo, bartan uthao. Andhere mein beth kar baatein karne se bartan khud nahi dhulenge.”

“Main madad karta hoon,” Babar foran bola, aur woh bhi utha. Naveed aur Zainab ne ek doosre ko phir dekha — aaj raat kuch alag tha. Hawa mein kuch tha. Shayad bijli jaane ki wajah se, ya shayad chand ki wajah se, jo ab poori tarah nikal aaya tha aur khirrki se andar jhaank raha tha.

Kitchen mein, mom batti ki roshni mein, Babar ne bartan dhone mein Nasim ka haath bataya. Un ke haath paani mein ek saath doobe, aur ek lamhe ke liye, un ki ungliyaan aapas mein chhu gayin. Nasim ne foran haath kheench liya, par Babar ne us ki aankhon mein dekha, aur dheere se kaha, “Darti kyun ho, Nasim?”

“Main nahi darti,” Nasim ne kaha, par us ki aawaaz mein woh yaqeen nahi tha jo hona chahiye tha.

“To phir meri taraf dekho,” Babar ne kaha.

Nasim ne us ki taraf dekha — sirf ek pal ke liye — aur phir nazrein jhuka lin. Us ek pal mein, mom batti ki roshni mein, Babar ne woh sab dekh liya jo woh barson se dekhna chahta tha. Darr tha, haan, par darr ke peeche kuch aur bhi tha. Kuch jo Nasim khud se bhi chhupati thi.

Bahir, gali mein kisi ne zor se kaha, “Generator wala aaya?” aur koi bola, “Nahi, kal aayega.” Raat gehra rahi thi, aur chand ab aasmaan ke beech mein tha. Us corner wale ghar mein, chaar behan bhai, mom battiyon ki roshni mein, ek aisi raat ki taraf barh rahe thay jo un ki zindagi badal dene wali thi — aur un mein se kisi ko is ka andaza nahi tha.

Bartan dhul gaye to chaaron wapas dining room mein aa gaye. Mom battiyan ab aadhi jal chuki thin, aur un ki roshni kamzor par rahi thi. Naveed ne do aur battiyan nikaleen aur jalayein. “Aaj raat to lagta hai bijli nahi aayegi,” us ne kaha. “K-Electric wale kehte hain ‘technical fault’, matlab kam az kam teen ghante.”

“Teen ghante?” Zainab ne chehra banaya. “Garmi mein mar jaayenge.”

“Chhat par chalte hain,” Babar ne tajweez di. “Wahan hawa hogi. Chand bhi nikla hua hai.”

Nasim ne pehle inkaar karna chaha — use neeche rehna tha, bartan sametne thay, kal ki tayyari karni thi — par Zainab ne us ka haath pakar liya. “Chalo na, api! Kabhi to aaraam kar lo. Har waqt kaam, kaam, kaam.”

Nasim ne ek gehri saans li. “Achha, chalo. Par pehle main chai bana leti hoon. Chhat par chai ke baghair maza nahi aayega.”

“Main madad karta hoon,” Babar ne phir kaha, aur is dafa Zainab ne zor se khaansi ki, jise dekh kar Naveed hans para.

“Api, tum dono jao chai banao,” Zainab ne kaha, “hum chhat par bistar lagate hain.”

Kitchen mein, jab Nasim ne kettle mein paani daala to Babar deewar se tek lagaye use dekh raha tha. Mom batti ki roshni mein us ka saaya deewar par bara lag raha tha. “Tum thak gayi ho,” us ne dheere se kaha. “Din bhar office, phir ghar. Kabhi apne baare mein bhi socha karo.”

“Main theek hoon,” Nasim ne kaha, us ki taraf dekhe baghair.

“Nasim,” Babar ne us ka naam liya, aur us ke naam lene ke andaaaz mein itna pyaar tha ke Nasim ke haath ek pal ke liye ruk gaye. “Tum kab tak aise raho gi?”

“Kaisa?”

“Aise — sab ka khayaal rakhti hui, aur apna khayaal kisi ko rakhne na deti hui.”

Nasim ne kettle chulhe par rakha. Gas to thi, shukar tha. “Babar, ye baat hum pehle bhi kar chuke hain.”

“To phir karte hain. Jab tak tum sunogi nahi, main kehta rahunga.”

“Babar,” Nasim ne us ki taraf dekha, aur us ki aankhon mein thakan ke saath saath kuch aur bhi tha — darr, shayad, ya sharam. “Tum jaante ho ye mumkin nahi hai.”

“Kyun mumkin nahi hai?” Babar ne poocha, aur woh ek qadam aage barha. “Kyunke log kya kahenge? Kyunke ammi kya sochengi? Ya kyunke tum khud darti ho?”

Nasim ne jawaab nahi diya. Us ne chai ki patti nikaali, cheeni daali, aur chulhe ki aanch tez ki. Us ki khaamoshi mein woh saari baatein thin jo woh keh nahi sakti thi. Do saal pehle ki baat thi — Imran ki baat. Cousin Imran, jis se us ka rishta almost tay ho gaya tha. Ammi ne kitne armaan sajaye thay, rishtedaron mein khushiyaan manayi gayi thin, aur phir, ain shaadi se pehle, Imran ke ghar walon ne jahez ki aisi shartein rakhin ke Nasim ka dil toot gaya. Us ne khud inkaar kar diya tha — “Main bheek mein nahi bikti,” us ne kaha tha — par us tootne ki aawaaz aaj bhi us ke seenay mein goonjti thi. Us ke baad se us ne faisla kar liya tha: shaadi nahi, mohabbat nahi, koi rishta nahi. Sirf ghar, sirf zimmedaari, sirf ye chaar deewaarein.

“Tum Imran ko bhool nahi paayi,” Babar ne dheere se kaha, jaise us ke dil ki baat parh li ho. “Is liye tum har us cheez se darti ho jo tumhe khushi de sakti hai.”

“Tum galat samajh rahe ho,” Nasim ne kaha, par us ki aawaaz kaanp rahi thi.

“To sahi samjhao,” Babar ne kaha. “Mujhe samjhao, Nasim. Main sunne ke liye tayyar hoon. Barson se tayyar hoon.”

Chai ubalne lagi, aur us ki khushbu kitchen mein phel gayi. Nasim ne cup nikaale, aur us ne jaan boojh kar Babar se door khare ho kar chai daali. “Tum nahi samjhoge,” us ne kaha. “Tum larke ho. Tumhe nahi pata log larkiyon ke baare mein kya kehte hain. Aur phir —” woh ruki, “— phir ye ghar hai. Ammi, abba. Zainab, Naveed. Main in sab ko kya munh dikhaaungi?”

“Yehi to masla hai,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein dard tha. “Tum sab ka sochti ho, siwaye apne. Aur main — main sirf tumhara sochta hoon.”

Nasim ne chai ka tray uthaya. “Chalo, chhat par chalte hain. Wo intezaar kar rahe hon ge.”

Babar ne us ka raasta nahi roka. Woh jaanta tha — aaj nahi, to kabhi nahi, par ek din Nasim sunegi. Woh barson se intezaar kar raha tha, aur woh aur intezaar kar sakta tha. Mohabbat mein us ne sabar seekh liya tha.

Chhat par, Naveed aur Zainab ne kamaal kar diya tha. Unhon ne purani charpaiyan bichha di thin, un par bistar daal diye thay, aur beech mein ek chhoti si mez par mom battiyan jala di thin. Chand ab bilkul un ke sar par tha, itna bara aur itna roshan ke mom battiyon ki roshni us ke saamne pheeki lag rahi thi. Hawa chal rahi thi — thandi, namkeen hawa, jo samundar ki taraf se aa rahi thi aur neem ke patton ko hila rahi thi.

“Wah!” Nasim ne kaha, aur pehli dafa us raat us ke chehre par asli muskurahat aayi. “Tum dono ne to jannat bana di.”

“Hum to hain hi kamaal ke,” Naveed ne seena chaura kiya, aur Zainab ne use dhakka diya ke woh charpai se girte girte bacha.

Chai pi gayi. Chaaron charpaiyon par phel gaye — Babar aur Nasim ek charpai par, Zainab aur Naveed doosri par. Aasmaan saaf tha, taare chamak rahe thay, aur chand itna qareeb lag raha tha ke lagta tha haath barhao to chhu loge.

“Yaad hai,” Zainab ne kaha, chand ko dekhte hue, “bachpan mein hum yahin chhat par sote thay, garmi ki chhuttiyon mein. Ammi paani chhirakti thin, aur abba kahaaniyan sunate thay.”

“Aur Babar bhai dar kar ammi se lipat jaate thay jab bhoot ki kahani aati thi,” Naveed ne kaha, aur sab hans pare.

“Jhoot!” Babar ne ehtijaaj kiya, par woh bhi hans raha tha. “Main kabhi nahi dara.”

“Achha? To woh kaun tha jo ek dafa chhat par akela sone se inkaar kar diya tha kyunke use ‘parchhaaiyan’ nazar aa rahi thin?” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ki aankhon mein sharaarat chamki. Ye woh Nasim thi jo kabhi kabhi, bahut kam, nazar aati thi — woh larki jo kabhi hansti thi, khelti thi, jeeti thi.

Babar ne us ki taraf dekha, aur us ki muskurahat dheemi ho gayi. “Tumhe sab yaad hai,” us ne dheere se kaha.

“Mujhe sab yaad hai,” Nasim ne kaha, aur phir us ne nazrein chand ki taraf kar lin.

Thodi der khaamoshi rahi. Sirf hawa ki aawaaz thi, aur door kahin se aati hui kisi generator ki ghurr ghurr. Zainab ne apna sar Naveed ke kandhe par rakh diya — bachpan ki aadat, jo ab bhi baaqi thi — aur Naveed ne bhi kuch nahi kaha. Woh chaaron aise thay — ek doosre ke itne qareeb ke unhe alfaz ki zaroorat nahi parti thi.

“Babar bhai,” Zainab ne achanak kaha, “tum ab bhi raat ko der tak laptop par kaam karte ho?”

Babar ne hairat se us ki taraf dekha. “Tumhe kaise pata?”

“Kal raat main paani peene uthi thi to tumhare kamre se roshni aa rahi thi. Do baj rahe thay.” Zainab ne aankhein machkaayein. “Emailon ke shehzade.”

Nasim ne chai ka ghoont liya, par us ke kaan khare ho gaye thay.

“Kya karoon,” Babar ne kandhe uchkaaye, “kaam hi aisa hai. Clients America mein hain, un ke time par jawaab dena parta hai.”

“Ya phir tum drafts mein shayari likhte ho,” Zainab ne chherra.

Babar ka chehra ek pal ke liye badla — sirf ek pal ke liye, par Nasim ne dekh liya. “Drafts mein kya rakha hai,” us ne hanste hue kaha, par us ki hansi mein kuch atka hua tha. “Kaam ki cheezein hoti hain.”

“Achha?” Zainab ne kaha. “To ek dafa main ne jo dekha tha —”

“Zainab,” Babar ne us ki baat kaati, aur us ki aawaaz mein ek ajeeb si sakhti thi. “Chhoro na. Chai piyo.”

Zainab ne munh bana liya, par woh chup ho gayi. Naveed ne usay dekha, phir Babar ko, phir Nasim ko. Usay kuch samajh nahi aaya, par usay mehsoos hua ke hawa mein koi raaz tair raha hai.

Nasim ne Babar ki taraf dekha. Us ki aankhon mein sawal tha. Babar ne nazrein chura lin aur chand ko dekhne laga. Us ke dil ki dharkan tez ho gayi thi. Zainab ne kya dekha tha? Kab dekha tha? Kya us ne woh draft dekha tha — woh email, jo us ne teen saal pehle likha tha aur kabhi bheja nahi tha?

Woh email. Babar ne us raat ke baare mein socha — baarish ki raat thi, bijli gayi hui thi, bilkul aaj jaisi. Nasim Imran ke rishta tootne ke baad se chup chup rehti thi, aur us raat Babar ne use chhat par rote hue dekha tha. Woh us ke paas nahi gaya tha — woh jaanta tha Nasim akele rona chahti thi — par neeche aa kar us ne apna laptop khola tha, aur dil ka saara dard ek email mein utaar diya tha. “Nasim — dil ki baat” — yehi subject tha. Us ne likha tha, ghanton tak likha tha, aur phir, subah hone se pehle, us ne use drafts mein chhor diya tha. “Abhi waqt nahi aaya,” us ne khud se kaha tha. “Jab waqt aayega, main khud keh dunga.”

Aur ab teen saal guzar gaye thay, aur woh email ab bhi wahin tha — drafts mein, unsent, us ke dil ka sab se bara raaz.

“Chand kitna khoobsurat lag raha hai,” Nasim ne dheere se kaha, aur Babar ne us ki taraf dekha. Chand ki roshni mein us ka chehra chandi jaisa chamak raha tha. Babar ka dil chaha ke woh us ka haath thaam le, par us ne apne haath charpai par hi rakhe. Sabar. Us ne sabar seekh liya tha.

“Aaj ki raat,” Naveed ne kaha, aasmaan ko dekhte hue, “lagta hai koi khaas raat hai.”

“Kyun?” Zainab ne poocha.

“Pata nahi,” Naveed ne kaha. “Bas aisa lag raha hai. Jaise aaj kuch hone wala hai.”

Hawa tez chali, aur mom battiyon ki lau hilne lagi. Chand badalon ke ek patle se tukre ke peeche chhupa, phir nikal aaya. Aur us corner wale ghar ki chhat par, chaar behan bhai, chandni mein nahaaye hue, apni apni sochon mein gum thay — aur un mein se koi nahi jaanta tha ke ye raat un ki zindagi ka sab se bara raaz kholne wali thi.

Raat ke das baj gaye thay, par bijli aane ka koi nishaan nahi tha. Gali mein ab sannata tha — generatoron ki ghurr ghurr bhi dheemi ho gayi thi, kyunke log so gaye thay ya unhon ne apne generator band kar diye thay. Sirf un ke ghar ki chhat par zindagi jaag rahi thi.

Zainab uth kar chhat ke kinare tak gayi aur neeche gali mein jhaanka. “Dekho,” us ne kaha, “poori gali andhere mein doobi hui hai. Sirf hamare ghar ki chhat par roshni hai — mom battiyon ki aur chand ki.”

“Hum is gali ke chaand hain,” Naveed ne kaha, aur woh bhi us ke paas aa khara hua. Dono ne neeche dekha — andheri gali, band dukanein, soye hue ghar. Aur upar, un ke sar par, taaron bhara aasmaan.

Naveed aur Zainab mein hamesha se ek khaas rishta tha. Umar mein sirf do saal ka farq tha, aur bachpan se lekar aaj tak woh ek doosre ke sab se achhe dost thay. Jab Zainab ko university mein admission nahi mila tha pehli koshish mein, to Naveed hi tha jo raat bhar us ke saath beth kar usay hosla deta raha tha. Aur jab Naveed ka pehla business idea nakaam hua tha, to Zainab hi thi jis ne use kaha tha, “koi baat nahi, phir koshish karo.”

“Tumhe yaad hai,” Zainab ne dheere se kaha, “jab hum chhote thay to tum kehte thay ke bare ho kar tum chand par ghar banao ge?”

Naveed hans para. “Haan, yaad hai. Aur tum kehti thin ke tum us ghar mein rehne nahi aao gi kyunke wahan bijli nahi hogi.”

“Dekho,” Zainab ne chand ki taraf ishaara kiya, “aaj hum chand ke ghar mein hain. Aur bijli bhi nahi hai.”

Dono hans pare, aur un ki hansi raat ki khaamoshi mein door tak gayi. Babar aur Nasim ne unhe dekha, aur dono ke chehron par muskurahat aa gayi. Yehi to un ke ghar ki khubsurti thi — ye chhoti chhoti khushiyaan, ye beparwah hansi, ye ek doosre ka saath.

“Zainab,” Nasim ne kaha, “aao, mere paas betho.”

Zainab wapas aayi aur Nasim ke paas charpai par beth gayi. Nasim ne us ke baalon mein ungliyaan phereen — wohi purani aadat, jab Zainab chhoti thi to Nasim use isi tarah sulati thi. “Tum thak gayi ho,” Nasim ne kaha.

“Nahi, api,” Zainab ne kaha, “aaj to neend hi nahi aa rahi. Aisa lag raha hai jaise ye raat khatam hi na ho.”

“Khatam to hogi,” Naveed ne kaha, “par shayad achhi tarah khatam ho.”

Babar ne Nasim ki taraf dekha. Chand ki roshni mein us ki aankhein chamak rahi thin. “Nasim,” us ne dheere se kaha, taake sirf woh sun sake, “kya tum khush ho?”

Nasim ne us ki taraf dekha. Ye sawal us ne pehle kabhi nahi poocha tha — itna seedha, itna gehra. “Main —” woh ruki. “Mere paas sab kuch hai, Babar. Ye ghar, tum sab. Aur kya chahiye?”

“Ye jawaab nahi hai,” Babar ne kaha. “Main ne poocha, kya tum khush ho?”

Nasim ne chand ki taraf dekha. “Khushi —” us ne dheere se kaha, “khushi ek ajeeb cheez hai, Babar. Jab Imran wala waqiya hua tha, to main ne socha tha ke meri zindagi khatam ho gayi. Logon ne kya kya nahi kaha — ‘larki mein hi koi kami hogi’, ‘itni parhi likhi, phir bhi rishta na rakh saki.’ Ammi roti thin, abba khaamosh ho gaye thay. Aur main — main ne faisla kar liya ke ab main kisi ko mauqa nahi dungi mujhe dukh dene ka.”

“Main Imran nahi hoon,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein dard tha.

“Main jaanti hoon,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ki aankhon mein aansu chamke. “Isi liye to darti hoon. Kyunke tum Imran nahi ho. Kyunke tum —” woh ruk gayi.

“Kyunke main kya, Nasim?”

“Kyunke tum woh ho jis se main —” Nasim ne apni baat adhoori chhor di, aur woh uth khari hui. “Main paani laati hoon.”

Woh chhat ke doosri taraf chali gayi, jahan paani ka cooler rakha tha. Babar use jaata hua dekhta raha. Us ka dil zor zor se dharak raha tha. Us ne aaj pehli dafa Nasim ke munh se ye alfaaz sune thay — adhoore, par phir bhi. “Kyunke tum woh ho jis se main —” jis se main kya? Jis se main pyaar karti hoon? Babar ki aankhon mein ummeed ki ek kiran jaagi.

Naveed ne Babar ke kandhe par haath rakha. “Bhai,” us ne dheere se kaha, “tum theek ho?”

Babar ne us ki taraf dekha aur muskuraya — woh muskurahat jo dard chhupati hai. “Haan, theek hoon.”

“Tum api se bahut pyaar karte ho, hai na?” Naveed ne poocha, aur us ki aawaaz mein koi tanz nahi tha, sirf narmi thi.

Babar ne kuch der khaamosh raha, phir us ne sar hilaya. “Barson se.”

“To kehte kyun nahi?”

“Kehne ka waqt nahi aaya tha,” Babar ne kaha. “Woh tooti hui thi, Naveed. Imran ne use tor diya tha. Main nahi chahta tha ke woh soche ke main us ki kamzori ka faida utha raha hoon. Main chahta tha ke woh pehle khud ko sambhale, phir faisla kare.”

“Aur ab?” Naveed ne poocha.

“Ab —” Babar ne Nasim ki taraf dekha, jo cooler ke paas khari chand ko dekh rahi thi. “Ab lagta hai ke shayad waqt aa gaya hai. Ya shayad kabhi nahi aayega.”

Naveed ne us ka haath dabaya. “Bhai, tum ne hamesha sab ka khayaal rakha hai. Ab apna khayaal rakhne ka waqt hai.”

Udhar, Zainab Nasim ke paas aa gayi thi. “Api,” us ne dheere se kaha, “tum ro rahi ho?”

Nasim ne jaldi se aansu ponchhe. “Nahi, bas hawa mein kuch chala gaya tha.”

“Api,” Zainab ne us ka haath pakra, “main chhoti hoon, par bewakoof nahi. Main dekhti hoon — Babar bhai tumhe kaise dekhte hain. Aur main dekhti hoon ke tum unhe kaise dekhti ho.”

Nasim ne us ki taraf dekha, hairat se. “Zainab —”

“Main kuch nahi kahungi,” Zainab ne kaha, “bas itna kahungi ke darr ke peeche chhupna aasaan hai, api. Par zindagi darr ke peeche nahi, darr ke saamne jee jaati hai.”

Nasim ne use gale laga liya, aur dono kuch der aise hi khari rahin. Chand ki roshni un par par rahi thi, aur hawa un ke dupatton ko ura rahi thi. Ye woh lamha tha jab Nasim ne pehli dafa socha — shayad, bas shayad, usay darr ko chhor dena chahiye.

Woh wapas charpaiyon par aayein to Naveed ne tajweez di, “Kyun na hum antakshari khelein? Bijli nahi hai, neend nahi aa rahi — kam az kam waqt to guzre.”

“Antakshari?” Zainab ki aankhein chamak uthin. “Haan! Main shuru karti hoon.”

Aur phir shuru hua woh khel jo unhon ne bachpan mein sau dafa khela tha. Zainab ne gaya, phir Naveed ne, phir Nasim ne — us ki aawaaz mein woh dard tha jo sirf usay mehsoos ho sakta tha — aur phir Babar ne. Babar ne jo geet gaya, woh Nasim ko dekh kar gaya tha, aur us ke alfaaz mein itna pyaar tha ke Nasim ki aankhein bhar aayein.

Raat gehri hoti gayi. Mom battiyan ek ek kar ke bujhne lagi thin. Naveed ne nayi battiyan jalayein, par ab woh bhi kam par rahi thin. Chand ab aasmaan ke bilkul beech mein tha, aur us ki roshni itni tez thi ke mom battiyon ki zaroorat hi nahi rahi thi.

“Bas,” Zainab ne kaha, “ab battiyan bujha do. Chandni kaafi hai.”

Mom battiyan bujha di gayin, aur chhat chandni mein nahaa gayi. Sab kuch chandi jaisa lag raha tha — charpaiyan, bartan, un ke chehre. Ye woh manzar tha jo Babar ne barson se apne dil mein sambhal rakha tha — us ki apni duniya, us ke apne log, chandni mein.

“Kitna sukoon hai,” Nasim ne dheere se kaha, aur us ne apni aankhein band kar lin. Pehli dafa barson mein, us ne apne dil ko dharakne diya — baghair darr ke, baghair rok ke.

Babar ne use dekha, aur us ka dil bhar aaya. Woh jaanta tha ke ye raat aam raat nahi thi. Kuch hone wala tha. Usay mehsoos ho raha tha — jaise hawa mein bijli ho, jaise aasmaan saans rok kar dekh raha ho.

Aur phir, Zainab ne kaha, “Babar bhai, tumhara laptop neeche hai na? Us mein gaane honge. Chalo, koi halki si music lagate hain.”

Babar ne pehle inkaar karna chaha — us ka dil zor se dharakne laga tha — par phir us ne socha, kya harz hai. Laptop to band hoga, aur drafts to koi nahi dekhega. “Haan, le aao,” us ne kaha. “Mere kamre mein, mez par hai.”

Zainab neeche gayi, aur thodi der baad laptop lekar wapas aayi. Us ne use khola, aur screen ki roshni us ke chehre par pari. “Password kya hai?” us ne poocha.

“Nasim ki birthday,” Babar ne beikhtiyaar keh diya, aur phir usay ehsas hua ke us ne kya kaha hai. Nasim ne us ki taraf dekha, us ki aankhon mein hairat thi. Naveed ne khaansi ki.

Zainab ne password daala — screen khul gayi. Us ne music player kholne ki koshish ki, par us ki ungli ghalat jagah par gayi, aur email ka page khul gaya. Aur wahan, sab se upar, drafts folder mein, ek email tha — teen saal purana, unsent.

“Nasim — dil ki baat.”

Zainab ne beikhtiyaar parh liya, aur us ke chehre ka rang ur gaya. “Babar bhai — ye —”

“Zainab, band karo use!” Babar ne kaha, aur woh uth khara hua. Par der ho chuki thi. Nasim ne screen dekh li thi. Us ne woh alfaaz dekh liye thay — apna naam, aur us ke saath “dil ki baat.”

“Ye kya hai, Babar?” Nasim ne poocha, aur us ki aawaaz kaanp rahi thi.

Babar ne laptop band karne ki koshish ki, par Nasim ne us ka haath rok liya. “Nahi,” us ne kaha, aur us ki aankhon mein aansu thay. “Main parhna chahti hoon. Mujhe parhne do.”

“Nasim, please —” Babar ne kaha.

“Mujhe parhne do, Babar.”

Chandni mein, us chhat par, chaaron ki saansein ruk gayin. Zainab ne laptop Nasim ki taraf barha diya, aur Nasim ne kaanpte haathon se use khola. Draft khula, aur us ki nazrein pehli line par jam gayin.

Aur us raat, chand ki roshni mein, Nasim ne woh email parha jo teen saal pehle likha gaya tha, aur kabhi bheja nahi gaya tha.

Email ki pehli line thi: “Meri pyaari Nasim, ye khat main tumhe kabhi nahi bhejunga, par likhna zaroori tha.”

Nasim ki saansein tez ho gayin. Us ne aage parha, aur har lafz us ke dil par chot ki tarah lag raha tha:

“Main nahi jaanta ke ye likhne ka sahi waqt kab aayega, is liye main aaj likh raha hoon — us raat, jab tum chhat par akeli ro rahi thin, aur main neeche se tumhe dekh raha tha. Main tumhare paas nahi aaya, kyunke main jaanta tha ke tum akele rona chahti thi. Par mera dil tumhare saath ro raha tha, Nasim. Har aansu jo tumhari aankh se gira, woh mere dil par gira.”

“Main tumse pyaar karta hoon. Ye koi nayi baat nahi hai. Main tumse us waqt se pyaar karta hoon jab hum bachche thay, jab tum mere liye apne hisse ki mithaas bachati thin, jab tum bukhaar mein meri patti karti thin, jab tum ne mujhe pehli dafa cycle chalana sikhaya tha aur main gira tha to tum ro pari thin — mere liye, apne liye nahi. Main ne tab jaana tha ke tum woh ho jis ke baghair main adhoora hoon.”

“Par main ne kabhi kaha nahi. Kyunke tum meri behan ho, kyunke duniya kya kahegi, kyunke ammi abba kya sochenge. Aur phir Imran aaya, aur main ne dekha ke tum khush ho — ya khush hone ka dikhawa kar rahi ho — aur main peeche hat gaya. Main ne socha, tumhari khushi meri khushi se bari hai. Par phir us ne tumhe tor diya, Nasim. Us ne tumhe tukre tukre kar diya, aur main kuch nahi kar saka. Main wahan khara dekhta raha, aur mera dil chilla raha tha ke main tumhe bata doon ke tum akeli nahi ho, ke koi hai jo tumhe tootne nahi dega.”

“Aaj main ye likh raha hoon kyunke main aur chup nahi reh sakta. Par main ye bhejunga nahi. Kyunke tum abhi zakhmi ho, aur main nahi chahta ke tum isay meri kamzori samjho, ya apni kamzori. Main chahta hoon ke jab tum ye parho — agar kabhi parho — to tum poori ho, mazboot ho, aur apne faisle khud kar sako. Main tumse kuch nahi maangta, Nasim. Na jawaab, na wada, na kuch. Bas itna jaan lo ke is duniya mein ek shakhs hai jo tumhe har haal mein chahega — jab tum hansti ho, jab tum roti ho, jab tum sab ka khayaal rakhti ho aur apna bhool jaati ho.”

“Main intezaar karunga. Chahe saal guzar jaayein, chahe zamaane badal jaayein. Aur agar tum kabhi kisi aur se khush ho jao, to main tumhari khushi mein khush ho jaunga — ye jhoot hoga, par main koshish karunga. Kyunke tumhari khushi hi meri mohabbat hai.”

“Tumhara, hamesha tumhara — Babar.”

Nasim ne email khatam kiya, aur us ki aankhon se aansu beh rahe thay. Chandni mein us ke aansu chandi ke qatron ki tarah chamak rahe thay. Us ne laptop band kiya aur use ek taraf rakh diya. Phir us ne Babar ki taraf dekha — aur pehli dafa, barson mein pehli dafa, us ne apni aankhon se woh deewar hata di jo us ne khari ki thi.

“Tum ne ye —” us ki aawaaz toot gayi. “Tum ne ye teen saal pehle likha tha?”

Babar ne sar jhukaya. “Haan.”

“Aur kabhi bheja nahi?”

“Kabhi nahi.”

“Kyun?” Nasim ne poocha, aur woh uth khari hui. “Kyun nahi bheja, Babar? Kyun mujhe andhere mein rakha?”

“Kyunki main darta tha,” Babar ne kaha, aur woh bhi uth khara hua. Us ki aankhon mein aansu thay — pehli dafa, Nasim ne use rote hue dekha tha. “Main darta tha ke tum inkaar kar dogi. Main darta tha ke tum mujhse door ho jaogi. Main darta tha ke main tumhe kho dunga, Nasim. Tumhe khone ka darr, tumhe paane ki khwahish se bara tha.”

“To tum ne faisla kar liya ke tum chup raho ge? Ke tum intezaar karo ge? Aur main — main kya karti? Main to samajhti rahi ke —” Nasim ruk gayi.

“Ke kya?” Babar ne poocha.

“Ke shayad main galat samajh rahi hoon. Ke shayad ye sirf bhai ka pyaar hai. Ke shayad main pagal hoon jo —” Nasim ne apne aansu ponchhe. “Haan, Babar. Main bhi — main bhi tumse —”

Woh keh nahi paayi. Alfaaz us ke gale mein atak gaye. Par Babar ne samajh liya. Us ne ek qadam aage barhaya, aur phir ruk gaya. “Nasim,” us ne dheere se kaha, “main tum par koi dabaav nahi daal raha. Ye email main ne tum par bojh daalne ke liye nahi likha tha. Main sirf chahta tha ke tum jaano. Ab tum jaanti ho. Ab faisla tumhara hai — poori tarah tumhara. Agar tum kaho ke bhool jao, to main bhool jaunga. Ya bhoolne ki koshish karunga.”

Zainab aur Naveed khaamoshi se uth khare hue thay. Zainab ne Naveed ka haath pakra, aur dono chhat ke doosri taraf chale gaye — unhe door se dikhai de rahe thay, par unhon ne un dono ko akela chhor diya tha. Ye un ka lamha tha.

Nasim aur Babar aamne saamne khare thay, chandni mein, hawa mein, us chhat par jo ab un ka “chand ka ghar” ban chuki thi. Nasim ne Babar ki aankhon mein dekha — un aankhon mein jo barson se usay chup chap chah rahi thin — aur us ne apne dil ki aawaaz suni, jo barson se dabi hui thi.

“Babar,” us ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz ab mazboot thi, “tum ne teen saal intezaar kiya. Teen saal tak tum ne apne dil ki baat apne dil mein rakhi, mere liye. Tum ne mujhe waqt diya, tum ne mujhe izzat di, tum ne mujh par kabhi dabaav nahi daala.” Us ke aansu ab ruk gaye thay. “Imran ne mujhse sab kuch cheenna chaha tha. Tum ne mujhe sab kuch dena chaha — baghair maange.”

“Nasim —”

“Nahi, suno,” Nasim ne kaha. “Ab meri baari hai kehne ki. Main darti thi, Babar. Main darti thi logon se, rishtedaron se, ammi abba se. Main darti thi ke agar main ne apne dil ki suni to main phir toot jaungi. Par aaj — aaj jab main ne tumhara khat parha, to mujhe ehsas hua ke main pehle se hi tooti hui thi. Aur tum — tum woh ho jo mujhe jor sakte ho.”

Us ne ek gehri saans li, aur phir, chand ko gawah bana kar, us ne woh alfaaz kahe jo us ne barson se apne dil mein chhupaye thay: “Main tumse pyaar karti hoon, Babar. Haan, main — tumhari behan — tumse, apne bhai se, pyaar karti hoon. Aur main is se nahi darti. Ab nahi darti.”

Babar ki aankhon se aansu beh nikle. Us ne apne haath barhaye, par phir ruk gaya — woh Nasim ka faisla chahta tha, poora faisla. “Tum yaqeen se keh rahi ho?” us ne poocha. “Koi dabaav nahi, koi jaldi nahi. Main tumhara intezaar kar sakta hoon — aur teen saal, aur tees saal.”

Nasim ne us ke barhe hue haathon ko dekha, phir us ki aankhon mein dekha, aur phir us ne apne haath us ke haathon mein de diye. “Mujhe aur intezaar nahi karna,” us ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein woh khushi thi jo barson se khoyi hui thi. “Main ne barson intezaar kiya hai, Babar. Apne darr ke peeche chhup kar. Ab nahi.”

Un ke haath mile, aur us chhoone mein bijli thi — woh bijli jo K-Electric nahi de sakta tha. Chandni mein, hawa mein, neem ke patton ki sarsarahat mein, do dil jo barson se ek doosre ke liye dharak rahe thay, aakhir ek ho gaye.

Door, chhat ke doosre kinare par, Zainab ne Naveed ke kandhe par sar rakha aur dheere se kaha, “Dekho, chand muskur raha hai.”

Naveed ne dekha — aur waqayi, chand aaj kuch zyada hi roshan lag raha tha. “Ya shayad,” us ne kaha, “aaj chand ko apna ghar mil gaya hai.”

Hawa chali, aur mom battiyon ki bujhi hui lau mein se dhuaan utha, chandni mein ghul gaya. Raat abhi baaqi thi — aur ye raat abhi shuru hui thi.

Us ke baad jo hua, woh dheere dheere hua — jaise chandni dheere dheere phelti hai, jaise hawa dheere dheere chalti hai. Babar ne Nasim ka haath thaama, aur dono charpai par beth gaye. Un ke darmiyaan ab koi deewar nahi thi, koi darr nahi tha — sirf sach tha, aur mohabbat thi, aur woh khaamoshi thi jo sirf do dilon ke beech hoti hai jab woh ek doosre ko pehchaan lete hain.

“Nasim,” Babar ne dheere se kaha, us ke chehre ko apne haathon mein lete hue, “kya main —”

“Haan,” Nasim ne kaha, us ki baat poori hone se pehle. Us ki aankhon mein koi hichkichahat nahi thi, koi darr nahi tha. “Haan, Babar. Main chahti hoon. Poori tarah chahti hoon.”

Babar ne us ke maathe par apne honth rakhe — ek naram sa bosa, izzat bhara, mohabbat bhara. Nasim ne apni aankhein band kar lin, aur us ne mehsoos kiya ke us ke jism mein ek lehar daur gayi — garmi ki lehar, khwahish ki lehar, woh lehar jo barson se us ke andar dabi hui thi aur aaj azaad ho gayi thi.

Us ne apne haath Babar ke chehre par rakhe, aur usay apne qareeb kheencha. Un ke honth mile, aur us bose mein teen saal ka intezaar tha, barson ki khaamosh mohabbat thi, aur woh saari baatein thin jo kabhi kahi nahi gayin thin. Nasim ne mehsoos kiya ke us ka dil itni zor se dharak raha tha ke lagta tha seene se bahir aa jayega. Babar ke honth naram thay, aur us ki saansein garam thin, aur us ki khushbu — wohi purani khushbu, jo Nasim ne bachpan se jaani thi — aaj kuch aur hi lag rahi thi.

“Ruko,” Nasim ne dheere se kaha, aur Babar foran ruk gaya. Us ne Nasim ki aankhon mein dekha — sawal tha, izzat thi, sabar tha. “Main theek hoon,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ne muskurate hue us ka haath apne dil par rakha. “Dekho, kitni zor se dharak raha hai. Ye tumhare liye dharak raha hai, Babar. Sirf tumhare liye.”

Babar ne us ka haath chuma, phir us ki kalai ko, phir us ke baazu ko. Har bose mein ehtiyaat thi, har chhoone mein izzat thi. Woh jaldi nahi kar raha tha — woh is lamhe ko jeena chahta tha, isay mehsoos karna chahta tha, isay apne dil mein hamesha ke liye qaid karna chahta tha. Nasim ne apna dupatta dheere se apne kandhon se sarka diya, aur chandni us ki gardan par pari, us ke chehre par, us ki aankhon mein.

“Tum kitni khoobsurat ho,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz bhar aayi thi. “Chandni mein tum — tum chand se bhi zyada roshan lag rahi ho.”

Nasim ne sharma kar nazrein jhuka lin, par phir us ne us ki taraf dekha. “Aaj mujhe sharmane mat do,” us ne kaha. “Aaj main woh sab kehna chahti hoon jo main ne kabhi nahi kaha. Aaj main woh sab mehsoos karna chahti hoon jo main ne kabhi mehsoos nahi kiya.”

Us ne Babar ki qameez ke button khole — ek ek kar ke, dheere dheere — aur us ki ungliyaan kaanp rahi thin, par us ki aankhon mein azm tha. Babar ne usay roka nahi. Us ne sirf use dekha, aur us ki aankhon mein itna pyaar tha ke Nasim ki saansein ruk gayin.

Jab un ke jism mile, to Nasim ne mehsoos kiya ke duniya tham gayi hai. Chandni un par baras rahi thi, hawa un ke gird ghoom rahi thi, aur neem ke patte un par saya kiye hue thay. Babar ka wazan us par tha — naram, ehtiyaat bhara — aur us ki saansein us ki gardan par garam lag rahi thin. Nasim ne apni aankhein band kar lin aur khud ko is lamhe ke hawale kar diya.

“Main tumse pyaar karta hoon,” Babar ne us ke kaan mein sar goshi ki, aur us ki aawaaz mein woh gehraai thi jo sirf sachchi mohabbat mein hoti hai. “Main hamesha se tumse pyaar karta tha, aur hamesha karunga.”

“Main bhi,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ne use aur zor se apne se lagaya. “Main bhi tumse pyaar karti hoon, Babar. Aur main kahin nahi jaungi. Kabhi nahi.”

Un ki mohabbat dheere dheere parwaan charhi — jaise subah ka ujala dheere dheere phelta hai. Har chhoone mein pyaar tha, har saans mein khwahish thi, aur har lamhe mein woh gehra rishta tha jo sirf do dilon ke beech hota hai jab woh ek doosre ko poori tarah qubool kar lete hain. Nasim ne apne aap ko kabhi itna zinda mehsoos nahi kiya tha. Us ka jism, jo barson se sirf zimmedaariyon ka bojh uthata aaya tha, aaj pehli dafa khushi mehsoos kar raha tha. Us ki har rag mein khun daur raha tha, us ki har saans mein zindagi thi.

Babar ne us ke baalon ko sehlaya, us ke chehre ko chuma, us ki aankhon mein dekha. “Tum theek ho?” us ne poocha, har thodi der baad, kyunke woh chahta tha ke Nasim ko koi takleef na ho, koi darr na ho.

“Main kabhi itni theek nahi thi,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ne hans kar usay apne aur qareeb kheencha. “Tum fikar mat karo, Babar. Aaj main tumhari hoon — poori tarah, apni marzi se.”

Aur woh lamha aaya jab dono ek ho gaye — poori tarah, mukammal tor par. Nasim ne chand ko dekha, jo un par apni roshni baras raha tha, aur us ne socha ke shayad yehi jannat hai. Shayaad jannat koi door ki jagah nahi — shayad jannat yehi hai, is chhat par, is chandni mein, us shakhs ki baahon mein jo tumhe duniya mein sab se zyada chahta hai.

Jab sab kuch tham gaya, to dono ek doosre ki baahon mein lete thay, saans phool rahi thi, dil dharak rahe thay. Babar ne apni chadar un dono par daal di, aur Nasim ne apna sar us ke seenay par rakh diya. Us ne us ke dil ki dharkan suni — tez, mazboot, us ke naam par dharakti hui.

“Ye raat,” Nasim ne dheere se kaha, “main kabhi nahi bhoolungi.”

“Na main,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ne us ke maathe par bosa diya. “Ye hamari raat hai, Nasim. Chand ki raat.”

Door, chhat ke doosre kinare par, Zainab aur Naveed khaamoshi se bethe thay. Unhon ne kuch nahi dekha tha — unhon ne apni nazrein hata li thin, izzat ke saath — par unhon ne mehsoos kiya tha. Hawa mein mohabbat thi, chandni mein khushi thi, aur un ke dilon mein sukoon tha. Zainab ne Naveed ka haath pakra, aur dono ne ek doosre ko dekha — aur un ki aankhon mein wohi khushi thi jo un ke bhai behan ke dilon mein thi.

“Api khush hain,” Zainab ne dheere se kaha.

“Haan,” Naveed ne kaha. “Aaj se sab badal jayega.”

“Acha badlega,” Zainab ne kaha, aur us ne chand ki taraf dekha. “Dekho, chand kitna roshan hai. Jaise woh bhi khush hai.”

Hawa chali, aur neem ke patte sarsaraaye. Chandni mein, us chhat par, chaar dil — do jo ek ho chuke thay, aur do jo un ki khushi mein khush thay — ek nayi subah ka intezaar kar rahe thay.

Kuch der tak dono khaamosh rahe — woh khaamoshi jo alfaaz se zyada kehti hai. Nasim ka sar Babar ke seenay par tha, aur woh us ke dil ki dharkan sun rahi thi. Har dharkan ke saath usay lag raha tha ke woh ghar aa gayi hai — us ghar mein jo us ne barson se apne dil mein banaya tha, par jis mein qadam rakhne ki himmat kabhi nahi ki thi.

“Babar,” us ne dheere se kaha, “tumhe pata hai, main ne kabhi socha nahi tha ke ye din aayega.”

“Main ne har din socha tha,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ne us ke baalon mein ungliyaan phereen. “Har subah jab main uthta tha, to sochta tha — shayad aaj woh din hai jab Nasim meri taraf dekhegi. Aur har raat jab main sota tha, to sochta tha — shayad kal.”

Nasim ne us ki taraf dekha. “Itna sabar kahan se laaye?”

“Tumse,” Babar ne kaha, aur woh muskuraya. “Tum ne mujhe sikhaya — baghair kahe. Tum jab sab ka khayaal rakhti thin, jab tum thaki hui bhi muskurati thin, jab tum ne Imran ke baad khud ko sambhala — main ne dekha, aur main ne seekha ke mohabbat mein sabar hi sab kuch hai.”

Nasim ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye — par ye khushi ke aansu thay. “Tum ne mujhe kabhi kamzor nahi samjha,” us ne kaha. “Imran ne mujhe kamzor samjha tha. Us ne socha tha ke main toot jaungi, ke main us ki shartein maan lungi. Par tum — tum ne mujhe mazboot samjha. Tum ne mera intezaar kiya.”

“Kyunke tum mazboot ho,” Babar ne kaha. “Tum is ghar ki buniyaad ho, Nasim. Tumhare baghair hum sab bikhar jaayein.”

Dono ne chand ko dekha, jo ab thoda neeche aa gaya tha, par ab bhi roshan tha. Hawa mein thandak barh gayi thi, aur Babar ne chadar un dono par aur achhi tarah lapet di.

“Ab kya hoga?” Nasim ne poocha, aur us ki aawaaz mein halka sa darr tha — woh purana darr, jo abhi poori tarah gaya nahi tha.

“Ab jo tum chaho gi,” Babar ne kaha. “Main ne tumse wada kiya tha — koi dabaav nahi. Agar tum chaho ke ye hamara raaz rahe, to rahega. Agar tum chaho ke hum ammi abba se baat karein, to hum kareinge. Tumhari marzi, Nasim. Hamesha tumhari marzi.”

Nasim ne kuch der socha. Phir us ne kaha, “Main darti thi logon se. Par aaj mujhe ehsas hua — logon ka kya hai, Babar? Log to Imran ke waqt bhi bole thay, aur aaj bhi bolenge. Par main apni zindagi logon ke liye nahi jee sakti. Main apne liye jeena chahti hoon. Tumhare saath.”

“To hum ammi abba se baat kareinge,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein azm tha. “Main khud baat karunga. Main unhe samjhaaunga. Woh samjhenge, Nasim. Woh humse pyaar karte hain.”

“Aur Zainab? Naveed?” Nasim ne poocha.

Babar ne door dekha, jahan dono ab so gaye thay — Zainab ka sar Naveed ke kandhe par tha, aur dono chandni mein pur sukoon lag rahe thay. “Woh to pehle se hi jaante hain,” Babar ne hanste hue kaha. “Aur woh khush hain. Dekho unhe.”

Nasim ne dekha, aur us ke chehre par muskurahat aa gayi. “Haan,” us ne kaha. “Woh khush hain.”

“To phir,” Babar ne us ka haath thaama, “wada karo — ab tum kabhi apne dil ki baat apne dil mein nahi rakho gi. Jo mehsoos karo gi, kaho gi. Jaise main ne teen saal tak ghalti ki — tum mat karna.”

Nasim ne us ki aankhon mein dekha. “Wada,” us ne kaha. “Aur tum wada karo — ke tum kabhi phir koi khat likh kar drafts mein nahi chhoroge. Jo kehna ho, munh par kaho ge.”

Babar hans para — pehli dafa us raat, khul kar hansa. “Wada,” us ne kaha. “Pakka wada.”

Us ne apna phone nikala, aur Nasim hairat se use dekhne lagi. “Kya kar rahe ho?”

“Email khol raha hoon,” Babar ne kaha. Us ne drafts folder khola, aur wahan tha woh email — “Nasim — dil ki baat” — teen saal purana, unsent. Us ne use khola, aur Nasim ko dikhaya. “Dekho,” us ne kaha. “Ab is ki zaroorat nahi rahi.”

Aur phir, Nasim ki maujoodgi mein, chand ko gawah bana kar, Babar ne woh email delete kar diya. Hamesha ke liye. “Kyunke ab ye sirf alfaaz nahi rahe,” us ne kaha. “Ab ye zindagi ban gaye hain.”

Nasim ki aankhon se aansu beh nikle, aur us ne Babar ko gale laga liya. “Tum pagal ho,” us ne kaha, hanste hue, rote hue.

“Tumhare liye,” Babar ne kaha.

Woh dono phir let gaye, ek doosre ki baahon mein, chandni mein. Nasim ne apni aankhein band kar lin, aur pehli dafa barson mein, us ne poori tarah sukoon mehsoos kiya. Koi darr nahi, koi fikar nahi — sirf Babar ki baahein, sirf us ke dil ki dharkan, sirf chandni.

“Babar,” us ne neend ki aaghosh mein jaate hue kaha, “thank you — mujhe mera ghar wapas dene ke liye.”

“Ye tumhara hi ghar tha,” Babar ne kaha, us ke maathe par bosa dete hue. “Main sirf darwaaza khol raha tha.”

Chand ne un par apni roshni daali, hawa ne unhe sehlaya, aur neem ke patte un par saya kiye rahe. Us raat, us chhat par, do dilon ne apna “chand ka ghar” bana liya tha — woh ghar jo bijli ke mohtaaj nahi tha, jo duniya ke dastoor ka mohtaaj nahi tha, jo sirf mohabbat par qaim tha.

Aur neeche, andhere ghar mein, Babar ka laptop band para tha — us ka sab se bara raaz ab raaz nahi raha tha. Drafts folder khaali tha. Aur Babar ke dil mein, pehli dafa teen saalon mein, koi unsent baat nahi thi.

Teen saal pehle ki woh raat Babar kabhi nahi bhool saka tha — aur aaj, Nasim ki baahon mein lete hue, woh raat usay phir yaad aa rahi thi, jaise kal ki baat ho.

Us raat bhi bijli gayi hui thi. Baarish ho rahi thi — October ki baarish, tez aur achanak — aur ghar ke sab log neeche thay, mom battiyan jalaye, baarish ki aawaaz sun rahe thay. Sab, siwaye Nasim ke. Nasim chhat par thi, akeli, baarish mein bheegti hui, aur ro rahi thi.

Babar ne use khirrki se dekha tha. Woh neeche aaya tha, chhat ki seedhiyon tak gaya tha, par phir ruk gaya tha. Us ne Nasim ko rote hue dekha tha — us ke kandhe hil rahe thay, us ke baal bheeg kar us ke chehre par chipak gaye thay — aur us ka dil toot gaya tha. Woh us ke paas jaana chahta tha, usay gale lagana chahta tha, us se kehna chahta tha ke sab theek ho jayega. Par woh jaanta tha — Nasim akele rona chahti thi. Woh aisi thi — apna dard khud sambhalti thi, kisi ko bojh nahi banana chahti thi.

To Babar wapas neeche aaya tha, apne kamre mein gaya tha, aur apna laptop khola tha. Bahir baarish baras rahi thi, bijli chamak rahi thi, aur us ke dil mein toofaan tha. Us ne email ka naya draft khola tha, aur likhna shuru kiya tha.

Pehle us ne likha tha, phir mitaya tha. Phir likha tha, phir mitaya tha. Alfaaz nahi mil rahe thay — woh alfaaz jo us ke dil mein thay, woh zabaan par nahi aa rahe thay. Us ne chai banayi thi, pi thi, phir dobara likhna shuru kiya tha. Aur aahista aahista, jaise baarish ka paani zameen mein jazb hota hai, us ke dil ki baat screen par utarne lagi thi.

Us ne likha tha apne bachpan ke baare mein — jab Nasim us ke liye apne hisse ki kulfi bachati thi, jab woh bukhaar mein us ki patti karti thi, jab us ne use cycle chalana sikhaya tha. Us ne likha tha us din ke baare mein jab us ne pehli dafa mehsoos kiya tha ke Nasim sirf us ki behan nahi hai — woh us ki duniya hai. Woh dasveen jamaat mein tha, aur Nasim ne us ke liye poori raat jaag kar us ka project tayyar kiya tha. Subah jab us ne use dekha tha — thaki hui, par muskurati hui — to us ke dil mein kuch hil gaya tha. Us din us ne jaana tha ke mohabbat kya hoti hai.

Us ne likha tha Imran ke baare mein — kaise us ne dekha tha ke Nasim khush hone ka dikhawa kar rahi hai, kaise us ne apne dil par pathar rakh kar peeche hata tha, kaise us ne dua ki thi ke Nasim khush rahe, chahe us ke saath na sahi. Aur phir kaise Imran ne usay tor diya tha — us din Babar ne apne aap ko kamre mein band kar ke roya tha, pehli dafa apni jawani mein. Us ne socha tha ke woh ja kar Imran ka garebaan pakar le, par Nasim ne use rok diya tha. “Rehne do, Babar,” us ne kaha tha. “Woh is qabil nahi ke tum apne haath gande karo.”

Us ne likha tha apne darr ke baare mein — ke woh kaise darta tha ke agar us ne apne dil ki baat kahi to Nasim us se door ho jayegi, ke un ka rishta toot jayega, ke woh apni sab se qeemti cheez kho dega. Us ne likha tha apni duaon ke baare mein — har namaz mein us ne Nasim ki khushi maangi thi, apne liye kuch nahi maanga tha.

Aur aakhir mein us ne likha tha: “Main intezaar karunga.”

Jab email mukammal hua to subah ke chaar baj rahe thay. Baarish ruk gayi thi, bijli aa gayi thi, aur ghar mein khaamoshi thi. Babar ne email ko dobara parha tha — ek dafa, do dafa, teen dafa — aur har dafa us ki aankhon mein aansu aaye thay. Phir us ne apna cursor “send” ke button par le jaaya tha — aur ruk gaya tha.

“Nahi,” us ne khud se kaha tha. “Abhi nahi. Woh zakhmi hai. Woh tooti hui hai. Agar main ne aaj ye bheja to woh sochegi ke main us ki kamzori ka faida utha raha hoon. Main intezaar karunga. Jab woh poori hogi, jab woh mazboot hogi, jab woh khud faisla kar sakegi — tab.”

Us ne email ko drafts mein save kiya tha, laptop band kiya tha, aur so gaya tha. Aur agle din, jab Nasim ne use nashtay par dekha tha — us ki aankhein laal thin, neend poori nahi hui thi — to us ne poocha tha, “tum theek ho?” Aur Babar ne muskurate hue kaha tha, “haan, bas kaam tha.”

Teen saal tak, woh email wahin para raha tha — drafts mein, unsent. Teen saal tak, Babar ne har raat usay khola tha, parha tha, aur phir band kar diya tha. Kabhi us ne us mein kuch izafa kiya tha — Nasim ki muskurahat ke baare mein, us ki himmat ke baare mein, us din ke baare mein jab us ne Zainab ko university mein admission dilwaya tha. Aur kabhi us ne kuch mitaya tha — woh alfaaz jo ab purane lagte thay.

Zainab ne use ek dafa dekha tha — do saal pehle, jab woh Babar ke kamre mein us ki kitaab lene gayi thi aur laptop khula tha. Us ne subject parha tha — “Nasim — dil ki baat” — aur us ka dil dharak utha tha. Us ne email nahi khola tha — us mein itni tameez thi — par us ne samajh liya tha. Us din se woh jaanti thi. Aur us ne kisi ko nahi bataya tha — na Naveed ko, na Nasim ko. Woh intezaar kar rahi thi — sahi waqt ka.

Aur aaj, teen saal baad, woh waqt aa gaya tha. Bijli gayi thi, chand nikla tha, aur woh email — woh unsent email — aakhir apni manzil tak pahunch gaya tha. Drafts se nikal kar, screen se utar kar, do dilon mein bas gaya tha.

Babar ne Nasim ko dekha, jo us ki baahon mein so rahi thi, aur us ne socha — teen saal ka intezaar, har raat ka dard, har subah ki ummeed — sab is ek lamhe ke liye tha. Aur ye lamha har qeemat par sasta tha.

Us ne chand ki taraf dekha aur dheere se kaha, “Shukriya.”

Chand ne koi jawaab nahi diya — par us ki roshni thodi aur tez ho gayi, jaise woh bhi khush ho.

Nasim ki aankh khuli to subah ke paanch baj rahe thay. Chand ab doob raha tha, aur mashriq mein halki si surkhi phel rahi thi. Woh Babar ki baahon mein thi, chadar mein lipti hui, aur pehli dafa barson mein us ne subah ko khushi se dekha tha. Us ne Babar ke chehre ko dekha — soye hue mein woh kitna masoom lag raha tha — aur us ke dil mein mohabbat ka samandar umad aaya.

Par us khushi ke saath ek purana dard bhi jaaga — Imran ka dard. Woh dard jo us ne barson se apne dil ke kisi kone mein dafan kar rakha tha, aur jo aaj, is khushi ke mauqe par, phir sar utha raha tha. Us ne apni aankhein band kar lin aur woh din yaad karne lagi jab sab kuch toota tha.

Do saal pehle ki baat thi. Imran — ammi ki khaala ka beta — rishta lekar aaya tha. Pehli mulaqat mein hi Nasim ko woh achha laga tha — sanjeeda, parha likha, bank mein achhi naukri. Ammi ne kitne armaan sajaye thay — “meri beti dulhan banegi,” woh kehti thin, aur un ki aankhon mein khushi chamakti thi. Abba ne bhi haan kar di thi — “larka acha hai,” unhon ne kaha tha.

Nasim ne bhi sapne dekhne shuru kar diye thay — chhote chhote sapne, jo har larki dekhti hai. Apna ghar, apni rasoi, apne bachche. Us ne apne jahaiz ki tayyari shuru kar di thi — ammi ke saath bazaar jaana, kapre pasand karna, bartan khareedna. Zainab usay chherrti thi — “api dulhan banengi” — aur Naveed kehta tha, “dekhna, shaadi par main sab se acha suit pehnunga.” Babar — Babar us waqt khaamosh rehta tha. Ab Nasim samajhti thi kyun. Us waqt woh samajhi nahi thi.

Phir ek din Imran ki ammi aayein — tanha, ammi se baat karne. Unhon ne kaha ke “riwaaj” ke mutabiq kuch “tayyariyan” honi chahiye. Pehle to ammi samjhin ke mamooli baat hai — kapre, bartan, ye woh. Par phir list lambi hoti gayi — gaari, flat ki down payment, zewar ki ek khaas miqdaar. Aur aakhir mein unhon ne kaha, “dekhiye, hum to seedhi baat karte hain — itna to hona chahiye, warna log kya kahenge.”

Ammi ne abba ko bataya, abba ne Imran se baat ki, Imran ne kaha, “ammi ki baat hai, main kya kar sakta hoon.” Us ek jumlay mein Nasim ne sab samajh liya tha — ye woh shakhs nahi tha jo us ke liye khara ho sake. Ye woh shakhs tha jo apni ammi ke peeche chhupega, aaj is baat par, kal kisi aur baat par.

Us raat Nasim ne faisla kiya tha. Us ne ammi se kaha tha, “ye rishta nahi hoga.” Ammi ro pari thin — “log kya kahenge, beta? Itni door baat aa gayi hai.” Abba khaamosh thay — un ki khaamoshi mein sharmindagi thi, dukh tha. Zainab ne use gale lagaya tha, Naveed ne us ka haath pakra tha. Aur Babar — Babar ne sirf itna kaha tha, “tum ne sahi faisla kiya hai.”

Par logon ne to kehna tha. Rishtedaron ne kaha — “larki mein hi koi kami hogi,” “itni umar ho gayi, ab kaun karega,” “parhi likhi larkiyon ka yehi haal hota hai.” Har dawat mein, har shaadi mein, Nasim ko un nazron ka saamna karna parta tha — woh nazrein jo kehti thin, “bechari.” Us ne apne aap ko kamre mein band kar liya tha, kitni raatein royi thi, kitni subhein us ne socha tha ke kaash woh maan leti, kaash woh sab seh leti.

Par phir ek din us ne aaina dekha tha — apna chehra, apni laal aankhein, apni tooti hui muskurahat — aur us ne khud se kaha tha, “bas.” Us din se us ne faisla kar liya tha — ab koi rishta nahi, koi mohabbat nahi, koi ummeed nahi. Sirf kaam, sirf ghar, sirf zimmedaari. Us ne apne dil ke gird ek deewar khari kar di thi — itni unchi, itni mazboot ke koi usay tor na sake.

Aur Babar — bechara Babar — us deewar ke us paar khara, teen saal tak, us ka intezaar karta raha tha. Us ne kabhi deewar par dastak nahi di thi, kabhi usay torne ki koshish nahi ki thi. Woh sirf khara raha tha — sabar se, mohabbat se — aur intezaar karta raha tha ke ek din Nasim khud darwaaza kholegi.

Aur aaj — aaj us ne khol diya tha.

Nasim ne apne aansu ponchhe — ye aansu dukh ke nahi thay, ye shukr ke thay. Shukr ke Babar ne haar nahi maani thi. Shukr ke us ne intezaar kiya tha. Shukr ke us ne use us waqt chaha tha jab woh toot chuki thi, aur ab bhi chahta tha jab woh jud rahi thi.

Us ne Babar ke maathe par bosa diya — dheere se, taake woh jaag na jaye — aur phir woh uth khari hui. Us ne apne kapre theek kiye, apna dupatta sambhala, aur chhat ke kinare tak gayi. Mashriq mein suraj nikalne wala tha, aur aasmaan gulabi ho raha tha. Neeche gali mein ab bhi andhera tha — bijli abhi nahi aayi thi — par upar, aasmaan par, roshni aa rahi thi.

“Subah ho rahi hai,” us ne dheere se kaha, aur us ne mehsoos kiya ke ye sirf din ki subah nahi thi — ye us ki zindagi ki subah thi. Nayi subah. Nayi zindagi.

Peeche se usay Babar ki aawaaz aayi — neend mein, dheemi si. “Nasim —” Woh muskura di, aur wapas us ke paas aa gayi. Woh abhi so raha tha, par us ka haath barha hua tha — usay dhoond raha tha. Nasim ne us ka haath thaama, aur us ke paas let gayi. “Main yahin hoon,” us ne kaha. “Main kahin nahi ja rahi.”

Babar ne neend mein hi usay apne qareeb kheencha, aur dono phir so gaye — is dafa, befikr, pur sukoon, ek doosre ki baahon mein. Aur upar, aasmaan par, suraj ne apni pehli kiran bhej di — un par, un ke “chand ka ghar” par.

Us raat, chhat ke doosre kinare par, Zainab aur Naveed jaag rahe thay — dono ne sone ka dikhawa kiya tha, par dono ki aankhein khuli thin. Unhon ne dekha nahi tha — unhon ne apni izzat ke saath nazrein hata li thin — par unhon ne suna tha, mehsoos kiya tha. Aur ab, jab khaamoshi chhaa gayi thi, to dono dheere dheere baatein karne lage.

“So rahe ho?” Zainab ne sar goshi ki.

“Nahi,” Naveed ne kaha. “Tum?”

“Nahi.”

Dono kuch der khaamosh rahe. Phir Zainab ne kaha, “Naveed, tumhe pata tha? Babar bhai ke baare mein?”

Naveed ne kuch der socha, phir kaha, “Shak tha. Aaj yaqeen ho gaya.”

“Mujhe do saal se pata tha,” Zainab ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein fakhr tha. “Main ne un ka email dekha tha — drafts mein. ‘Nasim — dil ki baat.’ Main ne khola nahi tha, par mujhe samajh aa gaya tha.”

“Tum ne kisi ko bataya nahi?” Naveed ne poocha.

“Kisko batati?” Zainab ne kaha. “Api ko? Woh to pehle se hi dari hui thin. Babar bhai ko? Unhe sharminda karti? Main ne socha — waqt aayega to sab khud theek ho jayega. Aur dekho — aaj waqt aa gaya.”

Naveed ne us ka haath pakra. “Tum bahut samajhdaar ho gayi ho, chhoti.”

“Bari ho gayi hoon,” Zainab ne kaha, aur woh muskurayi. “Ab to ammi meri shaadi ki fikar mein hain.”

“To karo na shaadi,” Naveed ne chherra. “Koi larka hai nazar mein?”

Zainab ne use dhakka diya. “Tumhe bara shauq hai mujhe ghar se nikaalne ka.”

“Shauq nahi,” Naveed ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz sanjeeda ho gayi. “Bas chahta hoon ke tum khush raho. Jaise aaj api khush hain.”

Dono ne doosri taraf dekha — jahan Babar aur Nasim ek doosre ki baahon mein so rahe thay, chandni mein. Zainab ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye. “Dekho unhe,” us ne dheere se kaha. “Kitne sukoon se so rahe hain. Jaise duniya ka koi gham hi na ho.”

“Haan,” Naveed ne kaha. “Aur ye sukoon unhe milna chahiye tha — barson pehle.”

“Tumhe pata hai,” Zainab ne kaha, “main ne kabhi socha nahi tha ke mohabbat itni khubsurat ho sakti hai. Itni — itni paak. Babar bhai ne teen saal intezaar kiya, baghair kuch kahe, baghair kuch maange. Ye to filmon mein bhi nahi hota.”

“Filmon mein sab jhoot hota hai,” Naveed ne kaha. “Ye asli hai. Is liye khubsurat hai.”

Dono phir khaamosh ho gaye. Hawa chal rahi thi, aur chand ab doobne laga tha. Zainab ne apna sar Naveed ke kandhe par rakha — wohi purani aadat — aur Naveed ne us ke baalon mein haath phera.

“Naveed,” Zainab ne dheere se kaha, “tumhe kabhi laga ke — ke hum chaaron mein se koi akela reh jayega?”

“Kyun?”

“Bas aise hi. Api ne to faisla kar liya tha ke woh shaadi nahi karengi. Babar bhai ne kabhi kisi larki ki taraf dekha nahi. Tum — tum apne kaam mein gum ho. Main — main pata nahi.” Zainab ne saans li. “Kabhi kabhi darr lagta hai ke hum aise hi reh jaayein ge — chaaron, is ghar mein, budhe hote hue.”

Naveed hans para. “To is mein burai kya hai? Hum chaaron saath hain — yehi to sab se bari khushi hai.”

“Par har kisi ko apna humsafar chahiye hota hai,” Zainab ne kaha.

“Humsafar?” Naveed ne chand ki taraf dekha. “Shayad humsafar zaroori nahi. Shayad — shayad ghar walon ka saath hi kaafi hai. Dekho api aur Babar bhai ko — unhe ek doosre mein humsafar mil gaya, aur woh bhi isi ghar mein. Shayad hum sab ki kismat isi ghar se juri hai.”

Zainab ne us ki taraf dekha. “Tum kabhi kabhi bahut gehri baatein karte ho.”

“Kabhi kabhi,” Naveed ne kaha, aur woh muskuraya. “Baaqi waqt to main bewakoof hi hoon.”

Dono hans pare, aur un ki hansi mein woh befikri thi jo sirf un logon mein hoti hai jo ek doosre se beinteha pyaar karte hain. Zainab ne apni aankhein band kar lin, aur Naveed ke kandhe par sar rakhe, woh so gayi — pur sukoon, bekhauf. Naveed ne use dekha, phir chand ko, phir apne soye hue bhai behan ko.

Us ne dua ki — khaamoshi mein, dil se. “Ya Allah, in sab ko khush rakh. Aur is ghar ko — is ‘chand ka ghar’ ko — hamesha aabaad rakh.”

Chand ne us ki dua sun li — ya shayad nahi suni — par us ki roshni ab bhi un par baras rahi thi, naram, thandi, mohabbat bhari.

Subah ke chhe baj rahe thay jab bijli wapas aayi — ek halki si “klik” ke saath, phir pankhon ki ghurr ghurr, phir fridge ki purani aawaaz. Ghar jaag utha, jaise koi gehri neend se uthta hai. Chhat par, chaaron ki aankhein khulin — pehle Zainab ki, phir Naveed ki, phir Nasim ki, aur aakhir mein Babar ki.

“Bijli aa gayi!” Zainab ne khushi se kaha, aur woh uth khari hui. “Dekho, pankha chal raha hai — neeche!”

Sab hans pare. Neeche jaane par ghar ki halat dekh kar sab ko hansi aayi — mom battiyon ke dhabbe, bikhre hue bartan, khuli hui khirkiyan. Par kisi ko bura nahi laga. Aaj sab kuch achha lag raha tha.

Nasim ne nashta banaya — parathe, ande, chai. Aaj us ke haathon mein ek nayi phurti thi, us ke chehre par ek nayi roshni. Zainab ne use dekha aur muskurayi — us ne pehchaan liya tha woh farq. “Api,” us ne chherrte hue kaha, “aaj to parathe kuch zyada hi mazedaar lag rahe hain. Kya baat hai?”

Nasim ne sharma kar use dekha. “Kuch nahi. Khaana khao.”

“Achha?” Zainab ne Babar ki taraf dekha, jo chai pi raha tha aur muskur raha tha. “Babar bhai, aap to kuch nahi keh rahe?”

“Main kya kahun?” Babar ne masoomiyat se kaha. “Parathe waqayi achhe bane hain.”

Naveed ne zor se hansi roki. “Haan, aaj ki subah hi kuch khaas hai. Hawa mein mithaas hai.”

Chaaron ne ek doosre ko dekha, aur phir sab ek saath hans pare — woh hansi jo dil se nikalti hai, jo khushi se bharpoor hoti hai. Nashta khushi khushi khatam hua, aur phir Babar ne kaha, “Ammi abba ko phone karte hain. Unhe batana chahiye.”

Nasim ka chehra ek pal ke liye sanjeeda hua. “Abhi?”

“Abhi,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ne us ka haath thaama — sab ke saamne, baghair kisi darr ke. “Der kis baat ki?”

Nasim ne us ka haath thama raha — us ne peeche nahi hataya. Ye us ka faisla tha — khula faisla, sab ke saamne. Zainab ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye, aur Naveed ne us ke kandhe par haath rakha.

Babar ne phone milaya. Doosri taraf ammi ne uthaya — “hello? Babar? Sab khairiyat?”

“Ji ammi, sab khairiyat hai,” Babar ne kaha. “Abba hain?”

“Han, yehi hain. Ruko, speaker par lagati hoon.” Thodi der baad abba ki aawaaz aayi — gehri, naram. “Haan beta, bolo.”

Babar ne Nasim ki taraf dekha, us ne haan mein sar hilaya, aur phir Babar ne woh alfaaz kahe jo us ne barson se kehne ka intezaar kiya tha: “Abba, ammi — main Nasim se shaadi karna chahta hoon.”

Doosri taraf khaamoshi chhaa gayi — itni lambi khaamoshi ke Babar ka dil zor zor se dharakne laga. Phir ammi ki aawaaz aayi — dheemi, hairat bhari. “Kya? Tum — tum dono —”

“Ji ammi,” Nasim ne kaha, phone ke qareeb aate hue. “Hum dono ek doosre se — hum dono ne faisla kiya hai.”

Phir abba bole — aur un ki aawaaz mein ghussa nahi tha, sirf fikar thi. “Beta, tum jaante ho ye kya keh rahe ho? Log kya kahenge? Rishtedaar —”

“Abba,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mazboot thi, “logon ne Imran ke waqt bhi kaha tha. Log hamesha kehte hain. Par main Nasim se pyaar karta hoon — barson se. Aur woh mujhse. Hum ne koi ghalat kaam nahi kiya, abba. Hum ne sirf — hum ne sirf apne dil ki suni hai.”

Phir ammi bolin — aur un ki aawaaz mein aansu thay. “Nasim, beta — tum khush ho?”

Nasim ki aankhon se aansu beh nikle. “Haan, ammi. Main bahut khush hoon. Pehli dafa — pehli dafa barson mein, main poori tarah khush hoon.”

Ammi kuch der khaamosh rahin, phir unhon ne kaha, “To phir — to phir mujhe aur kya chahiye? Meri beti ki khushi se barh kar mere liye kuch nahi.” Un ki aawaaz bhar aayi. “Bas — bas tum dono ne mujhe pehle kyun nahi bataya?”

“Hum darte thay, ammi,” Babar ne kaha.

“Darr kis baat ka, beta?” Abba ne kaha, aur un ki aawaaz ab naram thi. “Tum mere bachche ho. Tumhari khushi meri khushi hai. Haan, log kahenge — par logon ka kaam hai kehna. Tum dono ne agar soch samajh kar faisla kiya hai, to main tumhare saath hoon.”

“Shukriya, abba,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aankhon mein aansu thay.

“Aur suno,” ammi ne kaha, aur un ki aawaaz mein ab khushi thi, “jab hum wapas aayein ge to dhoom dhaam se — chhoti si, ghar ki shaadi kareinge. Koi bara tamasha nahi — bas apne log.”

“Ji ammi,” Nasim ne kaha, hanste hue, rote hue.

Phone rakhne ke baad, chaaron ek doosre ko dekhte rahe — aur phir Zainab ne khushi se chillate hue Nasim ko gale laga liya. “Api! Mubarak ho!”

“Mubarak ho, bhai!” Naveed ne Babar ko gale lagaya. “Aakhir tum ne himmat kar hi li.”

Sab ne mithaas khaayi — jo Zainab ne foran bazaar se mangwayi thi — aur ghar mein khushi ka samaan tha. Bijli aa gayi thi, pankhe chal rahe thay, par kisi ko un ki parwah nahi thi. Aaj un ke dilon mein jo roshni thi, woh kisi bijli ki mohtaaj nahi thi.

Dopahar ko jab sab aaraam kar rahe thay, to Nasim Babar ke kamre mein gayi. Babar apne laptop par kaam kar raha tha. Us ne use dekha aur muskuraya. “Aao.”

Nasim us ke paas beth gayi. “Kya kar rahe ho?”

“Email likh raha hoon,” Babar ne kaha, aur phir woh hans para. “Mazaaq kar raha hoon. Client ko jawaab de raha hoon.”

Nasim ne us ka laptop dekha — drafts folder khaali tha. Us ne Babar ki taraf dekha aur kaha, “Tum ne wada kiya tha — ab koi unsent baat nahi.”

“Aur main wada nibhaaunga,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ne laptop band kar diya. “Ab jo kehna hoga, tumse kahunga — tumhare saamne, tumhari aankhon mein dekh kar.”

Nasim ne us ke gaal par bosa diya. “Yehi to main sunna chahti thi.”

Bahir, gali mein zindagi rawann thi — bachche khel rahe thay, dukanein khul gayi thin, aur K-Electric ki bijli apni poori shaan se chamak rahi thi. Par us corner wale ghar mein, chaar behan bhai jaante thay ke asli roshni bijli se nahi aati — woh dil se aati hai. Aur un ke dil aaj roshan thay.

Do hafte baad ammi abba Lahore se wapas aaye — aur un ke saath aayi khushiyon ki bahaar. Ammi ne Nasim ko dekhte hi use gale laga liya tha, aur der tak roti rahi thin — khushi ke aansu. “Meri bachi,” woh kehti rahi thin, “meri bachi ko aakhir khushi mil gayi.”

Abba ne Babar ko gale lagaya tha, aur us ke kandhe par haath rakh kar kaha tha, “tum ne sahi waqt par sahi faisla kiya, beta. Mujhe tum par fakhr hai.”

Shaadi ki tayyariyan shuru ho gayin — chhoti si, ghar ki shaadi, jaisa ammi ne kaha tha. Par “chhoti si” ka matlab ye nahi tha ke khushi chhoti thi. Zainab ne poore ghar ko sajaya tha — genday ke phool, roshniyan, aur chhat par wohi charpaiyan, jo ab dulhan ke jode ke rang mein sajayi gayi thin. Naveed ne khaane ka intezaam kiya tha — biryani, qorma, sheer khurma — aur us ne fakhr se kaha tha, “meri api ki shaadi hai, koi kami nahi honi chahiye.”

Rishtedaron mein kuch ne aitraaz kiya tha — “behan bhai ki shaadi?” — par abba ne sab ko ek hi jawaab diya tha: “woh mere bachche hain, aur woh khush hain. Is se barh kar mere liye kuch nahi.” Aur aahista aahista, aitraaz karne walon ki aawaazein dheemi ho gayin — kyunke khushi ke aage har aitraaz chhota par jata hai.

Nikkah ki raat, ghar mein raunaq thi. Molvi sahab aaye thay, gawah thay, aur duaen thin. Jab molvi sahab ne poocha, “Nasim bibi, kya aap ko ye nikkah qubool hai?” to Nasim ne Babar ki aankhon mein dekha — aur kaha, “qubool hai.” Teen dafa. Har dafa us ki aawaaz aur mazboot hoti gayi.

Babar ne bhi kaha — “qubool hai” — aur us ki aankhon mein aansu thay. Teen saal ka intezaar, barson ki khaamosh mohabbat, woh unsent email — sab is ek lamhe mein simat aaye thay.

Dua hui, mithaas banti, aur phir rukhsati — jo rukhsati nahi thi, kyunke Nasim kahin nahi ja rahi thi. Woh isi ghar mein thi, apne ghar mein. Ammi ne use gale lagaya, abba ne us ke sar par haath rakha, Zainab ro pari — khushi se — aur Naveed ne use chherra, “ab to tum officially hamari bhabhi ho gayi ho — ab to tumhe double izzat deni paregi.”

“Double izzat?” Nasim ne hanste hue kaha. “Pehle wali izzat kahan gayi?”

Sab hans pare. Aur Babar ne Nasim ka haath thaama — sab ke saamne — aur kaha, “ab ye haath main kabhi nahi chhorunga.”

Us raat, nikkah ke baad, chaaron phir chhat par gaye — jaise us raat gaye thay. Bijli thi — pankhe chal rahe thay — par unhon ne phir mom battiyan jalayein, aur phir bujha di. Kyunke aaj bhi chand nikla hua tha — poora, roshan, un par apni mohabbat barsata hua.

“Dekho,” Zainab ne kaha, “aaj phir chand ka ghar saja hai.”

“Aaj to dulhan bhi hai is ghar mein,” Naveed ne kaha, aur us ne Nasim ki taraf dekha. “Api — matlab, bhabhi — aap aaj chand se bhi zyada roshan lag rahi hain.”

Nasim sharma gayi — pehli dafa dulhan ki tarah sharmaayi. Babar ne use dekha, aur us ka dil bhar aaya. Ye wohi Nasim thi — par aaj kuch aur thi. Aaj us ke chehre par woh sukoon tha jo sirf poori hui khwahishon mein hota hai.

Ammi abba bhi chhat par aaye — thodi der ke liye. Ammi ne Nasim ke paas beth kar us ke haath thaame, aur kaha, “beta, khush raho. Aur ek baat yaad rakhna — shaadi mein sab se zaroori cheez mohabbat nahi, izzat hai. Aur tum dono mein woh hai.”

“Ji ammi,” Nasim ne kaha.

Abba ne Babar se kaha, “beta, isay khush rakhna. Ye meri amaanat hai tumhare paas.”

“Ji abba,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein wada tha. “Main isay apni jaan se bhi zyada chahunga.”

Ammi abba neeche chale gaye, aur chaaron phir akelay reh gaye — apne chand ke ghar mein. Zainab aur Naveed ne ek doosre ko dekha, aur phir woh uth khare hue.

“Hum chalte hain,” Zainab ne kaha, aankh machkate hue. “Aap dono ko — kuch baatein karni hon gi.”

“Zainab!” Nasim ne kaha, par woh hans rahi thi.

“Achha baba, ja rahe hain,” Naveed ne kaha, aur dono seedhiyan utar gaye — hanste hue, khush.

Ab chhat par sirf do thay — Babar aur Nasim. Dulha aur dulhan. Chandni mein, hawa mein, apne ghar mein.

Babar ne Nasim ka haath thaama, aur use chhat ke kinare tak le gaya. Neeche gali so rahi thi, upar taare chamak rahe thay, aur chand — wohi chand, jo us raat bhi tha — un par dekh raha tha.

“Yaad hai,” Babar ne dheere se kaha, “us raat main ne tumse kaha tha ke ye hamari raat hai?”

“Yaad hai,” Nasim ne kaha.

“Aaj main kehta hoon — ye hamari zindagi hai,” Babar ne kaha. “Har raat hamari raat hogi. Har subah hamari subah hogi.”

Nasim ne us ke seenay par sar rakha. “Babar,” us ne kaha, “tum ne mujhe sab kuch diya — izzat, mohabbat, sabar. Main tumhe kya dun?”

“Tum ne mujhe sab se qeemti cheez de di hai,” Babar ne kaha. “Tum ne mujhe apna aitmaad diya. Apna dil diya. Is se barh kar kya ho sakta hai?”

Us raat, unhon ne apni nayi zindagi ka aaghaz kiya — chandni mein, mohabbat mein, ek doosre ki baahon mein. Aur is dafa, koi darr nahi tha, koi deewar nahi thi, koi unsent baat nahi thi. Sirf do dil thay, jo aakhir ek ho gaye thay — hamesha ke liye.

Cheh maah guzar gaye thay. Karachi mein mausam badal gaya tha — October ki garmi ab December ki khunki mein badal gayi thi, aur DHA ki galiyon mein dhoop naram ho gayi thi. Par us corner wale ghar mein jo tabdeeli aayi thi, woh mausam se kahin gehri thi.

Nasim ab wohi thi, par kuch aur bhi thi. Office mein us ki taraqqi hui thi — us ke boss ne kaha tha, “tum mein ek nayi energy aayi hai.” Ghar mein woh ab bhi sab ka khayaal rakhti thi, par ab Babar us ka khayaal rakhta tha — subah us ke liye chai banata tha, raat ko us ke pair dabata tha jab woh thak jaati thi, aur har Jumme ko use bahir khaane le jaata tha — “hamari date,” woh kehta tha, aur Nasim sharma kar hansti thi.

Babar ka kaam bhi acha chal raha tha. Us ne apna khud ka chhota sa software house khol liya tha — Naveed us ka partner tha — aur dono bhai mil kar mehnat karte thay. Office un ke ghar ke qareeb hi tha, taake Babar jaldi ghar aa sake. “Ghar se door nahi reh sakta,” woh kehta tha, aur Naveed use chherrta tha, “bhai, tum to majnu ban gaye ho.”

Zainab ki university mukammal ho gayi thi, aur usay ek achhi naukri mil gayi thi — ek NGO mein, bachchon ki taleem ke liye kaam karti thi. Woh khush thi — apne kaam mein, apni zindagi mein. Aur haan, ek larka bhi tha — us ke office mein, acha, shareef — par ye kahani phir kabhi.

Naveed ka business idea — jo ek dafa nakaam hua tha — ab kaamyaab ho raha tha. Babar ke saath mil kar us ne jo software house khola tha, woh tarakki kar raha tha. Woh ab bhi wahi sharaarti tha, par ab us mein zimmedaari bhi aa gayi thi.

Ammi abba khush thay — itne khush ke ammi har dawat mein kehti thin, “meri beti aur damad — dono mere apne.” Abba kehte thay, “Allah ne mujhe chaar bachche diye thay, ab paanch hain” — aur jab sab hanste to woh kehte, “nahi nahi, mera matlab —” aur phir khud bhi hans parte.

Aur woh chhat — woh “chand ka ghar” — ab bhi wahin thi. Har maheene, chaand raat ko, chaaron — ab paanch nahi, chaaron, kyunke ammi abba neeche rehte thay — chhat par jaate thay, charpaiyan bichhate thay, chai banate thay, aur purani yaadein taaza karte thay. Bijli hoti thi, par woh mom battiyan jalate thay — riwaaj ban gaya tha. “Chandni mein bijli ki roshni achhi nahi lagti,” Zainab kehti thi.

Ek aisi hi chaand raat ko, Nasim ne Babar se kaha, “tumhe pata hai, main kabhi kabhi us raat ke baare mein sochti hoon — jab bijli gayi thi.”

“Kaun si raat?” Babar ne poocha, jaan boojh kar.

“Wohi raat,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ne us ka haath thama. “Jab tumhara email mila tha. Jab meri zindagi badli thi.”

Babar ne us ki aankhon mein dekha. “Tumhe kabhi afsos hua?”

“Kabhi nahi,” Nasim ne kaha, baghair hichkichahat ke. “Ek pal ke liye bhi nahi. Tum meri zindagi ka sab se khoobsurat faisla ho, Babar.”

” Aur tum meri,” Babar ne kaha.

Zainab ne unhe dekha aur Naveed se sar goshi ki, “dekho, phir shuru ho gaye.”

“Rehne do,” Naveed ne kaha. “Mohabbat karne walon ko tang nahi karte.”

“Achha?” Zainab ne kaha. “To tum kab mohabbat karo ge?”

Naveed ne chand ki taraf dekha. “Jab koi Nasim jaisi milegi.”

“Nasim jaisi to koi nahi,” Zainab ne kaha. “Tumhe apni qismat khud banani paregi.”

Dono hans pare. Aur Nasim ne socha — yehi to zindagi hai. Ye chhoti chhoti khushiyaan, ye beparwah hansi, ye ek doosre ka saath. Imran ke baad us ne socha tha ke us ki zindagi khatam ho gayi. Par zindagi khatam nahi hui thi — woh sirf ruki thi, ek naye aaghaz ka intezaar kar rahi thi. Aur woh aaghaz — woh bijli jaane ki raat mein aaya tha, chandni mein, ek unsent email ke saath.

Us raat, jab sab so gaye, to Nasim aur Babar chhat par akelay reh gaye — jaise hamesha rehte thay. Babar ne Nasim ko apni baahon mein liya, aur dono ne chand ko dekha.

“Babar,” Nasim ne dheere se kaha, “agar tum ne woh email kabhi likha hi na hota to?”

“To main tumse munh par kehta,” Babar ne kaha. “Der se sahi, par kehta zaroor.”

“Aur agar main ne kabhi parha na hota to?”

“To main intezaar karta,” Babar ne kaha. “Aur intezaar karta. Kyunke tum is qabil thin.”

Nasim ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye — khushi ke aansu. “Tum pagal ho,” us ne kaha.

“Tumhare liye,” Babar ne kaha — wohi purana jawaab, jo ab un ka apna ban gaya tha.

Chand ne un par apni roshni daali, hawa ne unhe sehlaya, aur neem ke patte sarsaraaye. Us corner wale ghar ki chhat par, do dil — jo ab ek thay — apne “chand ka ghar” mein, apni mohabbat mein, apni zindagi mein, pur sukoon thay.

Aur kahin door, K-Electric ki bijli apni marzi se aati jaati rahi — par unhe ab is ki parwah nahi thi. Kyunke unhon ne seekh liya tha ke asli roshni bijli se nahi aati. Woh dil se aati hai. Aur un ke dil — chaaron ke dil — roshan thay, hamesha ke liye.

Ek saal guzar gaya tha — poora ek saal, us raat se jab bijli gayi thi aur chand nikla tha. October phir aa gaya tha, aur Karachi phir apni purani aadat par tha — din bhar garmi, shaam ko samundari hawa. Babar aur Nasim ki shaadi ko cheh maah ho gaye thay, aur zindagi itni khubsurat ho gayi thi ke kabhi kabhi Nasim ko lagta tha ke woh sapna dekh rahi hai.

Us shaam, Nasim office se jaldi ghar aayi thi. Us ne ammi se kaha tha, “aaj raat ka khaana main banaungi — kuch khaas.” Ammi ne muskurate hue kaha tha, “khaas to roz hota hai, beta. Aaj kya baat hai?”

“Aaj ek saal ho gaya hai,” Nasim ne kaha tha, aur us ki aankhon mein woh chamak thi jo sirf khush dilon mein hoti hai.

Ammi samajh gayin thin. Unhon ne us ke sar par haath rakha tha aur kaha tha, “jao, beta. Apni raat manao.”

Nasim ne khaana banaya tha — Babar ki pasand ka — qorma, naan, aur sheer khurma. Phir us ne ek thali sajaayi thi, mom battiyan nikaleen thin — wohi purani mom battiyan, jo us ne sambhal kar rakhi thin — aur sab kuch lekar chhat par chali gayi thi. Zainab ne use dekh kar aankh machkaayi thi, “api, aaj to full tayyari hai,” aur Naveed ne kaha tha, “bhai to khush ho jayega.”

Jab Babar office se ghar aaya to Nasim ne use seedha chhat par bhej diya tha. “Jao,” us ne kaha tha, “tumhara intezaar ho raha hai.”

Babar chhat par gaya to us ki saansein ruk gayin thin. Wahan — usi chhat par, usi jagah — mom battiyan jal rahi thin, khaana laga tha, aur chand — wohi chand, poora, roshan — aasmaan mein tha. Aur Nasim — us ki Nasim — chandni mein khari, muskurati hui, us ka intezaar kar rahi thi.

“Ye sab —” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz bhar aayi thi.

“Aaj ek saal ho gaya hai,” Nasim ne kaha, us ke paas aate hue. “Us raat ko — jab bijli gayi thi, jab tumhara email mila tha, jab meri zindagi badli thi. Main chahti thi ke hum is raat ko manayein — har saal.”

Babar ne use gale laga liya, aur dono kuch der aise hi khare rahe — chandni mein, mom battiyon ki roshni mein, apne “chand ka ghar” mein.

Khaana khaya gaya — dheere dheere, baatein karte hue, hanste hue. Nasim ne Babar ko us saal ki saari baatein batayein — chhoti chhoti khushiyaan, chhoti chhoti fikrein — aur Babar ne suna, jaise woh hamesha sunta tha. Phir Nasim ne apne dupatte ke pallu se ek lifafa nikala.

“Ye kya hai?” Babar ne poocha.

“Ek khat,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ki aankhon mein sharaarat thi. “Tum ne mujhe ek khat likha tha — jo tum ne kabhi bheja nahi. Aaj main tumhe us ka jawaab de rahi hoon.”

Babar ki aankhein bhar aayein. “Nasim —”

“Sunoge?” Nasim ne poocha.

Babar ne sar hilaya, aur Nasim ne lifafa khola, khat nikala, aur parhna shuru kiya — chandni mein, mom battiyon ki roshni mein, apne shauhar ko, apne pyaar ko:

“Mere pyaare Babar, ye khat main tumhe bhej rahi hoon — kyunke ab chhupane ko kuch nahi raha.”

“Tum ne mujhe ek khat likha tha, teen saal pehle, jo tum ne kabhi bheja nahi. Main ne use parha tha — us raat, is chhat par — aur us ne meri zindagi badal di. Aaj main tumhe batana chahti hoon ke us khat ne mujh par kya asar kiya.”

“Pehle to main hairan hui thi — itna pyaar, itna sabar, itna intezaar — aur mujhe khabar bhi nahi thi. Phir mujhe ghussa aaya tha — tum ne mujhe andhere mein kyun rakha? Phir mujhe rona aaya tha — kyunke main ne mehsoos kiya ke koi mujhe itna chahta hai ke apne dil ki baat bhi mere liye qurban kar de. Aur aakhir mein — aakhir mein mujhe sukoon mila tha. Kyunke main ne jaana tha ke main akeli nahi hoon. Ke is duniya mein ek shakhs hai jo mujhe tootne nahi dega.”

“Tum ne likha tha ke tum intezaar karo ge. Tum ne intezaar kiya, Babar. Teen saal tak, har din, har raat. Aur main — main ne tumhe intezaar karwaya. Mujhe maaf kar do — un saalon ke liye, jab main ne tumhari mohabbat ko pehchana nahi, jab main ne apne darr ko tum par tarjeeh di.”

“Par aaj — aaj main tumse kehna chahti hoon ke tumhara intezaar zaya nahi gaya. Main tumse pyaar karti hoon, Babar. Aaj se nahi — barson se. Shayad us waqt se jab tum ne mujhe cycle chalana sikhaya tha aur main giri thi to tum ro pare thay. Shayad us waqt se jab tum bukhaar mein mere paas bethe thay aur tum ne kaha tha, ‘api, tum theek ho jaogi.’ Main nahi jaanti kab — par main jaanti hoon ke ye hamesha se tha. Bas main ne use pehchana nahi tha — ya pehchanne se darti thi.”

“Tum ne mujhe sikhaya ke mohabbat mein sabar hota hai. Main tumhe sikhana chahti hoon ke mohabbat mein shukr bhi hota hai. Shukr — ke tum meri zindagi mein aaye. Shukr — ke tum ne haar nahi maani. Shukr — ke tum ne mujhe mera ghar wapas diya.”

“Ab hum pati patni hain — duniya ke saamne, khuda ke saamne. Par mere liye tum hamesha wohi raho ge — woh larka jo chhat par bhoot ki kahani sun kar darta tha, woh bhai jo meri har khushi mein khush hota tha, woh shakhs jo teen saal tak chup chap mujhe chahta raha. Aur main hamesha wohi rahungi — tumhari Nasim.”

“Ye khat main bhej rahi hoon — kyunke ab koi baat unsent nahi rahegi. Jo mehsoos karungi, kahungi. Jaise tum ne wada kiya tha, waise main bhi wada karti hoon.”

“Tumhari — hamesha tumhari — Nasim.”

Nasim ne khat khatam kiya, aur us ki aankhon se aansu beh rahe thay. Babar ne use gale laga liya — zor se, jaise woh use kabhi chhorna nahi chahta tha. Dono ro rahe thay — khushi se, shukr se, mohabbat se.

“Tum ne —” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz toot rahi thi, “tum ne ye kab likha?”

“Kal raat,” Nasim ne kaha. “Jab tum so rahe thay. Main chhat par aayi thi — akeli — aur main ne likha tha. Chand ko dekh kar.”

Babar ne khat ko apne seenay se lagaya. “Main isay hamesha sambhal kar rakhunga,” us ne kaha. “Apne dil ke sab se qareeb.”

“Rakhna,” Nasim ne kaha, “par drafts mein nahi.”

Dono hans pare — rote hue, hanste hue. Aur phir Babar ne Nasim ka haath thaama, aur use chhat ke kinare tak le gaya. Neeche gali mein bijli thi — roshniyan jagmag kar rahi thin — par unhon ne mom battiyan jalayi thin, kyunke aaj unhe bijli ki roshni nahi chahiye thi. Aaj unhe chandni chahiye thi.

“Dekho,” Babar ne kaha, chand ki taraf ishaara karte hue. “Wohi chand hai.”

“Wohi raat hai,” Nasim ne kaha.

“Wohi hum hain,” Babar ne kaha. “Par ab — ab hum poore hain.”

Nasim ne us ke kandhe par sar rakha, aur dono ne chand ko dekha. Hawa chal rahi thi, neem ke patte sarsara rahe thay, aur mom battiyon ki lau hil rahi thi. Ye wohi manzar tha — ek saal pehle wala — par ab sab kuch badal gaya tha. Darr gaya tha, deewar giri thi, unsent email ab sent tha — aur do dil, jo barson se ek doosre ke liye dharak rahe thay, ab ek thay, hamesha ke liye.

Neeche se Zainab ki aawaaz aayi — “api! Babar bhai! Chai laayi hoon!” — aur phir Naveed ki hansi, aur ammi abba ki duaen. Ghar jaag raha tha, zindagi rawann thi, aur khushi har kone mein thi.

Babar ne Nasim ka haath chuma. “Chalo,” us ne kaha. “Neeche chalte hain. Sab intezaar kar rahe hon ge.”

“Ek pal,” Nasim ne kaha. Us ne chand ki taraf dekha, aur dheere se kaha, “shukriya.”

“Kis se keh rahi ho?” Babar ne poocha.

“Chand se,” Nasim ne kaha, aur woh muskurayi. “Us ne hamara ghar banaya tha — jab bijli gayi thi. Us ne humein milaya tha.”

Babar ne bhi chand ki taraf dekha, aur us ne bhi kaha, “shukriya.”

Aur chand — wohi purana chand, jo barson se unhe dekh raha tha — ne apni roshni thodi aur tez kar di, jaise keh raha ho, “khush raho, mere bachcho. Ye ghar tumhara hai — hamesha tumhara rahega.”

Dono neeche utar gaye — haath mein haath daale, dil mein mohabbat liye. Aur upar, chhat par, mom battiyan jalti rahin, chand chamakta raha, aur hawa chalti rahi — us “chand ka ghar” mein, jo ab sirf ek chhat nahi tha. Woh mohabbat ka ghar tha. Woh sabar ka ghar tha. Woh us email ka ghar tha jo kabhi bheja nahi gaya tha, aur us khat ka ghar tha jo bheja gaya tha.

Woh un chaaron ka ghar tha — Babar ka, Nasim ka, Zainab ka, Naveed ka. Woh ammi abba ka ghar tha. Woh har us dil ka ghar tha jo mohabbat mein sabar karta hai, jo darr ke peeche nahi chhupta, jo apne dil ki baat kehne ki himmat karta hai.

Chand ka ghar — jahan bijli jaane par bhi roshni rehti hai. Jahan unsent baatein bhi apni manzil paa leti hain. Jahan mohabbat — sachchi mohabbat — hamesha jeet ti hai.

Phone wali subah ke baad ka hafta us ghar ke liye ek naye mausam ki tarah tha — har din mein koi na koi chhoti si khushi, har shaam mein koi na koi naya raaz. Ammi abba ke Lahore se wapas aane mein abhi ek hafta baaqi tha, aur is ek hafte mein Babar aur Nasim ne woh sab jeena tha jo woh barson se jeena chahte thay.

Pehli subah ajeeb thi — khubsurat, par ajeeb. Nasim kitchen mein chai bana rahi thi jab Babar aaya, us ke peeche khara hua, aur us ke baalon mein apna chehra chhupa diya. “Subah bakhair,” us ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein neend thi.

Nasim ka dil zor se dharaka — ye pehli dafa tha ke Babar ne use is tarah chhua tha, din ki roshni mein, sab ke saamne — ya kam az kam, kitchen mein, jahan koi bhi aa sakta tha. “Babar,” us ne dheere se kaha, “koi aa jayega.”

“Aane do,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ne use apni taraf ghumaya. “Ab chhupane ko kuch nahi hai, Nasim. Tum meri ho — sab jaante hain.”

Us ne us ke maathe par bosa diya — naram, izzat bhara — aur usi waqt Zainab kitchen mein daakhil hui. Us ne dono ko dekha, aur foran apni aankhon par haath rakh liye — drama karte hue. “Main ne kuch nahi dekha! Main andhi hoon!”

Teenon hans pare, aur Nasim ka chehra laal ho gaya. Par us ne Babar ka haath nahi chhora. Ye us ka naya azm tha — ab woh nahi chhupegi.

Us dopahar, Babar ne Nasim se kaha, “taiyaar ho jao. Main tumhe kahin le ja raha hoon.”

“Kahan?” Nasim ne poocha.

“Ye surprise hai,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aankhon mein wohi sharaarat thi jo bachpan mein hoti thi.

Nasim ne apna behtareen jora pehna — halka gulabi, jo Babar ko hamesha pasand tha — aur jab woh neeche aayi to Babar use dekhta reh gaya. “Tum —” us ne kaha, aur us ke paas alfaaz nahi thay.

“Kaisi lag rahi hoon?” Nasim ne poocha, sharmaate hue.

“Chand jaisi,” Babar ne kaha.

Woh Sea View gaye — shaam ke waqt, jab suraj doob raha tha aur samandar sunehra lag raha tha. Gaari mein, Babar ne Nasim ka haath thaama, aur dono khaamosh thay — woh khaamoshi jo mohabbat mein hoti hai. Samandar ke kinare, unhon ne chaaye pi, bhuttay khaaye, aur bachchon ko khelte hue dekha.

“Yaad hai,” Nasim ne kaha, “bachpan mein abba humein yahan laate thay. Tum reit mein ghar banate thay, aur main use bigaar deti thi.”

“Aur phir tum roti thin jab main naraaz hota tha,” Babar ne kaha, hanste hue.

“Aur phir tum mujhe manane ke liye apni kulfi dete thay,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye — khushi ke.

Babar ne us ka haath chuma. “Ab main tumhe apni har cheez dunga, Nasim. Meri zindagi, mera waqt, meri khushiyaan — sab tumhare.”

Suraj doob gaya, aur aasmaan gulabi se neela hua, phir kaala. Taare nikle, aur chand — wohi chand — nikal aaya. Dono ne use dekha, aur dono ne ek doosre ko dekha.

“Hamara chand,” Nasim ne dheere se kaha.

“Hamesha hamara,” Babar ne kaha.

Ghar wapas aate hue, gaari mein, Nasim ne Babar ke kandhe par sar rakha, aur us ne socha — yehi to zindagi hai. Ye chhoti si khushiyaan, ye beparwah lamhe, ye ek doosre ka saath. Imran ke baad us ne socha tha ke woh kabhi kisi ke saath aise nahi beth sakegi. Par aaj — aaj woh sab se khubsurat shaam jee rahi thi.

Us hafte Naveed ka software house bhi shuru hua — pehla client mila tha, ek chhota sa project, par dono bhaiyon ke liye ye bahut bari baat thi. Us raat ghar mein jashn hua — biryani banayi gayi, mithaas banti, aur Naveed ne fakhr se kaha, “dekha? Main ne kaha tha na, ek din main kuch ban kar dikhaaunga.”

“Tum ne kaha tha?” Zainab ne chherra. “Mujhe to yaad nahi.”

” Tumhe to kuch yaad nahi rehta,” Naveed ne kaha, aur dono phir larne lage — wohi purani, pyaari larai.

Zainab ka NGO wala interview bhi usi hafte tha — aur woh kaamyaab hui thi. Jab us ne ghar aakar khabar sunayi to Nasim ne use gale laga liya tha, aur us ki aankhon mein aansu thay. “Meri chhoti behan bari ho gayi,” us ne kaha.

“Api,” Zainab ne kaha, “ye sab tumhari duaon ka nateeja hai. Tum ne hamesha mera khayaal rakha — ab meri baari hai.”

Us raat, jab sab so gaye, to Babar Nasim ke kamre mein aaya — pehli dafa, darwaaze se, izzat ke saath. Nasim ne use dekha, aur muskurayi. “Aao,” us ne kaha.

Dono der tak baatein karte rahe — apne bachpan ki, apne sapnon ki, apne mustaqbil ki. Babar ne bataya ke woh kaisa ghar banana chahta hai — chhat par ek chhota sa bagheecha, jahan woh dono shaam ko betha karein. Nasim ne bataya ke woh kaisa khaana banana chahti hai — Babar ki pasand ka, har roz kuch naya.

“Aur bachche?” Babar ne dheere se poocha, aur us ki aankhon mein ummeed thi.

Nasim sharma gayi, par us ne kaha, “haan. Do — ek larka, ek larki. Larka tum jaisa, larki mere jaisi.”

“To woh dono larenge,” Babar ne hanste hue kaha.

“Jaise hum larte thay,” Nasim ne kaha, aur dono hans pare.

Phir khaamoshi chhaa gayi — woh khaamoshi jo do dilon ke beech hoti hai jab woh ek doosre ko samajhte hain. Babar ne Nasim ko apni baahon mein liya, aur dono let gaye — kapron mein, izzat ke saath, par ek doosre ke itne qareeb ke un ke dilon ki dharkan ek ho gayi.

“Nasim,” Babar ne us ke kaan mein sar goshi ki, “kya main tumhe chhu sakta hoon?”

“Haan,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ne us ka haath apne chehre par rakha. “Tum mujhe kabhi bhi chhu sakte ho, Babar. Main tumhari hoon.”

Babar ne us ke chehre ko sehlaya, us ke baalon mein ungliyaan phereen, us ke honthon par apne honth rakhe — dheere dheere, mohabbat se. Ye bosa pehle se alag tha — is mein jaldi nahi thi, is mein sirf sukoon tha. Nasim ne apni aankhein band kar lin, aur us ne mehsoos kiya ke us ka dil itna bhara hua hai ke lagta tha phat jayega — khushi se.

Us ne Babar ki qameez ke andar haath daala, us ke seenay ko mehsoos kiya — us ke dil ki dharkan, tez, us ke naam par. Babar ne us ke dupatte ko sarka diya, us ki gardan par bosa diya, aur Nasim ne ek halki si aah bhari — khushi ki, khwahish ki.

“Ruko,” us ne kaha, aur Babar ruk gaya — foran, baghair sawal ke. “Main theek hoon,” Nasim ne kaha, us ki aankhon mein dekhte hue. “Bas — bas dheere dheere. Main is lamhe ko jeena chahti hoon.”

Babar ne sar hilaya, aur woh dheere hua — itna dheere ke har chhoona ek ibadat lag raha tha. Us ne Nasim ke har hisse ko chuma — us ke maathe ko, us ki aankhon ko, us ke gaalon ko, us ki gardan ko — aur har bose mein us ne apni mohabbat ka izhaar kiya. Nasim ne use apne se lagaya, aur dono ek ho gaye — dheere dheere, mohabbat se, izzat se.

Jab sab kuch tham gaya, to Nasim Babar ke seenay par leti thi, us ke dil ki dharkan sun rahi thi. “Babar,” us ne dheere se kaha, “tumhe pata hai, main ne kabhi socha nahi tha ke koi mujhe itni izzat de sakta hai.”

“Tum is qabil ho,” Babar ne kaha, us ke baalon mein ungliyaan pherte hue. “Tum duniya ki sab se qeemti cheez ho, Nasim.”

“Ab so jao,” Nasim ne kaha. “Kal ammi abba aa rahe hain.”

“Haan,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ne usay aur zor se apne se lagaya. “Kal nayi zindagi shuru hogi.”

Dono so gaye — ek doosre ki baahon mein, pur sukoon, bekhauf. Aur bahir, aasmaan par, chand ne un par apni roshni daali — naram, thandi, mohabbat bhari.

Agle din ammi abba aaye — aur un ke saath aayi woh khushi jo sirf apnon ke aane par hoti hai. Ammi ne ghar ko dekha — saja hua, roshan — aur un ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye. “Mere bachchon ne ghar sambhal liya,” unhon ne kaha.

Abba ne chaaron ko dekha — Babar, Nasim, Zainab, Naveed — aur unhon ne kaha, “mujhe tum chaaron par fakhr hai.”

Aur phir shuru hui shaadi ki tayyariyan — wohi tayyariyan, jo us kahani ka hissa ban gayin jo aap parh chuke hain. Par us hafte ki yaadein — woh Sea View ki shaam, woh software house ka jashn, woh NGO ka interview, woh kamre ki khaamosh raat — woh sab Nasim aur Babar ke dilon mein hamesha ke liye bas gayin.

Kyunke mohabbat sirf bare lamhon mein nahi hoti — woh chhoti chhoti khushiyon mein hoti hai. Ek saath pi hui chai mein, ek saath dekhe hue chand mein, ek saath jeeye hue har pal mein.

Aur un ka har pal — ab se — ek saath tha.

Shaadi ke do maah baad, ek din Nasim ki college ki dost Saima milne aayi — wohi Saima, jo Nasim ki har khushi gham mein saath rahi thi, jo Imran wale waqiye mein us ke saath royi thi. Saima ne shaadi mein to shirkat ki thi, par us din itna shor tha ke dono ko baat karne ka mauqa nahi mila tha. Aaj woh khaas taur par aayi thi — “tumse dil ki baat karni hai,” us ne phone par kaha tha.

Nasim ne use drawing room mein bithaya, chai banayi, aur dono der tak idhar udhar ki baatein karti rahin — college ke din, purani doston ki khabrein, Saima ke bachche. Phir Saima ne chai ka cup neeche rakha, Nasim ki aankhon mein dekha, aur kaha, “ab batao — sach batao. Tum khush ho?”

Nasim ne muskurate hue kaha, “tumhe kya lagta hai?”

“Mujhe lagta hai ke tum pehle se kahin zyada roshan lag rahi ho,” Saima ne kaha. “Par Nasim —” woh ruki, “— log baatein kar rahe hain. Tum jaanti ho na?”

Nasim ne gehri saans li. “Jaanti hoon.”

“Kya kehte hain?” Saima ne poocha, dheere se.

“Wohi jo hamesha kehte hain,” Nasim ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein koi talkhi nahi thi, sirf sukoon tha. “Ke ye ajeeb hai, ke ye theek nahi, ke hum ne ghalat kiya. Kuch kehte hain ke main majboor thi, kuch kehte hain ke Babar ne mujhe phansaya. Har kisi ki apni kahani hai.”

“Aur tumhe bura nahi lagta?” Saima ne poocha.

“Pehle lagta tha,” Nasim ne kaha. “Imran ke waqt, jab log kehte thay ke mujh mein kami hai, to main roti thi. Par ab —” us ne khirrki se bahir dekha, jahan Babar aur Naveed gaari saaf kar rahe thay, hanste hue, “— ab main jaanti hoon ke logon ka kaam hai kehna. Un ki baaton se meri zindagi nahi badalti, Saima. Meri zindagi meri hai.”

Saima ne use dekha — ghaur se — aur phir us ne kaha, “tum badal gayi ho, Nasim.”

“Achhe ke liye?” Nasim ne poocha, muskurate hue.

“Bahut achhe ke liye,” Saima ne kaha, aur us ne Nasim ka haath thaama. “Tumhe pata hai, jab Imran wala waqiya hua tha to main darti thi ke tum kabhi khush nahi ho paogi. Tum ne apne gird itni unchi deewar khari kar li thi. Par aaj — aaj tumhe dekh kar lagta hai ke woh deewar gir gayi hai. Aur us ke peeche — us ke peeche wohi purani Nasim hai, jo hansti thi, jo sapne dekhti thi.”

Nasim ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye. “Saima —”

“Sunona,” Saima ne kaha, “main tumse ek baat poochna chahti hoon — aur sach batana. Kya Babar ne tum par kabhi dabaav daala? Kya tum ne ye faisla apni marzi se kiya?”

Nasim ne us ki aankhon mein dekha — seedha, baghair jhijhak ke. “Saima, main ne apni zindagi mein pehli dafa poori tarah apni marzi se faisla kiya hai. Babar ne teen saal tak mujhse kuch nahi kaha — teen saal! Woh chup raha, intezaar karta raha, kyunke woh chahta tha ke main khud faisla karun. Aur jab main ne faisla kiya, to us ne mujhse poocha — teen dafa poocha — ke kya main yaqeen se keh rahi hoon. Ye koi dabaav nahi tha, Saima. Ye mohabbat thi — sab se paak mohabbat.”

Saima kuch der khaamosh rahi, phir us ne Nasim ko gale laga liya. “To phir mujhe aur kuch nahi kehna,” us ne kaha. “Bas itna — ke tum khush raho. Aur jo log baatein karte hain, unhe karne do. Waqt sab ko chup kara deta hai.”

“Shukriya,” Nasim ne kaha. “Tum samajhti ho — is liye tum meri sab se achhi dost ho.”

Us shaam, jab Saima chali gayi to Nasim ne Babar ko sab bataya. Babar ne suna, phir us ne kaha, “log kahenge, Nasim. Hamesha kahenge.”

“Main jaanti hoon,” Nasim ne kaha. “Par ab mujhe farq nahi parta. Kyunke main jaanti hoon ke sach kya hai. Aur sach ye hai ke tum ne mujhe kabhi dukh nahi diya — tum ne mujhe sirf khushi di hai.”

Babar ne use apni baahon mein liya. “Aur tum ne mujhe meri zindagi di hai,” us ne kaha.

Us raat, chhat par, chaaron phir jama hue — apni maheene ki riwaaj wali chaand raat par. Mom battiyan jalin, chai bani, aur baatein huin — Saima ki, logon ki, duniya ki. Zainab ne kaha, “logon ko chhoro, api. Hum jaante hain ke sach kya hai — aur yehi kaafi hai.”

Naveed ne kaha, “aur waise bhi, jo log baatein karte hain, woh khud apni zindagi mein khush nahi hote. Khush log doosron ki khushi mein khush hote hain.”

Ammi ne, jo neeche se chai lekar aayi thin, kaha, “beta, tum ne sahi kaha. Aur ek baat yaad rakhna — jab niyat saaf ho, to Allah raaste khud bana deta hai.”

Sab ne chand ko dekha — jo aaj phir poora tha, roshan tha, un par meherbaan tha. Aur Nasim ne socha — ek saal pehle, is chand ne usay us ka pyaar diya tha. Aaj, ye chand us ki khushi ka gawah tha. Aur kal — kal ye chand us ke bachchon ko dekhega, jo is chhat par khelenge, is “chand ka ghar” mein.

Zindagi chalti rahi — din maheenon mein, maheene saalon mein badalte rahe. Babar ka software house bara hua, Nasim ki taraqqi hui, Zainab ne apne NGO mein ek naya project shuru kiya, Naveed ne ek larki se mangni ki — haan, aakhir usay bhi koi mil gayi thi. Ammi abba budhe hue, par khush thay. Aur woh ghar — woh corner wala ghar, DHA Phase 5 mein — aabaad raha, khush raha.

Aur har saal, October mein, jab bijli jaati — kyunke Karachi mein bijli to jaati hi hai — to Babar aur Nasim chhat par jaate, mom battiyan jalate, aur us raat ko yaad karte jab sab kuch shuru hua tha. Woh raat jab bijli gayi thi, chand nikla tha, aur ek unsent email ne do dilon ko mila diya tha.

Kyunke kuch raatein aam nahi hotin. Kuch raatein zindagi badal deti hain. Aur kuch ghar — jaise ye “chand ka ghar” — sirf eenton aur patharon se nahi bante. Woh mohabbat se bante hain, sabar se bante hain, aur un duaon se bante hain jo chandni raaton mein maangi jaati hain.

Ye kahani yahin khatam hoti hai — par un ki zindagi jaari hai. Kahin, DHA ki ek gali mein, ek corner wale ghar ki chhat par, aaj bhi chand nikalta hai — aur do dil, jo ab ek hain, usay dekh kar muskurate hain.

Chand ka ghar — hamesha aabaad rahe.

July ki ek raat — shaadi ke chaar maah baad — baarish ho rahi thi. Tez baarish, October wali nahi, July wali — ghan garaj ke saath, bijli chamak ke saath. Aur bijli — K-Electric ki bijli — gayi hui thi. Generator chal raha tha, par Babar ne use band kar diya tha. “Aaj humein bijli nahi chahiye,” us ne kaha tha.

Nasim ne use hairat se dekha tha. “Kyun?”

“Kyunke aaj main tumhe ek jagah le jaana chahta hoon,” Babar ne kaha tha, aur us ki aankhon mein wohi sharaarat thi.

Woh use chhat par le gaya tha — baarish mein. Nasim ne pehle inkaar kiya tha — “bheeg jaayenge, bemaar ho jaayenge” — par Babar ne us ka haath pakra tha, aur woh chal di thi. Chhat par, baarish tez baras rahi thi, aur dono pal bhar mein bheeg gaye thay.

“Babar, tum pagal ho gaye ho!” Nasim ne kaha tha, hanste hue, baarish mein.

“Haan,” Babar ne kaha tha, “tumhare liye.”

Dono chhat ke beech mein khare thay, baarish mein bheegte hue, aur Babar ne Nasim ko dekha — us ke bheegay hue baal, us ka chamakta hua chehra, us ki khushi se bhari aankhein — aur us ne kaha, “tumhe pata hai, main ne woh email kis raat likha tha?”

Nasim ne sar hilaya — usay nahi pata tha.

“Aisi hi ek raat thi,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein dard aur khushi dono thay. “Baarish ho rahi thi, bijli gayi hui thi. Aur tum — tum isi chhat par thi, akeli, baarish mein, ro rahi thi. Imran wale waqiye ke baad.”

Nasim ki hansi ruk gayi. Us ne Babar ki aankhon mein dekha. “Tum ne mujhe dekha tha?”

“Haan,” Babar ne kaha. “Khirrki se. Main tumhare paas aana chahta tha — tumhe gale lagana chahta tha — par main jaanta tha ke tum akele rona chahti thi. To main neeche gaya, apna laptop khola, aur —” us ki aawaaz bhar aayi, “— aur main ne tumhe woh khat likha.”

Nasim khaamosh khari rahi, baarish mein, Babar ko dekhte hue. Baarish ke qatre us ke chehre par beh rahe thay — ya aansu thay, pata nahi chal raha tha.

“Us raat,” Babar ne kaha, “main ne khuda se ek dua maangi thi. Main ne kaha tha — Ya Allah, mujhe ek din de, jab main Nasim ke saath is baarish mein khara ho sakun — na rote hue, na akela, bas us ke saath. Aur dekho —” us ne apne haath phelaaye, “— aaj woh din hai.”

Nasim ne ek qadam aage barhaya, aur Babar ko gale laga liya — zor se, baarish mein. “Tumhe mil gaya,” us ne kaha, rote hue, hanste hue. “Tumhara din aa gaya, Babar.”

Dono der tak aise hi khare rahe — baarish mein, ek doosre ki baahon mein. Bijli chamki, baadal garje, par unhe koi darr nahi tha. Kyunke ab woh akelay nahi thay — woh saath thay, hamesha ke liye.

“Babar,” Nasim ne dheere se kaha, us ke seenay par sar rakhe, “us raat jab tum ne mujhe rote hue dekha tha — tumhe kaisa laga tha?”

“Jaise mera dil nikal kar tumhare paas chala gaya ho,” Babar ne kaha. “Jaise main adhura reh gaya hoon.”

“Aur aaj?” Nasim ne poocha.

“Aaj,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ne us ke chehre ko apne haathon mein liya, “aaj main poora hoon. Tum mere saath ho — baarish mein, chandni mein, har mausam mein.”

Us ne use chuma — baarish mein, bheegte hue — aur us bose mein woh saari baatein thin jo kabhi kahi nahi gayin thin, aur woh saari baatein thin jo ab kehne ki zaroorat nahi thi. Nasim ne use apne se lagaya, aur dono baarish mein naachte rahe — dheere dheere, ek doosre ki baahon mein, jaise duniya mein koi aur na ho.

Neeche se Zainab ki aawaaz aayi — “api! Babar bhai! Bheeg jaoge! Andar aao!” — par dono ne suna nahi, ya sun kar bhi andekha kar diya. Ye un ka lamha tha — un ki baarish, un ki raat, un ki kahani.

Jab baarish thami, to dono neeche utre — bheegay hue, kaanpte hue, par khush. Ammi ne unhe dekha to pehle ghabra gayin — “bemaar ho jaoge!” — phir hanseen — “jaise bachche ho.” Abba ne sar hilaya — “mohabbat mein sab jaayez hai,” unhon ne kaha, aur sab hans pare.

Nasim ne garam chai banayi, aur sab ne pi — Babar, Nasim, Zainab, Naveed, ammi, abba. Poora khaandaan, ek saath, baarish ki raat mein. Aur Nasim ne socha — us raat, jab woh akeli baarish mein ro rahi thi, to us ne kabhi socha nahi tha ke ek din woh isi baarish mein hansegi — apne shauhar ki baahon mein, apne ghar walon ke saath.

Zindagi kitni ajeeb hai — kitni khubsurat. Woh dard jo kabhi khatam nahi hone wala lagta tha, woh khushi mein badal gaya. Woh raat jo kabhi subah nahi hone wali lagti thi, woh sab se roshan subah laayi.

Us raat, jab sab so gaye, to Babar ne apna laptop khola — pehli dafa maheenon mein, drafts folder dekha. Khaali tha. Us ne muskurate hue laptop band kar diya, aur Nasim ki taraf dekha, jo so rahi thi — pur sukoon, us ke paas.

Us ne dheere se kaha — itna dheere ke sirf woh sun sake — “koi unsent baat nahi rahi.”

Aur bahir, baarish ruk gayi thi, baadal chhat gaye thay, aur chand nikal aaya tha — nahaaya hua, roshan, un par muskurata hua.

Chand ka ghar — baarish mein bhi, dhoop mein bhi, har mausam mein aabaad.

Baarish wali raat ke agle din, Sunday ki subah, ghar mein ek ajeeb sa sukoon tha — woh sukoon jo baarish ke baad aata hai, jab hawa saaf hoti hai aur har cheez dhuli hui lagti hai. Nasim kitchen mein nashta bana rahi thi — halwa poori, Babar ki farmaaish par — aur gunguna rahi thi. Pehli dafa barson mein, woh gunguna rahi thi.

Babar aaya, us ke peeche khara hua, aur us ke kandhe par apni thodi rakhi. “Kya paka rahi ho, begum sahiba?”

“Halwa poori,” Nasim ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Tumhari pasand.”

“Meri pasand to tum ho,” Babar ne kaha, aur Nasim ne use kohni maari — “hato, kaam karne do” — par woh muskura rahi thi.

Nashte par, Naveed ne ek khabar sunayi — us ki aankhon mein wohi purani chamak thi. “Bhai, api — hum ne apne software house ke pehle product ka naam rakha hai.”

“Kya rakha hai?” Zainab ne poocha, munh mein poori daale hue.

“‘Chand,'” Naveed ne kaha, fakhr se. “Chand Software Solutions ka pehla product — ‘Chand.'”

Teenon ne use dekha — phir ek doosre ko — aur phir sab hans pare. “Chand?” Nasim ne kaha, us ki aankhon mein aansu thay. “Kyun?”

“Kyunke,” Naveed ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz mein woh sanjeedgi thi jo kabhi kabhi aati thi, “chand ne hamari zindagi badli hai. Us raat, jab bijli gayi thi — agar chand na nikalta, agar woh email na milta — to aaj hum yahan na hote. To main ne socha — kyun na apni kaamyaabi ka naam hi us ke naam par rakh dun.”

Babar ne uth kar Naveed ko gale laga liya. “Mere bhai,” us ne kaha, aur us ki aawaaz bhar aayi thi.

Zainab ne taali bajayi. “To phir to party banti hai! Aaj raat — chhat par — ‘Chand’ ki kaamyaabi ka jashn!”

“Aur bijli jayegi?” Naveed ne poocha, hanste hue.

“Bijli jaye ya na jaye,” Nasim ne kaha, “chand to aayega. Woh hamesha aata hai.”

Us raat, chhat par, phir jashn hua — mom battiyan, chai, mithaas. Bijli thi, par unhon ne phir bujha di — riwaaj tha. Aur chand — wohi chand — aaya, poora, roshan, un par meherbaan.

Babar ne Nasim ka haath thaama, aur dheere se kaha — itna dheere ke sirf woh sun sake — “tum khush ho?”

Nasim ne us ki aankhon mein dekha, aur kaha — wohi alfaaz, jo us ne us raat kahe thay, par aaj aur gehre — “main poori hoon, Babar. Tumhare saath, main poori hoon.”

Aur chand ne unhe dekha, aur muskuraya — jaise woh hamesha muskurata tha, us “chand ka ghar” par, jahan mohabbat rehti thi.

Jashn khatam hua, sab neeche utar gaye — par Babar aur Nasim ruk gaye. Woh aksar ruk jaate thay — chand ke saath kuch pal akele guzaarne ke liye. Aaj bhi wohi hua.

Nasim ne Babar ke kandhe par sar rakha, aur dono ne chand ko dekha. Kuch der khaamoshi rahi — woh khaamoshi jo sirf un dono ke beech thi, jo alfaaz se zyada kehti thi.

“Babar,” Nasim ne dheere se kaha, “tumhe pata hai, main kabhi kabhi sochti hoon — agar us raat bijli na jaati to kya hota?”

“To koi aur raat aati,” Babar ne kaha, baghair hichkichahat ke. “Kyunke jo hona hota hai, woh ho kar rehta hai, Nasim. Hum milne hi thay — bijli jaaye ya na jaye.”

“Tumhe itna yaqeen hai?” Nasim ne poocha, muskurate hue.

“Mujhe tum par yaqeen hai,” Babar ne kaha, aur us ne us ke maathe par bosa diya. “Aur mujhe hum par yaqeen hai.”

Nasim ne us ka haath thaama — mazbooti se, jaise woh use kabhi chhorna nahi chahti thi. “Babar, ek wada karo.”

“Kaho.”

“Wada karo ke hum kabhi is chhat ko nahi bhoolenge. Is chand ko nahi bhoolenge. Us raat ko nahi bhoolenge — jab sab kuch shuru hua tha.”

Babar ne us ki aankhon mein dekha — un aankhon mein jo ab darr se khaali thin, jo sirf mohabbat se bhari thin — aur us ne kaha, “wada. Hum har saal, us raat ko, yahin aayenge — isi chhat par, isi chand ke neeche. Aur hum apne bachchon ko ye kahani sunaayenge — ek bijli ki raat ki kahani, ek unsent email ki kahani, ek chand ki kahani.”

“Hamare chand ki kahani,” Nasim ne kaha.

“Hamare ghar ki kahani,” Babar ne kaha. “Chand ka ghar.”

Dono ne ek doosre ko dekha, aur phir unhon ne chand ko dekha — jo un par apni roshni baras raha tha, jaise aashirwaad de raha ho. Hawa chali, neem ke patte sarsaraaye, aur mom battiyon ki lau — jo ab bujh chuki thi — ka dhuaan chandni mein ghul gaya.

Neeche, ghar mein, zindagi thi — ammi ki duaen, abba ki naseehatein, Zainab ki hansi, Naveed ke mansoobay. Aur upar, chhat par, mohabbat thi — khaamosh, gehri, hamesha rehne wali.

Nasim ne apni aankhein band kar lin, aur Babar ki baahon mein, us ne socha — yehi to jannat hai. Na bijli ki roshni mein, na duniya ki bheer mein — bas is chandni mein, is khaamoshi mein, is shakhs ki baahon mein jo use duniya mein sab se zyada chahta hai.

Aur Babar ne socha — teen saal ka intezaar, woh unsent email, woh khaamosh raatein — sab is ek lamhe ke liye thay. Aur ye lamha — ye lamha hamesha rahega. Kyunke kuch lamhe waqt se bare hote hain. Kuch mohabbatein zindagi se bari hoti hain.

Chand ne apni aakhri kiran bheji, aur phir badalon ke peeche chhup gaya — par us ki roshni un ke dilon mein reh gayi. Hamesha ke liye.

Chand ka ghar — mohabbat ka ghar — hamesha aabaad rahe.

Aur aaj, jab ye kahani likhi ja rahi hai, to woh ghar ab bhi wahin hai — DHA Phase 5 ki us gali mein, wohi corner wala ghar, neem ke darakht ke saaye mein. Bijli ab bhi jaati hai — Karachi hai, jayegi hi — par ab koi ghabrata nahi. Balke, jab bijli jaati hai to ghar wale muskurate hain, mom battiyan nikaalte hain, aur chhat par chale jaate hain. Kyunke unhe pata hai — andhere mein hi roshni milti hai.

Zainab ab bhi kehti hai — “hum is gali ke chaand hain” — aur Naveed ab bhi hansta hai. Ammi ab bhi duaen deti hain, abba ab bhi naseehatein karte hain. Aur Babar aur Nasim — woh ab bhi har chaand raat ko chhat par jaate hain, haath mein haath daale, aur us raat ko yaad karte hain jab ek unsent email ne unhe mila diya tha.

Kyunke kuch kahaaniyan khatam nahi hotin — woh jee jaati hain. Aur ye kahani — “Chand Ka Ghar” — ab un ke ghar ki kahani hai, un ke dilon ki kahani hai, aur har us shakhs ki kahani hai jo mohabbat mein sabar karta hai, jo intezaar karta hai, jo haar nahi maanta.

Chand aaj bhi nikalta hai — un ke ghar par, un ke chhat par, un ke dilon par. Aur jab tak chand nikalta rahega, tab tak ye ghar aabaad rahega.

Chand ka ghar — hamesha, hamesha aabaad rahe.

Ye thi ek aisi mohabbat ki dastaan jo andhere mein shuru hui aur chandni mein mukammal hui — jahan ek bhai ne apni behan ka teen saal intezaar kiya, jahan ek unsent email ne do dilon ko jor diya, aur jahan Karachi ki ek aam si raat hamesha ke liye khaas ban gayi.

Mohabbat jeet gayi thi — hamesha ki tarah.