“—to aap maan kyun nahi letin ke aap mujh se bhaag rahi hain?”
Junaid ki awaaz drawing room ke andheray mein goonji, mombatti ki kaanpti lau ke us paar se. Samina, jo darwaze ki taraf badh rahi thi, ek dam ruk gayi. Us ka haath abhi tak dupatte ke kinare par tha, jaise woh use aur mazbooti se kandhon par lapetna chahti ho — jaise dupatta usay is sawaal se bacha sakta ho.
“Mein kisi se nahi bhaag rahi,” us ne kaha, muday baghair. Us ki awaaz mein woh sakhti thi jo aurat tab ikhtiyar karti hai jab us ke andar kuch tootne wala ho. “Aur tum apne kamre mein jao, Junaid. Raat bohat ho gayi hai.”
“Raat to abhi shuru hui hai, bhabhi.” Junaid mez ke paas betha raha, mombatti us ke chehre ke neeche se roshni daal rahi thi, us ki aankhein chamak rahi theen. “Bijli gayi hui hai, baahar toofan hai, aur aap kehti hain mein upar ja kar andheray kamre mein akela beth jaaun? Yeh koi insaaf hai?”
“Toofan roz aate hain,” Samina ne kaha, ab mud kar us ki taraf dekha. Mombatti ki roshni mein us ka chehra — battis saal ki umr, gehri aankhein, thaki hui khoobsurti — kuch aur hi lag raha tha. “Aur tum bache nahi ho. Chobis saal ke ho gaye ho.”
“To phir bache jaisa sulook kyun kar rahi hain?” Junaid uth khada hua, lekin us ke lehje mein ghussa nahi tha — ek shokhi thi, ek zidd thi, woh zidd jo sirf us waqt aati hai jab dil mein koi baat pakki ho chuki ho. “Dekhein, bhabhi, mein seedhi baat karta hoon. Jab se mein ghar aaya hoon, aap mujh se nazrein chura rahi hain. Chae di, khana diya, lekin baat nahi ki. Kya mein ne kuch ghalat kiya hai?”
Samina ne gehri saans li. “Tum ne kuch nahi kiya. Bas… munasib nahi lagta. Tumhare bhai ghar par nahi hain, aur hum dono—” Woh ruk gayi.
“Hum dono kya?” Junaid ne ek qadam aagay badhaya. “Hum dono ek hi ghar ke hain, bhabhi. Bhai Dubai mein hain, chaar saal se. Kya is ka matlab yeh hai ke is ghar mein koi kisi se baat bhi nahi kar sakta?”
“Matlab yeh hai ke had hoti hai har cheez ki,” Samina ki awaaz unchi ho gayi. “Tum samajhte kyun nahi? Mein tumhare bhai ki biwi hoon. Log kya kahenge agar—”
“Agar kya?” Junaid ne us ki baat kaati, lekin pyaar se, jaise koi dost kisi dost ki baat kaate. “Agar devar bhabhi se do ghadi beth kar baat kar le to qiyamat aa jayegi? Bhabhi, yeh dar aap ke dil mein hai ya mohallay ki zubaanon mein?”
Samina khamosh ho gayi. Baahar bijli kadki, aur us ki chamak khidki se andar aayi, ek pal ke liye dono ke chehre roshan kar gayi. Us ek pal mein Junaid ne dekha — us ki bhabhi ki aankhon mein aansu nahi the, lekin us se bhi gehra kuch tha: ek larai, jo woh apne aap se lad rahi thi.
“Dekho, Junaid,” Samina ne aahista se kaha, us ki awaaz ab naram thi, thaki hui. “Tum nahi samjhoge. Tum jawan ho, tumhein duniya aasaan lagti hai. Lekin aurat ke liye… aurat ke liye har qadam phoonk phoonk kar uthana padta hai. Tumhare bhai ne mujh par bharosa kiya hai. Woh wahan din raat mehnat karte hain, aur mein yahan… mein yahan un ki amanat hoon. Samjhe tum? Amanat.”
Junaid ne use dekha, der tak dekha. Phir us ne woh kaha jo us ke dil mein shaam se tha: “Amanat to dil bhi hai, bhabhi. Aur dil amanat mein khayanat nahi karta — woh sirf dhadakta hai. Aur aap ka dil…” Woh ruka, phir aahista se bola, “aap ka dil bohat arsay se khamosh hai. Mein ne dekha hai.”
Samina ka chehra safed pad gaya. “Tumhein koi haq nahi—” us ne shuru kiya, lekin alfaaz adhooray reh gaye.
“Mujhe har haq hai,” Junaid ne kaha, aur ab us ki awaaz mein minnat thi, woh minnat jo sirf sachcha pyaar kar sakta hai. “Bhabhi nahi — Samina. Aap ka naam Samina hai. Kabhi kisi ne aap ko is naam se pukara hai is ghar mein? Bhai ne? Unhon ne to aap ko ‘begum’ bana kar Dubai bhej diya… matlab, khud Dubai chale gaye.” Woh halka sa muskuraya apni ghalti par, lekin us ki aankhein sanjeeda theen. “Mein aap ko Samina keh kar pukar raha hoon, kyun ke aap sirf kisi ki bhabhi ya kisi ki biwi nahi hain. Aap ek insaan hain. Aur insaan ko jeene ka haq hai.”
“Bas!” Samina ne haath uthaya, jaise woh us ke alfaaz ko hawa mein rokna chahti ho. “Bohat ho gaya. Tum apne kamre mein jao. Abhi.”
Lekin Junaid nahi hila. Us ne mez par rakhi mombatti uthayi aur us ki taraf badhaya. “Yeh lein. Aap ke kamre ke liye. Andheray mein seedhiyan mat chadhiye ga, phisal jayengi.” Us ki awaaz mein fikar thi, khaalis fikar, jis mein koi milawat nahi thi.
Samina ne mombatti li. Un ki ungliyan ek pal ke liye mili — sirf ek pal, lekin us ek pal mein dono ne mehsoos kiya ke kuch badal gaya hai. Samina ne jaldi se haath kheench liya, jaise us ne aag chhu li ho.
“Shab bakhair,” us ne kaha, aur tezi se seedhiyon ki taraf chal padi.
“Shab bakhair, Samina,” Junaid ne us ke peechay se kaha.
Seedhiyon par chadhte hue Samina ke qadam ladkhadaye. Us ne diwaar ka sahara liya. Us ka dil itni zor se dhadak raha tha ke use laga baahar barish ki awaaz bhi us mein doob jayegi. Us ne apne kamre ka darwaza khola, andar gayi, darwaza band kiya — lekin kunddi nahi lagayi. Aur yeh baat us ne khud bhi mehsoos ki, aur is ehsaas ne use aur dara diya.
Kamre mein andhera tha. Us ne mombatti jalayi aur use mez par rakha. Phir us ki nazar almari ke upar pade us purane lakri ke sandooq par padi — woh sandooq jise us ne shaadi ke baad se kabhi nahi khola tha, lekin jis ki chaabi hamesha us ke paas rehti thi, bistar ke neeche ek purane rumal mein lipTi hui.
“Tum nahi samjhoge, Junaid,” us ne aahista se kaha, khud se, sandooq se, ya shayad us khat se jo us sandooq mein tha — woh khat jo us ne chhe saal pehle likha tha, aur jo kabhi bheja nahi gaya tha. “Tum nahi samjhoge ke mein tum se kyun bhaag rahi hoon.”
Baahar barish zoron par thi. Bijli baar baar kadakti thi. Aur is ghar mein, is andheri raat mein, ek aisi kahani shuru ho chuki thi jis ka pehla bab behas tha, aur jis ka aakhri bab abhi likha jana baaqi tha.
Seedhiyon par chadhte hue Samina ne apne kamre ka darwaza khola to us ke haath abhi tak kaanp rahe the. Us ne mombatti mez par rakhi, khidki kholi — barish ki thandi hawa andar aayi, us ke chehre se takrai. Us ne aankhein band kar leen. Us ke zehen mein Junaid ke alfaaz goonj rahe the: “Aap ka naam Samina hai.”
Kitne saalon se kisi ne use is naam se nahi pukara tha. Khalid kehte the “begum.” Nazia kehti thi “Samina,” lekin us mein woh baat nahi thi. Junaid ne jab kaha tha, to laga tha jaise koi usay neend se jaga raha ho.
Us ne khidki se baahar dekha — gali mein paani beh raha tha, bijli ki chamak mein geeli chaton ka aks. Door kahin Bibi Zahra ke ghar se roshni aa rahi thi — un ke paas generator tha. Samina ne socha — kuch logon ke paas har mushkil ka hal hota hai. Generator, paise, sahare. Aur kuch log — jaise woh — sirf mombatti jalate hain, aur intezaar karte hain ke subah ho.
Neeche drawing room mein Junaid abhi tak betha tha. Us ne mombatti ko dekha — woh pighal rahi thi. Us ne socha — Samina ki tarah. Baahar se mazboot, andar se pighalti hui. Us ne apne aap se kaha: “Mein use pighalne nahi dunga. Mein use sambhalunga.”
Us ne mombatti bujhayi — ungliyon se, aahista, jaise koi dua khatm karta hai. Phir woh andheray mein betha raha, barish ki awaaz sunte hue, Samina ke baare mein sochte hue. Us ke dil mein koi jaldbaazi nahi thi — sirf ek pakka irada tha. Woh jaanta tha ke raasta lamba hai, ke Samina aasaani se nahi maanegi. Lekin woh yeh bhi jaanta tha ke mohabbat mein haar nahi hoti — sirf intezaar hota hai.
Aur us raat, pehli baar, Junaid ne apne dil mein ek dua maangi — na apne liye, Samina ke liye. “Ya Allah,” us ne kaha, andheray mein, “us ke dil ko sukoon de. Chahe woh sukoon mere saath ho ya mere baghair — bas use sukoon de.”
Lekin is behas se pehle ki kahani samajhne ke liye, humein usi din ki shaam mein wapas jana hoga — jab barish abhi shuru hui thi, aur ghar mein abhi bijli thi.
July ka mahina tha, aur Lahore par monsoon apni poori shiddat se utra hua tha. Dopahar se hi aasman par kaale, ghane, bhaari badal chhaye hue the. Hawayein tez chal rahi theen, aur Anarkali ke purane mohallay mein dukaandaar apne saamaan ko tarpalo se dhakne mein masroof the. Shaam ke paanch baje tak barish shuru ho chuki thi — pehle halki phuar, phir boondein, aur phir woh musladhaar barsaat jo Lahore ki garmiyon ko dhone ke liye har saal aati hai.
Isi mohallay ki ek tang gali mein do manzila purana makaan tha — safed deewarein jin par waqt ne apne nishan chhode the, lakri ke darwaze jin par barish ki boondein tik tik kar rahi theen. Is makaan mein rehti theen Samina — umr battis saal. Us ka qadd darmiyana, rang gandumi, aankhein badi aur gehri — aisi aankhein jo dekhne wale ko lagta tha ke woh har baat samajhti hain, chahe kahein ya na kahein. Us ke lambe kaale baal aksar ek dhalili choti mein bandhe rehte, aur us ke chehre par ek thakaan thi jo sirf tanhai deti hai — woh thakaan jo neend se nahi, intezaar se aati hai.
Samina ke shohar Khalid — umr chhattis saal — pichhle chaar saalon se Dubai mein the, ek construction company mein supervisor. Woh saal mein sirf ek baar, Eid par ghar aate, ek mahina rukte, aur wapas chale jate. Paise waqt par bhejte, phone par baat karte — lekin ghar ki deewarein un ki ghair-maujoodgi mehsoos karti theen, aur Samina un se bhi zyada.
Us shaam Samina apne kamre ki khidki ke paas khadi barish dekh rahi thi. Us ne halka neela shalwar kameez pehna hua tha, dupatta kandhon par dala hua. Subah us ne ghar ki safai ki thi, dopahar ko daal chawal pakaye the, aur ab shaam ko barish dekhne ke siwa koi kaam nahi tha. Us ki dost Nazia ka phone aaya tha dopahar ko — “Samina, barish mein pakode bana, mein aa rahi hoon” — lekin phir Nazia ke shohar ko kahin jana pad gaya tha, aur woh nahi aa saki thi. Samina akeli reh gayi thi, barish ke saath.
Tabhi darwaze par dastak hui.
Samina neeche gayi, darwaza khola — aur saamne Junaid khada tha, us ka devar, umr chobis saal, poori tarah bheega hua. Us ke baal geelay ho kar maathe par chipke hue the, shirt jism se chipki hui thi, aur haath mein ek geela thaela tha jis mein kitabein theen. Woh Punjab University mein MA English ka student tha, hafte mein teen din ghar aata tha, baaki din hostel mein rehta tha.
“Bhabhi, darwaza kholne mein itni der?” Junaid ne hanste hue kaha, andar aate hue.
“Barish dekh rahi thi,” Samina ne kaha, thaela lete hue. “Tum to poori tarah bheeg gaye ho. Jaldi se kapde badlo.”
Junaid seedhiyan chadh gaya. Samina ne darwaza band kiya, kunddi lagayi, aur kitchen mein us ke liye adrak wali chae banane lagi. Jab woh patiili mein doodh daal rahi thi, bijli itni zor se kadki ke khidki ke sheeshe kaanp uthe — aur usi lamhe ghar ki saari battiyan bujh gayin. Poora mohalla andheray mein doob gaya.
Samina ne mombatti jalayi. Upar se Junaid ki awaaz aayi: “Bhabhi! Bijli chali gayi?”
“Haan. Tum kapde badal lo, mein chae bana rahi hoon.”
“Mein aa raha hoon neeche!”
Samina ne mombatti ko kitchen ki shelf par rakha. Baahar se mohallay ki aawazein aa rahi theen — Bibi Zahra apne bete ko aawaaz de rahi theen: “Hamza! Andar aa ja, bijli kadak rahi hai!” (Yeh Hamza un ka beta tha — pados ka larka, jo barish mein bheeg raha tha.) Door kahin Chacha Bashir ki dukaan se un ki awaaz aa rahi thi — woh apne naukar ko daant rahe the ke tarpaal theek se nahi baandha.
Samina ne khidki se baahar dekha. Gali mein andhera tha, lekin har ghar se mombatti ya diye ki roshni aa rahi thi — jaise zameen par taare bikhre hon. Us ne socha — kitni ajeeb baat hai. Bijli jaane par shahar ruk nahi jata — bas us ki raftaar badal jati hai. Log mombattiyan jalate hain, baatein karte hain, barish dekhte hain. Shayad bijli ka jana bura nahi hota — shayad woh humein yaad dilata hai ke hum insaan hain, machinein nahi.
Us ne apne ghar ko dekha — andheray mein dooba hua, lekin mombatti ki roshni mein zinda. Us ne socha — mera ghar bhi to aisa hi hai. Baahar se andhera, andar se… andar se kya? Us ne apne dil mein jhanka — wahan bhi andhera tha, lekin kahin door ek chhoti si lau jal rahi thi. Us lau ka naam us ne kabhi nahi liya tha. Lekin aaj raat, us lau ko hawa mil rahi thi.
“Samina bibi!” Bibi Zahra ki awaaz aayi, deewar ke us paar se. “Bijli gayi hui hai, khana kaise banayengi?”
“Gas hai, bibi!” Samina ne jawaab diya, muskurate hue. “Aap fikar na karein!”
“Allah khair kare,” Bibi Zahra ne kaha. “Yeh barish to rukne ka naam nahi le rahi!”
Samina andar aayi. Junaid seedhiyon se utar raha tha — us ne kurta pehna tha, baal geelay the. Us ne Samina ko dekha, aur muskuraya — wohi muskurahat jo us ka dil cheer deti thi.
Aur phir woh shaam guzri — chae ke do cup, Faiz ka sher, Junaid ki baatein, Samina ki khamoshi. Junaid ne us se poocha tha ke use kaisa lagta hai, akeli zindagi guzarte hue. Samina ne kaha tha “mein theek hoon,” lekin us ki awaaz ne us ka saath nahi diya tha. Phir mombatti bujh gayi thi, andheray ke chand lamhon mein dono ne ek doosre ki khamoshi suni thi, aur Samina khana garam karne ke bahane kitchen mein chali gayi thi.
Kitchen mein, mombatti ki roshni mein khana garam karte hue, Samina ki nazar baahar barish par thi — aur dil mein ek toofan tha jo baahar ke toofan se kahin zyada tez tha. Woh soch rahi thi us dopahar ki baat, jab us ne almari ke upar rakha sandooq dekha tha, aur us ka haath be-ikhtiyar us ki taraf badh gaya tha — phir ruk gaya tha.
Us sandooq mein woh khat tha. Woh khat jo us ne chhe saal pehle likha tha, jab Junaid athara saal ka tha aur university jaane ke liye ghar se nikal raha tha. Woh khat jo us ne kabhi kisi ko dikhaya nahi, kabhi bheja nahi, lekin jalaya bhi nahi. Woh khat jo us ki zindagi ka sab se bada raaz tha.
“Samina?” Junaid ki awaaz ne use chaunka diya. Woh kitchen ke darwaze par khada tha, haath mein khaali chae ke cup. “Khana garam ho gaya?”
“Haan,” Samina ne jaldi se kaha, apne khayalon ko samet te hue. “Bethe, mein lagati hoon.”
Khana khate hue dono khamosh the. Lekin khamoshi mein bhi baatein hoti hain — aur is khamoshi mein bohat kuch kaha ja raha tha. Junaid Samina ko dekh raha tha, aur Samina use dekhne se bach rahi thi. Aur phir khane ke baad, jab Samina bartan sametne lagi, Junaid ne kaha: “Bhabhi, bartan rehne dein. Aayein, thodi der bethein. Baahar barish hai, andar andhera hai, aur hum dono jaag rahe hain. Is se achha mauqa phir kab milega?”
Samina ne inkaar karna chaha. Us ne karna chaha tha. Lekin us ke qadam ruk gaye, aur woh wapas drawing room mein aa kar beth gayi. Aur wahin se woh behas shuru hui — woh behas jis se yeh kahani shuru hui thi.
Ab aap jaante hain ke woh behas kahan se aayi thi. Lekin aap abhi nahi jaante ke woh kahan jayegi. Us ke liye, humein usi mombatti ki roshni mein wapas jana hoga — jahan Junaid ab bhi betha tha, aur Samina seedhiyon par chadh chuki thi, apne kamre mein, us sandooq ke saamne, apne raaz ke saamne.
Samina apne kamre mein bethi thi, mombatti ki lau us ke chehre par kaanp rahi thi. Darwaza band tha, lekin kunddi nahi lagi thi — aur yeh chhoti si baat us ke dil mein ek bada sawaal ban kar goonj rahi thi. Us ne kunddi kyun nahi lagayi? Woh hamesha lagati thi. Hamesha.
Us ki nazrein almari ke upar rakhe lakri ke sandooq par theen. Sandooq purana tha, us ki lakri par waqt ke nishan the, aur us ke kone par ek chhota sa taala laga tha — woh taala jis ki chaabi us ke bistar ke neeche, ek purane rumal mein lipTi hui thi. Chhe saal. Chhe saal se us ne us sandooq ko nahi khola tha. Lekin chhe saal se us ne usay dekha bhi roz tha — har subah jab woh kamre ki safai karti, har raat jab woh batti bujha kar letTi, us ki nazar ek baar us sandooq par zaroor padti, jaise woh usay yaad dilata ho ke us ke andar koi zinda cheez dafan hai.
Yeh sandooq us ki ammi ka tha. Samina ko yaad tha — jab woh chhoti thi, us ki ammi is mein apne zewar rakhti theen — ek purani nath, do kangan, ek anguthi. Ammi ke guzarne ke baad, abba ne yeh sandooq Samina ko diya tha — “Tumhari ammi ki nishani hai,” unhon ne kaha tha. “Sambhal kar rakhna.”
Samina ne use sambhal kar rakha tha. Shaadi par woh ise apne saath layi thi. Aur chhe saal pehle, us ne is mein sab se qeemti cheez rakhi thi — apna dil. Woh khat us ke dil ka tukda tha. Aur ammi ka sandooq us dil ki qabr tha.
“Mujhe maaf karna, ammi,” Samina ne aahista se kaha, sandooq ki taraf dekhte hue. “Mein ne aap ke sandooq ko apne gunaah ki jagah bana diya. Aap ne is mein apni khushi rakhi thi — mein ne is mein apna dard rakha.”
Us ki aankhon se aansu behne lage. Us ne unhein ponchha — jaldi se, jaise woh nahi chahti thi ke koi — khud bhi — unhein dekhe.
Us raat, Junaid ke alfaaz us ke kaanon mein goonj rahe the: “Aap ka dil bohat arsay se khamosh hai. Mein ne dekha hai.”
Us ne kaise dekha? Samina ne socha. Us ne apne chehre par itna gehra naqaab daal rakha tha — biwi ka naqaab, bhabhi ka naqaab, zimmedaar aurat ka naqaab. Phir yeh larka, yeh chobis saal ka larka, us ke andar kaise dekh gaya?
Us ne aankhein band kein, aur yaadein aane lageen — woh yaadein jinhein us ne sandooq ke saath hi band karne ki koshish ki thi.
Chhe saal pehle. Junaid athara saal ka tha, abhi abhi intermediate kiya tha, aur Punjab University mein admission mila tha. Ghar mein khushi ka mahaul tha. Khalid us waqt ghar par tha — woh apni aakhri chhutti par aaya hua tha, us ke baad woh Dubai wapas chala gaya tha aur phir kabhi lambi chhutti par nahi aa saka. Us raat khana khaya gaya tha, mithai banti thi, aur Junaid apna bistar baandh raha tha hostel ke liye.
Samina use dekh rahi thi — kaise woh apni kitaabein thaele mein rakh raha tha, kaise us ke chehre par ek nayi duniya ka josh tha. Aur tab, achanak, us ke dil mein ek dard utha tha — aisa dard jo us ne pehle kabhi mehsoos nahi kiya tha. Woh dard mohabbat ka tha. Us ne us raat ko pehli baar samjha tha ke woh apne devar ko sirf devar ki nazar se nahi dekhti. Ke us ki hansi par us ka dil khush hota hai, ke us ki kamyabi par us ki aankhein bhar aati hain, ke us ki ghair-maujoodgi mein ghar soona lagta hai.
Woh raat us ne soyi nahi thi. Subah hone se pehle, us ne kagaz kalam uthaya tha aur woh khat likha tha — woh khat jo us ne kabhi bheja nahi. Us mein us ne sab kuch likh diya tha: apna dard, apni mohabbat, apna gunaah ka ehsaas, aur apna faisla. Faisla yeh tha ke woh is ehsaas ko dafan kar degi. Ke woh Khalid ki biwi hai, aur rahegi. Ke Junaid us ka devar hai, aur rahega. Ke kuch mohabbatein sirf dil mein rehne ke liye hoti hain, zubaan par aane ke liye nahi.
Us ne khat ko teh kiya tha, ek lifafe mein daala tha, aur sandooq mein band kar diya tha. Aur tab se, har baar jab us ka dil kamzor padta, woh sandooq ko dekhti aur yaad karti ke us ne ek faisla kiya tha.
Lekin aaj raat… aaj raat Junaid ne us faisle ki buniyaad hila di thi.
Darwaze par halki si dastak hui.
Samina chaunk gayi. “Kaun?”
“Mein hoon, bhabhi,” Junaid ki awaaz aayi, naram, minnat bhari. “Darwaza kholiye na. Bas ek minute.”
Samina ne dupatta sambhala, uth kar darwaze tak gayi, lekin khola nahi. “Kya hai? Tum soye nahi?”
“Neend nahi aa rahi,” Junaid ne kaha. “Aur… mein aap ke liye doodh garam kar ke laya hoon. Haldi wala. Ammi kehti theen, barish ki raat ko garam doodh peene se sukoon milta hai.”
Samina ka dil pighalne laga, lekin us ne use rokne ki koshish ki. “Tumhein takleef karne ki kya zaroorat thi? Wapas jao, so jao.”
“Bhabhi, darwaza to kholiye,” Junaid ne kaha, aur us ki awaaz mein wohi shokhi thi, wohi zidd. “Doodh thanda ho jayega. Aur phir ammi ki rooh mujhe kosegi ke mein ne un ki bahu ka khayal nahi rakha.”
Samina ke hontoon par be-ikhtiyar ek muskurahat aa gayi — pehli muskurahat, jo us ne aaj raat mein mehsoos ki thi. Us ne darwaza khola, lekin sirf itna ke doodh ka glass le sake.
Junaid wahan khada tha, haath mein doodh ka glass, mombatti ki roshni us ke peechay se aa rahi thi. Us ne glass aagay badhaya. “Lein.”
Samina ne glass liya. Un ki ungliyan phir mili — is baar Samina ne haath nahi kheenche, lekin us ne nazrein jhuka leen.
“Junaid,” us ne aahista se kaha, “tum jo kar rahe ho… yeh theek nahi hai.”
“Mein kya kar raha hoon?” Junaid ne masoomiyat se poocha. “Doodh pila raha hoon apni bhabhi ko. Is mein kya ghalat hai?”
“Tum jaante ho mein kis baat ki baat kar rahi hoon,” Samina ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein ab dard tha. “Woh baatein jo tum ne neeche kein… woh alfaaz… tumhein nahi kehne chahiye the.”
“Kyun?” Junaid ne poocha, seedha. “Kya woh jhoot the? Kya aap ka dil khamosh nahi hai? Kya aap khush hain?”
Samina ne glass ko mazbooti se pakda. “Khushi… khushi har kisi ke naseeb mein nahi hoti, Junaid. Kuch logon ke naseeb mein zimmedaari hoti hai. Mein ne apni qismat ko qubool kar liya hai. Tum bhi kar lo.”
“Mein ne kabhi kaha ke mein aap ki qismat badalna chahta hoon?” Junaid ne kaha. “Mein sirf itna chahta hoon ke aap apne dil ko itna mat dabayein ke woh dhadakna hi bhool jaye. Bas.”
Woh muda aur jaane laga. Phir ruka, mud kar dekha. “Aur bhabhi… woh behas jo hum ne ki thi… us ke liye maafi chahta hoon. Agar mere alfaaz ne aap ko dukh diya ho. Lekin jo mein ne kaha, woh mere dil se nikla tha. Us ke liye maafi nahi maangunga.”
Woh chala gaya. Samina darwaze par khadi rahi, haath mein garam doodh ka glass, dil mein ek aag. Us ne doodh piya — haldi ki talkhi us ke galay mein utri, lekin us ke dil ko sukoon nahi mila.
Us ne darwaza band kiya. Is baar us ne kunddi lagayi — mazbooti se, jaise woh kunddi darwaze par nahi, apne dil par laga rahi ho.
Lekin jab woh bistar par leti, mombatti bujha kar, andheray mein, us ne mehsoos kiya ke kunddi lagane se kuch nahi hota. Dil ke darwaze par kunddi nahi lagti. Aur us ka dil… us ka dil aaj raat khul chuka tha, chahe woh maane ya na maane.
Baahar barish jaari thi. Aur Samina ki aankhon se bhi barish behne lagi — khamosh, be-aawaaz, takiye mein jazb hoti hui.
Subah Samina ki aankh khuli to barish abhi bhi ho rahi thi — halki, musalsal, jaise aasman ne rona band karne ka faisla hi nahi kiya tha. Bijli abhi tak nahi aayi thi. Kamre mein halki roshni thi, khidki se aa rahi thi. Mombatti bujh chuki thi, us ka dhuaan abhi tak hawa mein tha.
Samina uthi, wuzu kiya, namaz padhi. Namaz mein us ne Allah se maafi maangi — kis baat ki, yeh woh khud bhi theek se nahi jaanti thi. Shayad un khayalon ki, jo raat bhar us ke dil mein aate rahe the. Shayad us kamzori ki, jo us ne Junaid ke saamne mehsoos ki thi.
Neeche aayi to ek ajeeb si khushbu aa rahi thi — jalne ki khushbu.
Samina tez qadam kitchen ki taraf badhi. Wahan ka manzar dekh kar woh dang reh gayi. Junaid chulhe ke paas khada tha, haath mein chimta, tawa par ek kaala paratha — poori tarah jala hua. Us ke chehre par aata laga hua tha, baal bikhre hue the, aur woh parathe ko palatne ki naakaam koshish kar raha tha.
“Tum… tum kya kar rahe ho?” Samina ne hairat se poocha.
Junaid muda, aur us ke chehre par woh muskurahat thi jo Samina ka dil cheer deti thi. “Nashta bana raha hoon. Aap ke liye.” Us ne jale hue parathe ko plate mein rakha, jahan pehle se do aur jale hue parathe pade the. “Dekhein, pehla thoda jal gaya, doosra bhi thoda jal gaya, teesra…” Us ne teesre ko dekha, “theek hai, teesra bhi jal gaya. Lekin jazbaat dekhein — jazbaat pure hain.”
Samina ke hontoon par muskurahat aa gayi — is baar us ne use rokne ki koshish nahi ki. “Tum ne kabhi kitchen mein qadam rakha hai?”
“Aaj pehli baar,” Junaid ne fakhr se kaha. “Aur dekhiye, kitni taraqqi ki hai. Kal tak mujhe nahi pata tha ke aata goondha kaise jata hai. Aaj mujhe pata hai ke aata goondhne ke baad haath dhone padte hain.” Us ne apne aate se bhare haath dikhaye.
Samina hans padi — khul kar, dil se, aisi hansi jo us ne mahinon se nahi hansi thi. “Tum pagal ho.”
“Pagal to hoon,” Junaid ne kaha, us ki taraf dekhte hue, aur us ki awaaz mein mazaak ke saath kuch aur bhi tha. “Lekin aap ki hansi sun kar lagta hai ke pagalpan ka koi faida bhi hai.”
Samina ki hansi ruk gayi, lekin muskurahat reh gayi. “Jao, haath dho lo. Mein nashta banati hoon.”
“Nahi,” Junaid ne zidd ki. “Aaj nashta mein banaunga. Aap bethein. Bas mujhe batati jayein ke kya karna hai.”
“Aur yeh jale hue parathe?”
“Yeh…” Junaid ne unhein dekha, phir uthaya aur khidki se baahar phenk diya. “Yeh parindon ke liye. Unhein bhi to nashta chahiye.”
Samina bethe gayi, aur Junaid ko hidayat dene lagi. Aadhe ghante mein, kitchen mein do tawa parathe (thoda tedhe, lekin khane layak), omelette, aur chae tayyar thi. Dono ne mil kar nashta kiya — bijli nahi thi, lekin subah ki roshni kaafi thi.
“Waise,” Junaid ne chae ka ghoont lete hue kaha, “raat ko aap ne doodh piya tha?”
Samina ne sar hila diya. “Piya tha.”
“Aur neend aayi?”
“Thodi der ke liye.”
“Jhoot,” Junaid ne muskurate hue kaha. “Aap ki aankhein bata rahi hain ke aap raat bhar soyi nahi. Bhabhi, aap itna kyun sochti hain?”
Samina ne chae ka cup neeche rakha. “Junaid, tum kabhi bade nahi hoge kya?”
“Kyuni hon?” Junaid ne kandhe uchkaye. “Bade ho kar kya milta hai? Zimmedaariyan, fikrein, tanhai… Dekhein na bhai ko — bade hue, zimmedaar hue, aur ab Dubai mein akele hain. Mein aisa bada nahi hona chahta.”
“Tumhare bhai ne qurbani di hai,” Samina ki awaaz mein sakhti aa gayi. “Un ki wajah se tum university mein padh rahe ho. Un ki wajah se is ghar ka chulha jalta hai.”
“Mein janta hoon,” Junaid ne kaha, us ki shokhi ek pal ke liye gayab ho gayi. “Aur mein un ka ehsaan kabhi nahi bhoolunga. Lekin bhabhi…” Woh ruka, phir aahista se bola, “kya qurbani ka matlab yeh hai ke jeena chhod diya jaye? Bhai ne paise ke liye apni zindagi qurban ki. Aap ne wafa ke liye apni khushi qurban kar di. Aur mein… mein dekh raha hoon ke is ghar mein sab qurban ho rahe hain, lekin khush koi nahi hai.”
Samina khamosh ho gayi. Us ke paas is baat ka jawaab nahi tha.
Tabhi darwaze par dastak hui. Samina ne ja kar khola — saamne Nazia khadi thi, haath mein ek thaela, poori tarah bheegi hui, lekin hansti hui.
“Samina! Mein ne kaha tha na, barish mein pakode banaungi aur aaungi!” Nazia andar aayi, thaela mez par rakha. “Dekh, besan, aalu, pyaaz — sab le aayi. Aur bijli gayi hui hai to kya hua, gas to hai.”
Nazia Samina ki bachpan ki dost thi — umr tees saal, shohar ke saath paas hi rehti thi, do bachchon ki maan. Us ki fitrat mein ek khulapan tha jo Samina mein nahi tha.
“Are Junaid!” Nazia ne use dekh kar kaha. “Tum kab aaye? University se chhutti hai?”
“Kal shaam ko aaya tha, baji,” Junaid ne kaha. “Barish mein phas gaya.”
“Achha hua,” Nazia ne kaha, kitchen ki taraf badhte hue. “Ghar mein ronak rahegi. Warna tumhari bhabhi to barish mein khidki se baahar dekh dekh kar shayar ban jati hai.”
Samina ne Nazia ko ghoora, lekin Nazia ne parwah nahi ki. Teenon ne mil kar pakode banaye — besan ka ghol, kate hue aalu aur pyaaz, garam tail mein talte hue pakode, aur saath mein chae. Bijli nahi thi, lekin ghar mein ronak thi. Junaid ne Nazia ke bachchon ke qisse sunaye, Nazia ne mohallay ki khabrein sunayein — Bibi Zahra ke bete ki naukri lagi hai, Chacha Bashir ki dukaan mein paani bhar gaya hai.
Lekin Samina ne mehsoos kiya ke Nazia use dekh rahi thi — ghaur se, dostana nazron se. Jab Junaid kitchen se baahar gaya, Nazia ne aahista se poocha: “Samina, sab theek hai?”
“Haan, kyun?” Samina ne jaldi se kaha.
“Tum kuch badli hui lag rahi ho,” Nazia ne kaha. “Aankhon mein… pata nahi, kuch hai. Khushi jaisa? Ya dard jaisa? Mein samajh nahi pa rahi.”
Samina ka dil zor se dhadka. “Kuch nahi hai. Barish ki wajah se neend poori nahi hui.”
Nazia ne use dekha, phir muskurayi. “Achha. Lekin sun — jo bhi hai, mujh se chhupana mat. Mein tumhari dost hoon.”
Jab Nazia chali gayi, shaam ho chuki thi. Barish ab bhi ho rahi thi. Bijli abhi tak nahi aayi thi — mohallay mein koi keh raha tha ke transformer jal gaya hai, kal tak bijli aayegi.
Samina ne mombattiyan jalayein. Junaid apne kamre mein tha, kitaab padh raha tha — ya padhne ka bahan kar raha tha. Samina drawing room mein bethe, us ne apne haathon ko dekha — woh haath jo subah Junaid ke haath se mile the, doodh ka glass lete hue.
Us ne haathon ko chhupaya, jaise woh unhein khud se chhupa sakti ho.
“Nahi,” us ne khud se kaha. “Yeh nahi ho sakta. Mein Khalid ki biwi hoon. Mein… mein yeh nahi kar sakti.”
Lekin us ke dil ne jawaab diya — ek khamosh, dard bhara jawaab: “To phir teri aankhon mein yeh chamak kaisi? Tere chehre par yeh muskurahat kaisi?”
Samina ne aankhein band kar leen. Us ke saamne Khalid ka chehra aaya — thaka hua, sanjeeda, phone ki screen par. “Samina, khayal rakhna apna,” woh kehta tha, har phone par. “Paise bhej diye hain.” Bas. Paise bhej diye hain. Jaise paise sab kuch hon.
Aur phir Junaid ka chehra aaya — hansta hua, ziddi, minnat karta hua. “Aap ka naam Samina hai.”
Samina ne gehri saans li. Us ne faisla kiya — woh Junaid se door rahegi. Woh us se baat nahi karegi, us ki taraf nahi dekhegi, us ke liye khana nahi banayegi. Woh apne kamre mein rahegi, darwaza band kar ke, kunddi laga kar.
Yeh faisla us ne kiya tha. Lekin faisle karna aasaan hai, un par qayam rehna mushkil. Aur Samina abhi nahi jaanti thi ke us ka yeh faisla kitni der qayam rahega.
Samina ne apna faisla poora karne ki poori koshish ki.
Agli subah woh jaldi uth gayi — Junaid se pehle. Us ne nashta banaya, mez par rakha, aur khud apne kamre mein chali gayi, yeh keh kar ke use sar mein dard hai. Junaid ne darwaze par dastak di: “Bhabhi, nashta kar lein.”
“Mujhe bhook nahi hai,” Samina ne andar se kaha. “Tum kha lo.”
“Bhabhi, darwaza kholiye na,” Junaid ne minnat ki. “Dekhein, kal raat se aap ajeeb behave kar rahi hain. Kya hua hai?”
“Kuch nahi hua. Bas sar mein dard hai.”
“To mein aap ke liye chae bana deta hoon. Adrak wali. Sar dard ke liye achhi hoti hai.”
“Junaid, please,” Samina ki awaaz mein thakaan thi. “Mujhe akela chhod do.”
Ek pal khamoshi rahi. Phir Junaid ki awaaz aayi, naram: “Theek hai. Lekin chae mein darwaze ke baahar rakh raha hoon. Jab dil kare, pi lena.”
Samina ne qadamoon ki aahat suni, door hoti hui. Us ne darwaza khola — baahar ek cup chae rakhi thi, us se dhuaan uth raha tha. Us ne cup uthaya, darwaza band kiya, aur bistar par beth kar chae pi. Chae mein adrak thi, ilaichi thi — bilkul waisi jaisi woh khud banati thi. Us ki aankhein bhar aayeen. Yeh larka usay itna jaanta tha — us ki pasand, us ki aadat. Aur woh… woh is se bhaag rahi thi.
Dopahar tak Samina kamre mein rahi. Us ne Quran padha, tasbeeh ki, apne aap ko samjhane ki koshish ki. “Yeh shaitaan ka waswasa hai,” us ne khud se kaha. “Mein Khalid ki biwi hoon. Mujhe apne shohar ka wafaadar rehna hai. Junaid mera devar hai — mere bhai jaisa.” Lekin jab us ne “bhai jaisa” kaha, us ke dil ne inkaar kar diya. Dil jhoot nahi bolta.
Shaam ko, jab barish thodi halki hui, Samina ne himmat kar ke neeche aane ka faisla kiya — ghar ke kaam to karne the. Woh kitchen mein khana bana rahi thi jab Junaid aaya. Us ne use dekha, lekin kuch nahi kaha — bas ek muskurahat di, wohi muskurahat.
“Bhabhi,” us ne kaha, “aap ka sar dard theek hua?”
“Haan,” Samina ne mukhtasar jawaab diya, sabzi kaat te hue.
“To phir aap mere saath chae piyengi? Do cup banaun?”
Samina ne chhuri rok di. “Junaid, tum samajhte kyun nahi? Mein tum se door rehna chahti hoon.”
“Kyun?” Junaid ne poocha, us ke paas aate hue. “Bataiye na, kyun? Kya mein ne koi ghalati ki hai? Kya mein ne aap ko koi dukh diya hai?”
Samina ne us ki taraf dekha. “Tum ne koi ghalati nahi ki. Ghalati… ghalati meri hai. Mere dil ki hai.” Us ki awaaz toot gayi. “Tum nahi samjhoge.”
“To samjhayein na,” Junaid ne kaha, aur us ki awaaz mein minnat thi — gehri, sachchi minnat. “Bhabhi, mein bacha nahi hoon. Mujhe bataiye ke aap ke dil mein kya hai. Mein wada karta hoon, jo bhi hoga, mein usay samjhunga. Lekin yeh door bhagna… yeh mujh se bardaasht nahi hota.”
Samina ne gehri saans li. “Mere shohar tumhare bhai hain, Junaid. Unhon ne mujh par bharosa kiya hai. Woh wahan din raat mehnat karte hain, aur mein yahan… agar mein ne un ke bharose ko thukra diya, to mein kis munh se un se baat karungi? Kis munh se Allah se maafi maangungi?”
“To kya aap ne kuch kiya hai?” Junaid ne poocha. “Kya hum ne koi gunaah kiya hai? Hum ne sirf baatein ki hain, bhabhi. Baatein karna gunaah hai?”
Samina khamosh ho gayi. Us ke paas jawaab nahi tha — kyun ke Junaid theek keh raha tha. Unhon ne kuch nahi kiya tha. Lekin Samina jaanti thi ke gunaah sirf haathon se nahi hota — dil se bhi hota hai. Aur us ka dil… us ka dil to kab ka gunaah kar chuka tha.
“Chae piyengi?” Junaid ne phir poocha, narmi se.
Samina ne use dekha — us ki aankhein, us ki minnat, us ki sachchai. Aur us ne sar hila diya. “Bana lo. Do cup.”
Junaid ka chehra khil utha. Us ne jaldi se chae banayi — do cup, bilkul waisi jaisi Samina ko pasand thi. Dono drawing room mein bethe. Bijli abhi tak nahi aayi thi, lekin ab andhera itna gehra nahi tha — baahar badal chhate hue the, shaam ki roshni khidkiyon se aa rahi thi.
“Bhabhi, aap ko pata hai,” Junaid ne kaha, chae ka ghoont lete hue, “jab mein chhota tha, to ammi kehti theen ke chae mein mohabbat gholi jati hai. Jo chae mohabbat se banaye, woh kabhi kadwi nahi hoti.”
Samina muskurayi. “Tumhari ammi bohat achhi theen.”
“Haan,” Junaid ki awaaz mein udaasi aa gayi. Us ki maan ko guzre paanch saal ho gaye the. “Un ke jaane ke baad, is ghar mein mohabbat se chae banane wali sirf aap reh gayi theen.”
Samina ka dil pighal gaya. “Junaid…”
“Suniye na,” Junaid ne kaha. “Mein aap se kuch maang nahi raha. Na koi wada, na koi iqraar. Bas itna chahta hoon ke aap mujh se bhaagein nahi. Jo bhi hai aap ke dil mein — dard hai, darr hai, ya kuch aur — mujhe bataiye. Mein aap ka dushman nahi hoon, bhabhi. Mein… mein aap ka apna hoon.”
Samina ne chae ka cup hontoon se lagaya, lekin us ka haath kaanp raha tha. “Tum nahi jaante ke tum kya maang rahe ho.”
“To bataiye na,” Junaid ne kaha. “Mein sunne ke liye tayyar hoon.”
Lekin Samina nahi bata saki. Us ke hont sil gaye. Us ne chae khatm ki, uth khadi hui. “Raat ho gayi hai. Mein khana lagati hoon.”
“Rukiye,” Junaid ne kaha, uth khade hote hue. “Ek sher sunti jayein. Poora. Aap ne kaha tha na, Faiz dil ko cheer deta hai. Suniye — ‘Mujh se pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang.'”
Us ne aankhein band kein, aur padhna shuru kiya — aahista, gehraayi se, har lafz ko mehsoos karte hue:
“Mujh se pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang,
Mein ne samjha tha ke tu hai to darakhshaan hai hayat,
Tera gham hai to gham-e-dahr ka jhagda kya hai,
Teri surat se hai aalam mein bahaaron ko sabaat,
Teri aankhon ke siwa duniya mein rakha kya hai.”
Samina ruk gayi thi. Us ke haath mein khaali cup tha, lekin woh use rakhna bhool gayi thi. Us ki aankhein Junaid par jami theen — aur us ke hont hil rahe the, jaise woh bhi padh rahi ho.
Junaid ne aankhein kholeen, use dekha — aur muskuraya. “Aagay aap sunayein, bhabhi.”
Samina ne sar hila diya. “Mein… mein bhool gayi hoon.”
“Nahi bhooli hain,” Junaid ne kaha, narmi se. “Aap ke hont bata rahe hain ke aap ko yaad hai. Sunayein na.”
Samina ne gehri saans li. Phir, aahista se, jaise koi purana darwaza khol rahi ho, us ne kaha:
“Tu jo mil jaye to taqdeer nigoon ho jaye,
Yun na tha, mein ne faqat chaaha tha yun ho jaye.”
Us ki awaaz mein ek dard tha — itna gehra ke Junaid ki aankhein bhar aayeen.
“Aagay?” Junaid ne poocha, us ki awaaz mein minnat thi.
Samina ne aankhein band kar leen, aur aagay padha — poori nazm, har sher, har lafz, baghair ruke. Jab us ne aakhri sher khatm kiya — “Mujh se pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang” — to kamre mein khamoshi chha gayi.
Junaid ne use dekha — hairat se, izzat se. “Bhabhi… aap ko poori nazm yaad thi.”
Samina ne aankhein kholeen — un mein aansu the. “Meri ammi ko Faiz bohat pasand tha,” us ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein ek door ki yaad thi. “Woh mujhe sunati theen — raat ko, sote waqt. Mein ne un se seekhi thi. Shaadi ke baad…” Woh ruki. “Shaadi ke baad mein ne shayari ko bhoola diya. Ya shayad shayari ne mujhe bhoola diya.”
“Shayari kabhi nahi bhoolti,” Junaid ne kaha, us ke paas aate hue. “Woh sirf intezaar karti hai — ke koi use phir se pukare. Aur aaj aap ne use pukara hai.”
Samina ne use dekha — aur us ne mehsoos kiya ke us ke andar kuch khul raha hai, koi purana taala khul raha hai. “Junaid,” us ne kaha, “tum pehle shakhs ho, itne saalon mein, jis ne mujh se meri pasand poochhi hai. Jis ne mujhe… mujhe dekha hai.”
“To phir mujhe dekhne dijiye,” Junaid ne kaha. “Roz. Hamesha.”
Samina ne kuch nahi kaha. Us ne sirf apna khaali cup mez par rakha, aur kitchen ki taraf chal padi — lekin is baar us ke qadam tez nahi the. Is baar woh bhaag nahi rahi thi. Woh sirf… ja rahi thi. Aur us ke chehre par ek halki si muskurahat thi — woh muskurahat jo Faiz ki nazm ne wapas layi thi.
Woh kitchen ki taraf chal padi. Junaid use jata dekhta raha. Us ne apne cup ko dekha — khaali. Aur Samina ke cup ko dekha — us mein abhi thodi chae baaqi thi, aur cup ke kinare par us ke hontoon ka halka sa nishan tha.
Junaid ne woh cup uthaya, aur us nishan ko dekhta raha. Phir us ne cup ko aahista se mez par rakh diya, jaise woh koi qeemti cheez ho.
“Mein haar nahi maanunga, Samina,” us ne aahista se kaha, khud se. “Chahe tum kitna bhi bhaago. Kyun ke mein jaanta hoon — tum bhi bhaagna nahi chahti.”
Us ne cup uthaye, kitchen mein rakhe, aur apne kamre mein chala gaya. Kamre mein andhera tha — bijli abhi tak nahi aayi thi. Us ne mombatti jalayi, mez par rakhi, aur apni diary nikali — ek purani diary, jis mein woh kabhi kabhi sher likhta tha.
Us ne kalam uthaya, aur likha:
*”Woh kehti hai door raho, mein paas aata hoon,*
*Woh kehti hai bhool jao, mein yaad aata hoon.*
*Us ki har na mein chhupi hai ek haan,*
*Mein us haan ko sunne ka aadi ho gaya hoon.”*
Us ne sher ko padha, phir kaat diya. “Bura hai,” us ne khud se kaha, muskurate hue. “Lekin dil se nikla hai. Aur dil se nikli cheez kabhi buri nahi hoti.”
Us ne diary band ki, aur khidki ke paas ja kar khada ho gaya. Baahar barish ho rahi thi. Us ne socha — Samina ab kya kar rahi hogi? Shayad so rahi hogi. Shayad jaag rahi hogi, us ke baare mein soch rahi hogi. Us ne dua ki — ke woh sukoon se soye.
Phir us ne apne bistar par let kar aankhein band kar leen. Us ke zehen mein Samina ka chehra tha — muskurata hua, woh muskurahat jo us ne aaj shaam ko dekhi thi, pakode banate hue. Us ne socha — mein us muskurahat ko wapas launga. Roz launga. Chahe mujhe roz jale hue parathe banane padein.
Aur is khayal ke saath, woh so gaya — pehli baar kaafi dino mein, sukoon se.
Raat ko khana khane ke baad, Junaid ne kaha: “Bhabhi, woh purani album kahan hai? Ammi wali?”
Samina ne hairat se dekha. “Kyun?”
“Bas, dekhne ka dil kar raha hai. Barish ki raat, bijli nahi, purani yaadein — is se achha mauqa kya hoga?” Junaid ne muskurate hue kaha. “Aur waise bhi, aap ne kaha tha na ke aap mujh se nahi bhaagein gi. To phir bethein, saath mein dekhein.”
Samina ne ek pal socha, phir uth kar apne kamre se ek badi si album le aayi — purani, us ke cover par waqt ke nishan, lekin andar ki tasveerein abhi tak saaf theen. Dono drawing room mein bethe, mombatti ki roshni mein.
Pehle safhe par Junaid ke abba aur ammi ki tasveer thi — dono jawan, khush. Phir Khalid ki bachpan ki tasveerein, phir Junaid ki — chhota sa larka, school ki uniform mein, Eid ke kapdon mein, cricket khelte hue.
“Dekho, yeh tum ho,” Samina ne kaha, ek tasveer ki taraf ishaara karte hue — das saal ka Junaid, haath mein trophy, chehre par fakhr.
“Aur yeh?” Junaid ne agla safha palta. Wahan Samina ki shaadi ki tasveerein theen — Samina dulhan ke libaas mein, chehre par sharm, aankhon mein… Junaid ne ghaur se dekha. Aankhon mein khushi nahi thi — ek khaali pan tha, jaise woh kisi aur duniya mein ho.
“Aap khush nahi lag rahi is tasveer mein,” Junaid ne aahista se kaha.
Samina ne tasveer ko dekha, der tak. “Shaadi ka din har larki ke liye ajeeb hota hai,” us ne kaha. “Khushi bhi hoti hai, darr bhi. Naya ghar, naye log…”
“Lekin aap ki aankhein…” Junaid ruka. “Chhodiye. Agla safha dekhte hain.”
Agla safha palta to wahan Junaid ki university jaane wali tasveer thi — athara saal ka Junaid, thaela kandhe par, ghar ke darwaze par khada, peechay Samina aur Khalid. Junaid ke chehre par josh tha, nayi duniya ka josh.
Samina ne is tasveer ko dekha, aur us ka haath ruk gaya. Us ki ungliyan tasveer par theen — Junaid ke chehre par. Us ki aankhein bhar aayeen, aur us ne jaldi se palta, agla safha dekhne ki koshish ki. Lekin Junaid ne dekh liya tha.
“Bhabhi,” us ne kaha, “aap ruk kyun gayi theen?”
“Kuch nahi,” Samina ne jaldi se kaha. “Bas… purani yaad aa gayi.”
“Kaisi yaad?” Junaid ne poocha, us ki taraf dekhte hue.
Samina khamosh ho gayi. Woh tasveer — woh din. Chhe saal pehle ka woh din, jab Junaid ghar se nikla tha, aur us ne us raat woh khat likha tha. Us din ke baad se us ne Junaid ko kabhi us nazar se nahi dekha tha — us ne apne dil par taala laga diya tha. Lekin taale kabhi dilon par nahi lagte, sirf sandooqon par lagte hain.
“Kuch yaadein aisi hoti hain,” Samina ne aahista se kaha, “jinhein yaad karna bhi gunaah lagta hai.”
Junaid ne use dekha. “Aur kuch yaadein aisi hoti hain jinhein bhoolna gunaah hota hai.” Us ne album band ki. “Bhabhi, mein ne mehsoos kiya hai — jab bhi us din ki baat aati hai, jab mein university gaya tha, aap ka chehra badal jata hai. Kyun?”
Samina uth khadi hui. “Bohat raat ho gayi hai. Album rehne do, kal dekhenge.”
“Bhabhi—”
“Shab bakhair, Junaid.” Samina ne album uthayi aur apne kamre ki taraf chal padi.
Lekin seedhiyon par chadhte hue, us ke haath se album phisli — aur zameen par gir gayi. Tasveerein bikhar gayein. Samina jaldi se jhuki unhein sametne ke liye. Junaid bhi aaya madad ke liye.
Dono ne ek saath ek tasveer uthayi — wohi tasveer, Junaid ke university jaane wali. Un ke haath mile. Samina ne haath kheenchna chaha, lekin Junaid ne us ka haath pakad liya — narmi se, lekin mazbooti se.
“Chhodiye mujhe,” Samina ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein bechaini thi.
“Nahi,” Junaid ne kaha. “Aaj nahi. Aaj aap bata kar jayengi ke is tasveer mein aisa kya hai jo aap ko rula deta hai.”
Samina ne us ki aankhon mein dekha — aur us ne wahan koi zabardasti nahi dekhi, koi ghalat irada nahi dekha. Sirf mohabbat dekhi — khaalis, be-lous mohabbat. Aur us ka dil toot gaya.
“Chhodo mujhe, Junaid,” us ne kaha, aur is baar us ki awaaz mein aansu the. “Please. Tum nahi jaante ke tum kya kar rahe ho. Agar tumhein pata chal gaya… agar tumhein pata chal gaya to tum mujh se nafrat karoge.”
“Nafrat?” Junaid ne us ka haath chhoda, lekin us ki nazrein nahi hatayein. “Bhabhi, mein aap se nafrat kabhi nahi kar sakta. Chahe aap jo bhi kahein, jo bhi karein. Yeh mera wada hai.”
Samina ne tasveerein sametein, album band ki, aur tezi se upar chali gayi. Us ke peechay Junaid khada raha, us ke haath mein abhi tak us tasveer ki garmi thi — aur us ke dil mein ek sawaal tha jo ab aur gehra ho gaya tha.
Upar apne kamre mein, Samina ne album ko almari mein rakha — us sandooq ke paas, jahan woh khat tha. Us ne sandooq ko dekha, phir album ko, phir apne aks ko aaine mein.
“Tum kab tak bhaagogi, Samina?” us ne apne aks se poocha.
Aaks ne jawaab nahi diya. Lekin Samina jaanti thi jawaab — woh tab tak bhaagegi jab tak us ke paon mein dum hai. Kyun ke rukne ka matlab tha saamna karna — apne dil ka, apne raaz ka, us khat ka.
Aur us khat ka saamna karne ki himmat us mein nahi thi. Abhi nahi.
Lekin us ne album ko khola — phir se. Us ne us tasveer ko dekha — Junaid, athara saal ka, thaela kandhe par. Aur us ki nazar tasveer ke peechay pade ek sookhe phool par padi — ek gulaab, jo waqt ne kaala kar diya tha, lekin us ki shakal abhi tak bachi thi.
Samina ne use uthaya, ungliyon mein rakha. Usay yaad aaya — yeh phool us ne usi din rakha tha, chhe saal pehle. Junaid ke jaane ke baad, us ne sehan mein lage gulaab ke paudhe se ek phool toda tha, aur album mein rakh diya tha — us tasveer ke saath. Us waqt us ne khud se kaha tha — “Yeh meri mohabbat ki nishani hai. Jo kabhi kisi ko nahi dikhaungi.”
Us ne phool ko hontoon se lagaya — sookha, be-khushbu, lekin us ke liye us mein abhi tak woh khushbu thi jo us din thi. Us ki aankhon se aansu behne lage.
“Mein ne tumhein kabhi nahi bataya,” us ne phool se kaha, jaise woh Junaid ho, “ke tumhare jaane ke baad mein ne kitni raatein jaag kar guzari theen. Ke mein ne tumhare kamre mein ja kar tumhara bistar dekha tha — khaali. Ke mein ne tumhari kitaabein chhu kar dekhi theen — jaise un mein tumhari khushbu bachi ho.”
Us ne phool wapas album mein rakha, album band ki, aur use seene se lagaya. “So jao, Samina,” us ne khud se kaha. “Kal naya din hoga. Aur tum phir se mazboot banogi.”
Lekin woh jaanti thi — woh mazboot nahi banegi. Kyun ke mazbooti ka naqaab ab tootne laga tha. Aur us ke neeche jo tha — woh sirf ek aurat thi, jo mohabbat karti thi, aur darti thi.
Agli dopahar barish thodi ruki — sirf thodi, jaise aasman saans le raha ho. Bijli abhi tak nahi aayi thi. Mohallay mein khabar thi ke transformer theek ho raha hai, shaam tak bijli aa jayegi.
Samina ghar ke kaamon mein masroof thi — kapde dhoye, sehan saaf kiya, kitchen sameta. Kaam mein dil lagane ki koshish kar rahi thi, taake sochne ka waqt na mile. Lekin sochna to dil ka kaam hai, haathon ka nahi — haath kaam karte rahe, dil sochta raha.
Junaid apne kamre mein tha. Woh neeche aaya, haath mein ek kitaab — Ghalib ka deewan.
“Bhabhi,” us ne kaha, “aap ke liye ek sher laaya hoon.”
Samina ne use dekha. “Mujhe shayari se kya lena?”
“Suniye to,” Junaid ne kitaab kholi. “‘Dil-e-nadaan tujhe hua kya hai, aakhir is dard ki dawa kya hai.'” Us ne kitaab band ki. “Ghalib ne sau saal pehle aap ke dil ki baat keh di thi.”
Samina ke hontoon par halki muskurahat aa gayi, lekin us ne use chhupaya. “Tumhein to har baat mein shayari nazar aati hai.”
“Shayari har baat mein hoti hai, bhabhi. Bas dekhne wali aankh chahiye.” Junaid ne idhar udhar dekha. “Waise, mein aap ke kamre mein aaya tha subah — aap neeche theen. Woh almari ke upar jo sandooq hai… bohat purana lagta hai. Us mein kya hai?”
Samina ka chehra ek dam badal gaya. Us ke haath ruk gaye. “Tum… tum mere kamre mein kyun gaye the?”
“Bas aise hi,” Junaid ne kandhe uchkaye. “Darwaza khula tha. Aur woh sandooq dekha to tajassus hua. Koi khazana hai kya us mein?”
“Khazana?” Samina ki awaaz tez ho gayi. “Tumhein mere kamre mein jaane ka koi haq nahi hai! Aur us sandooq ko haath lagane ka to bilkul nahi!”
Junaid hairan reh gaya. Us ne kabhi Samina ko itna gussa mein nahi dekha tha. “Bhabhi, mein ne to bas poocha tha. Aap itna gussa kyun ho rahi hain?”
Samina ne gehri saans li, apne aap ko sambhalne ki koshish ki. “Maaf karna,” us ne kaha, us ki awaaz ab naram thi, lekin us mein ek larzish thi. “Woh sandooq… woh meri ammi ka hai. Un ki nishani. Us mein un ki kuch cheezein hain. Mein nahi chahti ke koi use chhue.”
Junaid ne use dekha — aur us ne jhoot ko pehchan liya. Samina ki ammi ko guzre das saal ho gaye the, aur Samina ne kabhi un ka zikr is andaz mein nahi kiya tha. Lekin us ne kuch nahi kaha. Us ne sirf sar hila diya.
“Theek hai, bhabhi. Mein wada karta hoon — mein us sandooq ko kabhi nahi chhuunga. Kabhi nahi.”
Samina ne use dekha, us ki aankhon mein dekha — aur us ne wahan sachchai dekhi. “Shukriya,” us ne kaha.
Lekin us raat, jab Samina apne kamre mein akeli thi, us ne sandooq ko dekha — aur us ke dil mein ek faisla pakka hua. Yeh sandooq, yeh khat, yeh raaz — yahi us ki saari pareshani ki jad thi. Agar yeh khat na hota, to shayad woh Junaid ke saamne itni kamzor na padti. Agar yeh raaz na hota, to shayad woh apne dil ko sambhal sakti.
Us ne bistar ke neeche se rumal nikala, us mein lipTi chaabi nikali. Us ke haath kaanp rahe the. Us ne chaabi ko dekha — chhoti si, purani, lekin us ki zindagi ka sab se bada bojh.
“Bas,” us ne khud se kaha. “Aaj raat is khat ko jala dungi. Phir koi raaz nahi rahega. Phir mein apne dil ko keh sakungi ke woh jo tha, woh khatm ho gaya. Phir shayad… shayad mein sukoon se ji sakun.”
Us ne sandooq ko almari se neeche utara. Woh bhaari nahi tha, lekin us ke haathon mein us ka wazan pahaad jaisa lag raha tha. Us ne use mez par rakha, mombatti jalayi, aur chaabi taale mein daali.
Taala khula — chhe saal baad pehli baar.
Sandooq ke andar kuch purane kapde the, ek tasveer — Samina ki ammi ki — aur neeche, sab se neeche, ek peela pad gaya lifafa. Samina ne use uthaya. Us ke haath itne kaanp rahe the ke lifafa girne wala tha. Us ne use seene se lagaya, aur us ki aankhon se aansu behne lage.
“Maaf karna,” us ne lifafe se kaha, jaise woh koi zinda cheez ho. “Mujhe tumhein jalana padega. Tumhein rehna nahi chahiye. Tum meri kamzori ho.”
Us ne mombatti uthayi, lifafe ko us ki lau ke paas le gayi —
Aur tabhi darwaze par dastak hui.
Samina chaunk gayi. Lifafa us ke haath se chhoot kar mez par gir gaya. “Kaun?”
“Mein hoon, Junaid,” us ki awaaz aayi. “Bhabhi, aap ro rahi hain? Mujhe aap ke rone ki awaaz aayi.”
Samina ne jaldi se aansu ponchhe. “Nahi, mein nahi ro rahi. Tum jao, so jao.”
“Bhabhi, darwaza kholiye,” Junaid ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein fikar thi. “Please.”
Samina ne darwaze ki taraf dekha, phir mez par pade lifafe ki taraf. Us ke dil mein ek jung chhid gayi — ek taraf us ka raaz tha, doosri taraf Junaid ki fikar. Aur is jung mein, is baar, raaz haar gaya.
Us ne darwaza khola.
Junaid andar aaya, aur us ki nazar seedha mez par pade khule sandooq par padi — aur us lifafe par, jo abhi tak us ke haath ki garmi liye hue tha.
“Bhabhi, yeh…” Junaid ne lifafe ki taraf dekha. “Yeh kya hai?”
Samina ne gehri saans li. Us ke chehre par ab koi naqaab nahi tha — sirf dard tha, khaalis dard. Us ne lifafa uthaya, aur Junaid ki taraf badhaya.
“Padh lo,” us ne kaha, us ki awaaz toot rahi thi. “Padh lo, aur phir tum samjhoge ke mein tum se kyun bhaag rahi thi. Phir tum samjhoge ke mein kaun hoon.”
Junaid ne lifafa liya. Us ne Samina ki taraf dekha — us ki aankhon mein aansu the, lekin us ke chehre par ek ajeeb si sukoon thi, jaise koi bojh utarne wala ho.
“Beth jao,” Samina ne kaha, bistar ki taraf ishaara karte hue. “Aur padho. Zor se mat padhna. Bas… padh lo.”
Junaid beth gaya, mombatti ki roshni mein lifafa khola, aur kagaz nikala — peela pad gaya kagaz, us par Samina ki likhawat, jo waqt ne halki kar di thi, lekin alfaaz abhi tak zinda the.
Us ne padhna shuru kiya. Aur jaise jaise woh padhta gaya, us ka chehra badalta gaya — hairat, dard, samajh, aur phir kuch aisa jo alfaaz mein bayan nahi ho sakta.
Kyunki woh khat sirf ek khat nahi tha. Woh ek aaina tha — jis mein Junaid ne pehli baar Samina ko dekha, asal Samina ko, woh Samina jo us ne kabhi jaani nahi thi.
Mombatti ki lau kaanp rahi thi. Junaid ke haath mein woh peela kagaz tha, aur us ki aankhein alfaaz par jam gayi theen. Samina khidki ke paas khadi thi, us ki peeth us ki taraf thi — woh us ka chehra nahi dekhna chahti thi jab woh padhe. Woh us ki hairat nahi dekhna chahti thi, us ka dard nahi dekhna chahti thi, aur sab se zyada — us ki nafrat nahi dekhna chahti thi.
Khat yun shuru hota tha:
*”Mere pyaare Junaid,*
*Agar tum yeh khat padh rahe ho, to is ka matlab hai ke mein apna wada tod chuki hoon — woh wada jo mein ne khud se kiya tha ke yeh khat kabhi kisi ko nahi dikhaungi. Lekin shayad kuch wade todne ke liye hi kiye jate hain.*
*Tum aaj ghar se gaye ho — university, nayi zindagi, naye sapne. Mein ne tumhein darwaze par khada dekha, thaela kandhe par, chehre par josh. Aur mere dil mein ek dard utha, aisa dard jo mein ne pehle kabhi mehsoos nahi kiya. Tab mujhe samajh aaya — mein tum se mohabbat karti hoon. Apne devar se. Apne shohar ke bhai se.*
*Mat ghabrana. Mein jaanti hoon yeh ghalat hai. Mein jaanti hoon mein Khalid ki biwi hoon — tumhare bhai ki amanat. Mein jaanti hoon ke is ehsaas ka koi mustaqbil nahi hai, koi manzil nahi hai. Lekin dil se kaun jeet saka hai?*
*Mein ne socha tha ke shaadi ka matlab hai mohabbat. Lekin Khalid ne mujhe izzat di, sukoon diya, ghar diya — lekin woh nahi diya jo tum ne mujhe bina diye de diya: yeh ehsaas ke mein zinda hoon. Tumhari hansi par mera dil khush hota hai. Tumhari kamyabi par meri aankhein bhar aati hain. Tumhare jaane par ghar soona lagta hai. Yeh sab kya hai, agar mohabbat nahi?*
*Lekin suno, mere bache — haan, tum mere liye abhi bhi bache ho, athara saal ke — mein is mohabbat ko kabhi zubaan nahi dungi. Mein isay apne dil mein dafan kar dungi, is sandooq mein, is khat mein. Kyun ke mein Khalid ki biwi hoon, aur mein apne shohar se bewafai nahi karungi — na haathon se, na dil se. Aaj se, mein tumhein sirf apna devar samjhungi. Aur tum mujhe sirf apni bhabhi samajhna. Yahi hamari qismat hai.*
*Agar kabhi, kisi raat, tumhein lage ke meri aankhon mein kuch aur hai — to samajh lena ke woh sirf thakaan hai. Kuch aur nahi. Kabhi kuch aur nahi.*
*Tumhari — nahi, sirf tumhari bhabhi,*
*Samina”*
Junaid ne khat khatm kiya, lekin us ki aankhein kagaz par jami raheen. Us ke haath kaanp rahe the. Us ne sar uthaya, Samina ki taraf dekha — woh abhi tak khidki ke paas khadi thi, us ki peeth us ki taraf thi, us ke kandhe hila rahe the — woh ro rahi thi, khamoshi se.
“Samina,” Junaid ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein ek narmi thi jo pehle kabhi nahi thi.
“Mat kaho kuch,” Samina ne kaha, muday baghair. “Bas… ab tum jaante ho. Ab tum samjhe ke mein tum se kyun bhaag rahi thi. Mein tum se nahi bhaag rahi thi, Junaid. Mein khud se bhaag rahi thi. Apne dil se. Is khat se.”
Junaid uth khada hua, us ke paas aaya — lekin use chhua nahi. Woh us ke paas khada raha, itna qareeb ke us ki saansein mehsoos ho rahi theen.
“Chhe saal,” Junaid ne aahista se kaha. “Chhe saal se tum is bojh ko apne dil mein liye phir rahi ho. Chhe saal se tum ne khud ko saza di hai — ek aise ehsaas ki, jo gunaah nahi tha, jo sirf… insaan hona tha.”
“Gunaah tha,” Samina ne kaha, mud kar us ki taraf dekha. Us ka chehra aansuon se bheega hua tha, lekin us ki aankhon mein ab koi parda nahi tha. “Mein ek shaadi shuda aurat thi. Tum mere devar the. Yeh gunaah tha.”
“Kya tum ne kabhi kuch kiya?” Junaid ne poocha. “Kya tum ne kabhi mujhe chhua? Kabhi kaha? Kabhi… kuch bhi?”
Samina ne sar hila diya. “Nahi. Kabhi nahi.”
“To phir gunaah kahan hai?” Junaid ki awaaz mein dard tha. “Tum ne apne dil mein ek ehsaas ko mehsoos kiya, aur usay dafan kar diya. Tum ne apne shohar se bewafai nahi ki. Tum ne mujh se kuch nahi kaha. Tum ne sirf… khud ko saza di. Chhe saal tak.”
Samina ne use dekha. “Tum samajhte nahi—”
“Mein samajhta hoon,” Junaid ne us ki baat kaati, lekin pyaar se. “Ab mein samajhta hoon. Tum mujh se is liye bhaag rahi thi kyun ke tum darti thi — ke agar tum ruk gayi, to tumhara dil tumhein dhoka de dega. Tumhein darr tha ke tum kamzor pad jaogi. Aur tumhein sab se zyada darr is baat ka tha ke mein tumhein is haal mein dekh lunga.”
Samina khamosh ho gayi. Kyun ke Junaid ne sach kaha tha — poora sach.
“Samina,” Junaid ne kaha, aur us ne us ka haath pakda — is baar Samina ne haath nahi kheenche. “Tum ne yeh khat mujhe kyun dikhaya?”
Samina ne gehri saans li. “Kyun ke mein thak gayi hoon, Junaid. Chhe saal se mein is raaz ko liye phir rahi hoon. Chhe saal se mein apne dil se lad rahi hoon. Aur aaj raat, jab mein is khat ko jalane lagi thi, mujhe ehsaas hua — mein isay jala to dungi, lekin apne dil ko kaise jalaungi? Woh to ab bhi dhadak raha hai. Tumhare liye.”
Yeh pehli baar tha ke Samina ne apne ehsaas ka iqraar kiya tha — khul kar, saaf alfaaz mein. Aur is iqraar ne kamre ki hawa badal di.
Junaid ne us ka haath apne dono haathon mein liya. “Samina, suno. Mein tum se kuch nahi maangunga jo tum dena nahi chahti. Yeh mera wada hai. Agar tum kaho ke yeh khat bas ek purani yaad thi, aur hum ise bhool jayein — to mein bhool jaunga. Agar tum kaho ke mein tum se door rahoon — to mein door rahunga. Tumhari marzi ke baghair, mein ek qadam bhi aagay nahi badhaunga.”
Samina ne use dekha. “Tum… tum aisa kar sakte ho?”
“Mein tumhare liye kuch bhi kar sakta hoon,” Junaid ne kaha. “Kyun ke mein tum se mohabbat karta hoon, Samina. Chhe saal se nahi — lekin jab se mein ne tumhein dekha hai, asal mein dekha hai. Aur ab jab mein ne yeh khat padha hai, to meri mohabbat aur gehra ho gayi hai. Kyun ke ab mein jaanta hoon — tum ne mujh se pehle mohabbat ki thi. Tum ne zyada dard saha hai. Tum zyada bahadur ho.”
Samina ki aankhon se aansu behne lage — lekin is baar woh dard ke aansu nahi the. Woh kuch aur the — rahat ke, aazadi ke.
“Junaid,” us ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein ek nayi taaqat thi, “tum ne kaha tha ke tum meri marzi ke baghair ek qadam nahi badhaoge. To suno meri marzi.”
Woh ruki. Kamre mein khamoshi chha gayi. Baahar barish ki awaaz aa rahi thi, mombatti ki lau kaanp rahi thi, aur do dil dhadak rahe the — ek saath, ek taal par.
“Meri marzi…” Samina ne kaha, aur us ne Junaid ka haath apne seene par rakha — apne dil par, jo zor zor se dhadak raha tha. “Meri marzi yeh hai ke tum ruko. Mat jao. Chhe saal mein ne tumhein apne dil se door rakha. Ab aur nahi. Ab mein jeena chahti hoon, Junaid. Tumhare saath — chahe ek raat ke liye hi sahi.”
Junaid ne use dekha — us ki aankhon mein, us ke chehre par — aur us ne wahan koi majboori nahi dekhi, koi kamzori nahi dekhi. Us ne sirf ek aurat dekhi, jo apni marzi se, apne poore hosh o hawaas mein, apne dil ki sun rahi thi.
Yeh woh lamha tha — woh lamha jis ka intezaar chhe saal se tha. Woh lamha jab Samina ne haar nahi maani thi — us ne jeet haasil ki thi. Apne darr par jeet, apne raaz par jeet, apne dil par jeet.
Aur Junaid ne us lamhe ko sambhal kar rakha — jaise koi qeemti tohfa sambhal kar rakhta hai.
Samina ne us ki taraf dekha — us ki aankhon mein ab koi parda nahi tha. “Junaid, kya tum jaanna chahte ho ke mein ne woh khat kis raat likha tha?”
Junaid ne sar hila diya.
“Us raat bhi barish ho rahi thi,” Samina ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein ek door ki yaad thi. “Tum subah hostel ke liye nikle the. Sara din ghar mein tumhari kami mehsoos hoti rahi — tumhari hansi, tumhari baatein, tumhare qadam. Raat ko jab sab so gaye, mein apne kamre mein bethi rahi. Baahar barish ho rahi thi, aur mere andar bhi barish ho rahi thi.”
Us ne khidki ki taraf dekha — baahar abhi bhi barish ho rahi thi, jaise us raat. “Mein ne kalam uthaya, aur likhna shuru kiya. Pehle to mein ne sirf tumhara naam likha — ‘Junaid’ — baar baar, poore safhe par. Phir mujhe ehsaas hua ke mein kya kar rahi hoon, aur mein ne woh safha phaad diya. Phir mein ne dobara likha — is baar dil se. Har lafz ke saath mere aansu beh rahe the. Jab khat mukammal hua, to subah ke chaar baj rahe the. Azaan hone wali thi.”
“Phir?” Junaid ne poocha, narmi se.
“Phir mein ne use teh kiya, lifafe mein daala, aur sandooq mein band kar diya,” Samina ne kaha. “Aur mein ne Allah se dua ki — ‘Ya Allah, is ehsaas ko mere dil se nikaal de. Mujhe meri zimmedaari nibhane ki taaqat de.'”
“Aur kya Allah ne tumhari dua qubool ki?” Junaid ne poocha.
Samina ne halki si muskurahat di — dard bhari. “Nahi. Shayad Allah jaanta tha ke yeh ehsaas gunaah nahi hai. Shayad woh chahta tha ke mein isay samjhun, isay qubool karun. Lekin mein ne chhe saal tak us se ladai ki. Aur aaj…” Us ne Junaid ka haath pakda. “Aaj mein ne haar maan li. Nahi — aaj mein ne jeet haasil ki. Apne darr par.”
Junaid ne us ka haath apne maathe se lagaya — izzat se, mohabbat se. “Tum sab se bahadur aurat ho, Samina. Jo apne dil ka saamna kare, wohi bahadur hota hai.”
Samina ne us ki taraf dekha — aur us ne mehsoos kiya ke us ka dil halka ho gaya hai, jaise chhe saal ka bojh utar gaya ho. Woh ab aazaad thi — apne raaz se, apne darr se, apne aap se.
Us lamhe ke baad, dono der tak khamosh rahe. Samina ka haath abhi tak Junaid ke haathon mein tha, us ka dil abhi tak us ki ungliyon ke neeche dhadak raha tha. Kamre mein mombatti jal rahi thi, baahar barish ho rahi thi, aur waqt jaise ruk gaya tha.
“Samina,” Junaid ne aahista se kaha, “kya tumhein darr lag raha hai?”
Samina ne sar hila diya. “Bohat.”
“Kis baat ka?”
“Har baat ka.” Samina ne apna haath us ke haathon se nikala, aur bistar par beth gayi. Junaid bhi betha — thoda faasle par, use jagah dete hue. “Mujhe darr lag raha hai ke mein ghalat kar rahi hoon. Mujhe darr lag raha hai ke Khalid ko pata chal gaya to… woh mujh se nafrat karenge. Mujhe darr lag raha hai ke mohalla, Nazia, sab… sab mujhe bura kahenge. Aur sab se zyada…” Woh ruki, us ki awaaz toot gayi. “Sab se zyada mujhe darr lag raha hai ke kahin yeh sab ek khwab na ho. Ke subah uthun to tum wahi devar ho, mein wahi bhabhi hoon, aur yeh raat kabhi aayi hi na ho.”
Junaid ne use dekha, der tak. Phir us ne kaha: “To phir ruko. Abhi bhi waqt hai. Agar tumhein lagta hai ke yeh ghalat hai, to hum yahin ruk jate hain. Mein yeh khat wapas sandooq mein rakh dunga, tum chaabi wapas rumal mein lapet dena, aur hum aise rahenge jaise kuch hua hi nahi. Mein tum se kabhi is raat ka zikr nahi karunga. Yeh mera wada hai.”
Samina ne use dekha — hairat se. “Tum… tum aisa kar sakte ho? Itni aasaani se?”
“Aasaani se nahi,” Junaid ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein dard tha. “Bohat mushkil se. Lekin tumhari khushi ke liye, tumhare sukoon ke liye — mein kuch bhi kar sakta hoon. Kyun ke meri mohabbat tumhein qaid karne ke liye nahi hai, Samina. Tumhein aazaad karne ke liye hai.”
Samina ki aankhein bhar aayeen. “Tum itne achhe kyun ho, Junaid?”
“Mein achha nahi hoon,” Junaid ne muskurate hue kaha. “Mein sirf tum se mohabbat karta hoon. Aur mohabbat mein insaan achha banne ki koshish karta hai.”
Samina ne gehri saans li. Us ne apne dil mein jhanka — wahan darr tha, sharam thi, Khalid ka chehra tha, mohallay ki baatein theen. Lekin un sab ke neeche, sab se gehra, ek aur ehsaas tha — mohabbat. Chhe saal purani mohabbat, jo aaj raat aazad hui thi.
“Junaid,” us ne kaha, “tum ne mujhe chuna hai — meri marzi poochhi hai, mujhe waqt diya hai, mujhe aazaad rakha hai. Ab meri baari hai.” Woh uth khadi hui, us ke paas aayi, aur us ke saamne khadi ho gayi. “Mein darti hoon. Mein sharminda hoon. Mujhe nahi pata ke kal kya hoga. Lekin mein ek baat jaanti hoon — aaj raat, is waqt, mein tumhare saath hona chahti hoon. Apni marzi se. Apne dil se. Koi majboori nahi, koi kamzori nahi. Sirf… mein.”
Us ne apna haath badhaya. Junaid ne use thaama — narmi se, izzat se, jaise woh koi dua thaam raha ho.
“To phir,” Junaid ne kaha, uth khade hote hue, “aaj raat hum dono ki hai.”
Samina ne mombatti ko dekha — woh aadhi jal chuki thi. Us ne ek aur mombatti jalayi, taake roshni kam na ho. “Roshni mein,” us ne kaha, Junaid ki taraf dekhte hue, us ke chehre par ek sharmili muskurahat thi. “Mein andheray mein nahi chhupna chahti. Jo ho, roshni mein ho.”
Junaid ne sar hila diya. “Roshni mein.”
Woh dono bistar par bethe — paas paas, lekin abhi chhue baghair. Junaid ne Samina ka chehra apne haathon mein liya — aahista, jaise woh koi sheesha pakad raha ho jo toot sakta hai. Us ne us ki aankhon mein dekha, aur Samina ne us ki aankhon mein dekha. Aur un dono ne ek doosre mein woh dekha jo chhe saal se chhupa hua tha.
“Samina,” Junaid ne kaha, “tum khoobsurat ho.”
Samina ne halki si hansi hansi — aansuon ke saath. “Battis saal ki hoon, Junaid. Khoobsurti to kab ki—”
“Khamosh,” Junaid ne us ke hontoon par ungli rakh di. “Tum aaj bhi utni hi khoobsurat ho jitni us tasveer mein theen — us din jab mein university gaya tha. Balki zyada. Kyun ke ab tumhari aankhon mein woh chamak hai jo us din nahi thi.”
Samina ne us ki ungli ko apne hontoon se hataya, aur us ka haath thaam liya. “Tum shayar ho gaye ho.”
“Tum ne bana diya,” Junaid ne kaha.
Phir, aahista se, jaise waqt ko rokna chahta ho, Junaid ne Samina ke maathe par ek bosa diya — naram, pak, izzat bhara. Samina ne aankhein band kar leen. Us ke dil mein ek sukoon utra — aisa sukoon jo us ne saalon se mehsoos nahi kiya tha.
“Junaid,” us ne kaha, aankhein kholte hue, “mein ne kabhi… matlab, Khalid ke saath bhi… aisa kabhi mehsoos nahi kiya.”
“Kya?”
“Yeh,” Samina ne kaha, apne dil par haath rakhte hue. “Yeh dhadkan. Yeh zindagi.”
Junaid ne use apne qareeb kiya — aahista, use waqt dete hue, har pal mein us ki marzi poochhte hue — nazron se, saanson se, khamoshi se. Aur Samina ne har baar haan kaha — nazron se, saanson se, khamoshi se.
Baahar barish tez ho gayi, jaise aasman bhi un ki khushi mein sharik hona chahta ho. Bijli kadki, lekin is baar us ki chamak ne unhein daraya nahi — us ne un ke chehron ko roshan kiya, un ki mohabbat ko roshan kiya.
Aur is tarah, chhe saal ke intezaar ke baad, do dil ek hue — roshni mein, marzi se, mohabbat se.
Ikraar ke baad, dono der tak bistar par bethe rahe — paas paas, lekin abhi ek doosre ko chhue baghair, jaise dono is naye ehsaas ko samajhne ki koshish kar rahe hon. Mombatti aadhi jal chuki thi. Baahar barish halki ho gayi thi — ab sirf boondein gir rahi theen, khidki par tik tik karti hui.
“Samina,” Junaid ne kaha, aahista se, “kya tum mujhe apni shaadi ke din ke baare mein bataogi?”
Samina ne use dekha — hairat se. “Meri shaadi ke din? Kyun?”
“Kyunki mein jaanna chahta hoon,” Junaid ne kaha. “Mein jaanna chahta hoon ke tum kaun thi, us din se pehle. Aur us din ke baad kya hua.”
Samina ne gehri saans li. Us ne apni aankhein band kein, aur yaadein aane lageen — woh yaadein jinhein us ne saalon se dafan kar rakha tha.
“Meri ammi ko guzre do saal hue the,” us ne shuru kiya, us ki awaaz mein ek door ka dard tha. “Abba akelay the, aur unhein meri fikar thi. Un ke ek dost ne Khalid ka rishta bheja — Dubai mein kaam karta hai, achhi tankhwah hai, shareef larka hai. Abba ne mujh se poocha — sirf ek baar poocha: ‘Samina, tumhein koi aitraaz to nahi?'”
Woh ruki, us ki aankhon mein aansu the. “Mein ne kya kehti, Junaid? Meri umr chobis saal thi. Mere abba budhe the, akelay the. Mujhe laga — shayad yahi meri qismat hai. Mein ne haan keh diya. Bas, itni si baat thi. Koi mohabbat nahi, koi chahat nahi — sirf haan.”
“Aur shaadi ke din?” Junaid ne poocha, narmi se.
“Shaadi ke din mein dulhan bani bethi thi,” Samina ne kaha, “aur mein soch rahi thi — meri ammi hotin to kya kehtin? Woh kehtin, ‘Samina, dulhan to khush hoti hai, tum ro kyun rahi ho?’ Lekin mein ro nahi rahi thi. Mein… khaali thi. Jaise mere andar kuch tha hi nahi. Khalid ne mera haath pakda tha — nikah ke baad — aur un ke haath thande the. Unhon ne kaha tha, ‘Ghabrao mat, mein tumhara khayal rakhunga.’ Aur unhon ne rakha bhi — khayal rakha. Paise bheje, ghar banwaya, izzat di. Lekin Junaid…” Us ki awaaz toot gayi. “Unhon ne kabhi mera dil nahi poocha. Kabhi nahi poocha ke Samina, tum khush ho?”
Junaid ne us ka haath pakda — mazbooti se. “Ab mein pooch raha hoon. Samina, tum khush ho?”
Samina ne us ki aankhon mein dekha — aur us ne pehli baar, sach mein pehli baar, kaha: “Haan. Aaj raat, is waqt — mein khush hoon.”
Junaid ki aankhein bhar aayeen. “Bas. Mujhe aur kuch nahi chahiye.”
Lekin Samina ki baat abhi khatm nahi hui thi. “Junaid, tumhein pata hai — jab mein is ghar mein aayi thi, tum pandra saal ke the. Ek dubla patla larka, hamesha kitaabon mein dooba hua. Mujhe yaad hai, pehle din jab mein ne khana banaya tha, tum ne kaha tha — ‘Bhabhi, aap ke haath mein ammi jaisa zaiqa hai.'”
Junaid muskuraya — aansuon ke saath. “Mujhe yaad hai. Aur mujhe yeh bhi yaad hai ke tum ne us din mujhe apne hisse ki mithai de di thi — kaha tha, ‘Tum kha lo, tumhein taaqat ki zaroorat hai, padhna hai tumhein.'”
“Dekha?” Samina ne kaha. “Tumhein sab yaad hai.”
“Har pal yaad hai,” Junaid ne kaha. “Tum ne mujhe kabhi devar nahi samjha — tum ne mujhe apna samjha. Jab mein beemar padta tha, tum raat bhar mere sar par patti rakhti theen. Jab mere exam hote the, tum subah jaldi uth kar mere liye nashta banati theen. Tum… tum meri ammi ban gayi theen, Samina. Aur phir, pata nahi kab, tum kuch aur ban gayeen.”
Samina ne sar jhuka liya. “Mujhe maaf kar do. Mein ne tumhein kabhi bataya nahi—”
“Batane ki zaroorat nahi thi,” Junaid ne kaha. “Mohabbat batayi nahi jati, Samina. Woh mehsoos ki jati hai. Aur mein ne mehsoos ki thi — har baar jab tum mere liye chae banati theen, har baar jab tum meri fikar karti theen. Mein bas… mein bas samajh nahi paya tha ke woh ehsaas kya tha. Ab samjha hoon.”
Dono khamosh ho gaye. Baahar barish phir se tez hone lagi thi — jaise aasman un ki baaton ko sun raha ho.
“Junaid,” Samina ne kaha, “mujhe ek baat ka darr hai.”
“Kya?”
“Log.” Samina ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein sharam thi. “Nazia, Bibi Zahra, Chacha Bashir — poora mohalla. Agar kisi ko pata chal gaya… to woh mujhe kya kahenge? Ek bewaafa biwi? Ek besharam aurat?”
Junaid ne us ka chehra apne haathon mein liya. “Samina, suno. Log to baatein karte hain — achhe par bhi, bure par bhi. Lekin log tumhare dil mein nahi rehte. Tum rehti ho. Aur tum jaanti ho ke tum kaun ho. Tum ne koi gunaah nahi kiya — tum ne sirf mohabbat ki hai. Aur mohabbat karna gunaah nahi hai.”
“Lekin Khalid—” Samina ne shuru kiya.
“Khalid mere bhai hain,” Junaid ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein dard tha. “Aur mein un se mohabbat karta hoon. Jo hum ne kiya hai, us ka bojh mere dil par bhi hai. Lekin Samina — kya tum ne kabhi socha hai ke Khalid ne tumhare saath insaaf kiya hai? Chaar saal se woh tumhein akela chhod kar gaye hain. Kya biwi ka haq sirf paise hain? Kya us ka dil nahi dhadakta? Kya use saath ki zaroorat nahi hoti?”
Samina khamosh ho gayi. Us ne kabhi is tarah nahi socha tha — us ne hamesha Khalid ko sahi samjha tha, aur khud ko ghalat. Lekin ab, Junaid ke alfaaz mein use ek nayi roshni nazar aa rahi thi.
“Tum theek keh rahe ho,” us ne aahista se kaha. “Lekin phir bhi… mujhe waqt chahiye. Is sab ko samajhne ke liye, qubool karne ke liye.”
“Jitna waqt chahiye, le lo,” Junaid ne kaha. “Mein kahin nahi ja raha.”
Samina ne apna sar us ke kandhe par rakh diya. Junaid ne use apni baahon mein liya — aahista, izzat se. Dono ki dhadkanein ek ho gayeen. Baahar barish ho rahi thi, andar do dil dhadak rahe the.
“Junaid,” Samina ne kaha, aankhein band kiye, “tumhein pata hai — chhe saal se mein ne kisi ke kandhe par sar nahi rakha tha.”
“Ab rakh liya karo,” Junaid ne kaha, us ke baalon par bosa dete hue. “Yeh kandha tumhara hai.”
Aur is tarah, aadhi raat ki guftagu mein, do roohein ek doosre ko aur gehraayi se samajhne lageen — na sirf mohabbat mein, dard mein bhi, yaadon mein bhi, khwabon mein bhi. Yeh woh guftagu thi jo unhein hamesha yaad rahegi — kyun ke is mein unhon ne ek doosre ko nanga dekha tha, rooh tak.
Raat gehra rahi thi. Mombatti ki roshni kamre mein naram saye bana rahi thi, aur baahar barish ki awaaz ek sangeet ki tarah baj rahi thi — kabhi tez, kabhi halki, lekin musalsal.
Samina bistar par leti thi, Junaid us ke paas. Dono ke darmiyan ab koi faasla nahi tha — na jism ka, na dil ka. Junaid ne Samina ke baal khole the — woh dhalili choti jo us ne subah baandhi thi, ab khul kar us ke kandhon par bikhre hue the, kaale, lambe, mombatti ki roshni mein chamakte hue.
“Tumhare baal,” Junaid ne kaha, un mein ungliyan pherte hue, “barish ki raat jaise hain. Kaale, gehre, aur… khoobsurat.”
Samina ne us ki taraf dekha, us ki aankhon mein sharam thi, lekin us se zyada kuch aur tha — ek chahat, jo ab chhupne ka naam nahi le rahi thi. “Junaid, mein… mein darti hoon.”
“Kis se?” Junaid ne poocha, us ke chehre par haath pherte hue.
“Khud se,” Samina ne kaha, sachchai se. “Mein ne kabhi apne aap ko is tarah nahi dekha. Mein hamesha… hamesha band rahi. Biwi, bhabhi, zimmedaari. Aaj pehli baar mein sirf Samina hoon. Aur mujhe nahi pata ke Samina kaise hoti hai.”
“To aao, mil kar dekhte hain,” Junaid ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Mein bhi pehli baar Junaid hoon — sirf Junaid, na devar, na bhai, na student. Bas ek insaan, jo ek aur insaan se mohabbat karta hai.”
Us ne Samina ka haath apne haath mein liya, aur us ki hatheli par ek bosa diya — naram, aahista. Samina ne ek gehri saans li. Us ke jism mein ek lehar daudi — aisi lehar jo us ne pehle kabhi mehsoos nahi ki thi. Khalid ke saath us ki zindagi mein qurbat thi, lekin woh qurbat farz jaisi thi — waqt par, tareeqe se, khamoshi se. Yeh kuch aur tha. Yeh zinda tha.
Junaid ne us ke chehre ko apne haathon mein liya, aur us ki aankhon mein dekha. “Agar tum kaho ruko, to mein ruk jaunga,” us ne kaha. “Har pal, har saans mein — tumhari marzi sab se pehle.”
Samina ne us ki aankhon mein dekha, aur us ne wahan koi jaldbaazi nahi dekhi, koi zabardasti nahi dekhi. Us ne sirf intezaar dekha — mohabbat bhara intezaar.
“Mat ruko,” us ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein ek nayi himmat thi. “Aaj raat mat ruko.”
Aur phir, aahista aahista, jaise barish ke pehle qatre zameen par girte hain — naram, khamosh, lekin zameen ko badal dete hain — un ki qurbat badhne lagi.
Junaid ne Samina ke maathe par bosa diya, phir us ki aankhon par — un aankhon par jo chhe saal se ro rahi theen, aur aaj pehli baar khushi se chamak rahi theen. Phir us ke gaalon par, us ki thhodi par — har bosa ek dua ki tarah, har chhuan ek wada ki tarah.
Samina ne apni aankhein band kar leen, aur us ne khud ko us ke hawale kar diya — poori tarah, be-khauf. Us ke haath Junaid ke baalon mein the, us ki saansein tez ho rahi theen, us ka dil dhadak raha tha — itni zor se ke use laga ke baahar barish ki awaaz bhi us mein doob jayegi.
Junaid ka har lamha izzat se bhara tha. Woh jaldi nahi kar raha tha — woh har pal ko jee raha tha, har ehsaas ko mehsoos kar raha tha. Us ne Samina ke kandhon se dupatta hataya — aahista, us ki ijazat se — aur us ki gardan par apne hont rakhe. Samina ne ek siski li — dard ki nahi, khushi ki.
“Samina,” Junaid ne kaha, us ki gardan mein munh chhupaye, “tum itni naram ho, jaise barish ke baad ki mitti.”
Samina ne us ke sar ko apne haathon mein liya, use upar uthaya, aur us ki aankhon mein dekha. “Aur tum,” us ne kaha, “tum barish jaise ho — jo aati hai, aur sab kuch dho deti hai.”
Un ke hont mile — pehli baar, poori tarah, be-rok. Yeh bosa un bosoon jaisa nahi tha jo Samina ne pehle kabhi mehsoos kiye the. Yeh bosa ek iqraar tha — chhe saal ke intezaar ka, chhe saal ke dard ka, chhe saal ki mohabbat ka. Samina ne us bose mein apna sab kuch de diya — apna darr, apni sharam, apna raaz, apna dil.
Raat aagay badhi. Mombatti pighal rahi thi, us ka mom beh raha tha — jaise waqt beh raha tha. Baahar barish jaari thi, bijli kadak rahi thi, lekin kamre mein sirf do dilon ki dhadkan thi — ek saath, ek taal par.
Junaid ne Samina ko apni baahon mein liya, aur us ne mehsoos kiya ke woh kaanp rahi thi — thand se nahi, ehsaas se. Us ne use aur mazbooti se pakda, use apni garmi di, apna sukoon diya.
“Mein yahan hoon,” us ne kaha. “Tumhare saath hoon. Kahin nahi jaunga.”
Samina ne us ke seene par sar rakha, us ki dhadkan suni — tez, zinda, sachchi. “Mein ne kabhi nahi socha tha,” us ne kaha, “ke mein itni khush ho sakti hoon. Itni… zinda.”
“Tum zinda thi, Samina,” Junaid ne kaha, us ke baalon mein ungliyan pherte hue. “Bas tumhein yaad nahi tha.”
Aur is tarah, barish ki us raat mein, do roohein ek hueen — na sirf jism se, dil se bhi, rooh se bhi. Yeh woh qurbat thi jo sirf mohabbat de sakti hai — woh mohabbat jo intezaar karti hai, jo izzat karti hai, jo aazaad karti hai.
Mombatti bujh gayi. Lekin kamre mein andhera nahi tha — kyun ke un ke dilon mein roshni thi. Aur baahar, barish ke qatrey khidki par gir rahe the — pehli barish ke qatre, jo zameen ko naya jeevan dete hain.
Raat aadhi guzar chuki thi, lekin un ke liye waqt ka koi hisaab nahi tha. Samina ne nayi mombatti jalayi thi — teesri — aur us ki roshni mein kamra phir se naram ho gaya tha. Dono bistar par letay the, ek doosre ki baahon mein, khamosh. Khamoshi mein bhi baatein hoti hain — aur un ki khamoshi mein poori kahani thi.
“Junaid,” Samina ne kaha, us ke seene par ungli se naqsh banate hue, “tumhein pata hai, mein ne kabhi nahi socha tha ke mein tumhein yeh sab bataungi. Woh khat… woh to meri qabr tak jaana tha mere saath.”
“Ab woh qabr mein nahi jayega,” Junaid ne kaha. “Ab woh hum dono ke darmiyan hai — zinda.”
Samina ne sar uthaya, us ki taraf dekha. “Tumhein dukh nahi hua? Yeh jaan kar ke tumhari bhabhi… ke mein…”
“Mujhe dukh hua,” Junaid ne sach kaha. “Lekin tum par nahi — tumhare liye. Chhe saal tak tum ne jo dard saha, jo tanhai sahi, us par dukh hua. Samina, tum ne khud ko itni badi saza kyun di?”
“Kyunki mein darti thi,” Samina ne kaha. “Mujhe lagta tha ke agar mein ne apne ehsaas ko maan liya, to mein toot jaungi. To mein ne use dafan kar diya. Lekin dafan cheezein marti nahi hain, Junaid. Woh sirf… intezaar karti hain.”
Junaid ne use apne qareeb kiya, us ke maathe par bosa diya. “Ab intezaar khatm.”
Samina ne aankhein band kein. Us ke dil mein ek ajeeb si khushi thi — aur us ke saath ek dard bhi. “Junaid, ek baat poochun?”
“Poochho.”
“Agar… agar mein ne tumhein yeh khat na dikhaya hota, to kya tum phir bhi…?” Woh ruk gayi.
Junaid samajh gaya. “Tum pooch rahi ho ke kya meri mohabbat us khat ki mohtaaj thi?” Us ne sar hila diya. “Nahi, Samina. Mein tum se mohabbat karta tha — us se pehle ke mein ne khat padha. Khat ne sirf mujhe tumhara dard dikhaya. Meri mohabbat to tab se thi jab mein ne tumhein pehli baar dekha tha — asal mein dekha tha, us shaam jab tum ne kaha tha ‘mein theek hoon’ aur tumhari awaaz ne tumhara saath nahi diya tha.”
Samina ki aankhein bhar aayeen. “Tum ne tab se…?”
“Tab se,” Junaid ne kaha. “Lekin mein ne kabhi kuch nahi kaha, kyun ke mein jaanta tha ke tum tayyar nahi thi. Mein intezaar kar raha tha — tumhare liye, tumhari marzi ke liye. Aur aaj raat, tum ne apni marzi se mujhe chuna. Is se badi khushi mere liye koi nahi ho sakti.”
Samina ne use dekha — aur us ne mehsoos kiya ke us ka dil bhar aaya hai, itna ke woh behne wala tha. Us ne Junaid ko apne qareeb kiya, aur is baar us ne pehel ki — us ne us ke hontoon par apne hont rakhe, gehraayi se, chahat se, us chahat se jo ab kisi parda ke peechay nahi thi.
Raat phir se un ki ho gayi. Is baar un ki qurbat mein koi jhijhak nahi thi, koi darr nahi tha — sirf mohabbat thi, khaalis mohabbat. Junaid ne Samina ke jism ke har hisse ko izzat di — har chhuan mein pyaar tha, har bose mein dua thi. Aur Samina ne pehli baar apne jism ko mehsoos kiya — na farz ke roop mein, na zimmedaari ke roop mein, sirf apne roop mein.
Us ne Junaid ke haathon ko apne haathon mein liya, unhein apne chehre par rakha. “Yeh haath,” us ne kaha, “inhon ne aaj mujhe zinda kiya hai.”
“Aur tumhare haathon ne,” Junaid ne kaha, “mujhe insaan banaya hai.”
Un ki saansein ek ho gayeen, un ke dil ek taal par dhadakne lage. Baahar barish apne urooj par thi — musladhaar, be-inteha, jaise aasman ne apne saare aansu baha diye hon. Bijli baar baar kadakti thi, aur har chamak mein un ke chehre roshan hote — khushi se, mohabbat se, sukoon se.
Aur phir, aahista aahista, toofan thamne laga — baahar bhi, aur andar bhi. Un ki qurbat apne urooj ko chhu kar, ek gehre sukoon mein utar aayi. Dono ek doosre ki baahon mein letay the, pasine se bheegay hue, saansein tez, lekin dil mutmain.
Yeh woh lamha tha — urooj ke baad ka khamosh lamha, jab alfaaz ki zaroorat nahi hoti, jab sirf maujoodgi kaafi hoti hai.
Samina ne Junaid ke seene par sar rakha, us ki dhadkan suni — dheemi, gehra, mutmain. Us ne apni aankhein band kein, aur us ke chehre par ek muskurahat thi — aisi muskurahat jo us ne saalon se nahi muskurayi thi.
“Junaid,” us ne kaha, aahista se, “thank you.”
“Kis liye?”
“Is liye ke tum ne mujhe majboor nahi kiya. Is liye ke tum ne intezaar kiya. Is liye ke tum ne mujhe… mujhe chuna nahi — mujhe chune diya.”
Junaid ne us ke baalon mein ungliyan pherein. “Aur tum ne mujhe sab se qeemti tohfa diya, Samina.”
“Kya?”
“Apna bharosa.”
Samina ne us ki taraf dekha, aur us ne us ki aankhon mein aansu dekhe — khushi ke aansu. Us ne unhein apne hontoon se ponchha — namkeen, lekin meethe.
“So jao,” Junaid ne kaha. “Raat bohat ho gayi hai.”
“Nahi,” Samina ne kaha, us ke seene se lipat te hue. “Mein sona nahi chahti. Agar mein so gayi, to mujhe darr hai ke mein jaagun gi to yeh sab khwab hoga.”
“To phir jaagte raho,” Junaid ne kaha, use apni baahon mein samet te hue. “Mein bhi jaagta rahunga. Hum dono jaagenge, aur dekhenge ke yeh khwab hai ya haqeeqat.”
Lekin neend ko kaun rok saka hai? Aahista aahista, dono ki aankhein band hone lageen. Samina Junaid ki baahon mein so gayi — pehli baar saalon mein, be-fikar, be-darr, sukoon se. Us ke chehre par muskurahat thi. Junaid use dekhta raha, jab tak us ki apni aankhein band nahi ho gayeen.
Baahar barish ab halki ho gayi thi — phuar, naram, jaise aasman unhein lori suna raha ho. Mombatti bujh gayi thi. Kamre mein andhera tha, lekin un ke dilon mein roshni thi.
Aur is tarah, be-inteha raat guzar gayi — mohabbat mein, sukoon mein, ek doosre ki baahon mein.
Raat ke chaar baje Samina ki aankh khuli. Kamre mein gehra andhera tha — mombatti kab ki bujh chuki thi. Us ke paas Junaid so raha tha, us ka ek haath us ke upar tha, us ki saansein dheemi aur gehra theen. Baahar barish ruk gayi thi — poori tarah. Sirf chhat se tapakti boondon ki awaaz aa rahi thi, kabhi kabhi.
Samina ne use dekha — andheray mein us ka chehra dhundla tha, lekin us ki maujoodgi mehsoos ho rahi thi, garm, zinda. Us ne apna haath us ke baalon mein phera — aahista, taake woh jaag na jaye. Us ke dil mein ek ajeeb si khushi thi — aur us ke saath ek darr bhi, jo abhi tak poori tarah gaya nahi tha.
“Ab kya hoga?” us ne khud se poocha, andheray mein. “Subah hogi, din niklega, duniya jaag jayegi. Aur hum? Hum kya karenge?”
Us ne Junaid ko dekha — itna sukoon se so raha tha, jaise us ke dil mein koi bojh na ho. Samina ko rashk aaya — jawani ka rashk, be-fikri ka rashk. Phir us ne apne aap ko samjhaya — us ka bojh bhi hai, bas woh use chhupata hai. Mard apna dard chhupate hain — yahi to seekha hai unhon ne.
Tabhi door se azaan ki awaaz aayi — Fajr ki azaan, halki, door masjid se. “Assalatu khairum minan naum.” Namaz neend se behtar hai.
Samina uth kar beth gayi. Us ne Junaid ko aahista se hilaya. “Junaid. Junaid, utho.”
Junaid ne aankhein kholeen — neend mein, lekin muskurate hue. “Samina,” us ne kaha, us ka haath pakadte hue. “Tum theek ho?”
“Haan,” Samina ne kaha. “Lekin… subah hone wali hai. Tumhein apne kamre mein jana chahiye.”
Junaid samajh gaya. Woh uth kar beth gaya. “Haan. Tum theek keh rahi ho.” Us ne apne kapde sambhale. “Lekin pehle…”
“Pehle kya?”
“Pehle hum baat karenge,” Junaid ne kaha. “Is baare mein ke aagay kya hoga. Kyun ke mein nahi chahta ke subah ki roshni mein hum dono anjaan ban jayein.”
Samina ne sar hila diya. Dono bistar par bethe — ab kapde pehne hue, faasle par, jaise raat kabhi aayi hi na ho. Lekin raat aayi thi — aur us ne sab kuch badal diya tha.
“Samina,” Junaid ne kaha, “mujhe ek baat batani hai. Mere dost Fawad ne mujh se poocha tha — ‘Junaid, tum aaj kal ghar zyada jate ho, hostel kam rehte ho. Kya baat hai?’ Mein ne use kuch nahi bataya. Lekin us ne meri aankhon mein dekh kar kaha — ‘Lagta hai, tumhein koi mil gaya hai.'”
Samina ne use dekha. “Tum ne kya kaha?”
“Mein ne kaha — ‘Haan, mil gaya hai. Lekin woh meri nahi hai — abhi nahi.'” Junaid ne us ka haath pakda. “Samina, mein tumhein koi jhoota wada nahi dunga. Mein nahi kahunga ke sab theek ho jayega, ke duniya humein qubool kar legi. Shayad na kare. Lekin mein tumhein yeh wada deta hoon — mein tumhara saath nahi chhodunga. Chahe haalaat jaise bhi hon.”
Samina ki aankhein bhar aayeen. “Junaid, tum jawan ho. Tumhari poori zindagi aagay hai. Mein… mein tum se chhe saal badi hoon. Mein ek shaadi shuda aurat hoon. Log kya kahenge? Tumhare bhai kya kahenge?”
“Logon ki baatein to hawa hain, Samina,” Junaid ne kaha. “Aaj hain, kal nahi hongi. Lekin jo humare darmiyan hai — woh hawa nahi hai. Woh zameen hai. Mazboot zameen.”
“Aur Khalid?” Samina ne poocha, us ki awaaz mein dard tha.
Junaid khamosh ho gaya. Phir us ne kaha: “Khalid mere bhai hain. Aur mein un se mohabbat karta hoon. Jo hua hai, us ka ehsaas mujhe bhi hai. Lekin Samina — kya tum ne kabhi socha hai ke Khalid ne tumhare saath kya kiya hai? Unhon ne tumhein ek ghar mein band kar diya, paise bhejte rahe, aur khud door rahe. Kya yeh insaaf hai?”
“Yeh un ki majboori thi,” Samina ne kaha, lekin us ki awaaz mein pehle jaisa yaqeen nahi tha.
“Shayad,” Junaid ne kaha. “Lekin tumhari kya majboori thi? Tum ne kya gunaah kiya tha jo tumhein chaar saal tak tanhai ki saza mili?”
Samina khamosh ho gayi. Us ne kabhi is tarah nahi socha tha. Us ne hamesha apne aap ko qismat ka mara samjha tha — lekin ab use lag raha tha ke shayad qismat ne nahi, insaanon ne use mara tha.
“Junaid,” us ne kaha, “tum mujh se ek wada karo.”
“Kaho.”
“Apni padhai poori karo,” Samina ne kaha, us ki aankhon mein dekhte hue. “MA karo, ustad bano, ya jo bhi tumhara khwab hai — use poora karo. Meri wajah se apni zindagi barbaad mat karo. Agar… agar humara koi mustaqbil hai, to woh tumhari kamyabi par bane ga, tumhari qurbani par nahi.”
Junaid ne use dekha — aur us ki aankhon mein izzat thi, behad izzat. “Wada,” us ne kaha. “Mein apni padhai poori karunga. Aur tum…”
“Mein?” Samina ne poocha.
“Tum apne liye jeena seekho,” Junaid ne kaha. “Sirf Khalid ki biwi ban kar nahi, sirf meri… meri mohabbat ban kar nahi — Samina ban kar. Woh Samina jo kitaabein padhti thi, jo shayari samajhti thi, jo sapne dekhti thi. Usay wapas lao.”
Samina ne muskuraya — aansuon ke saath. “Tum to mere ustad ban gaye ho.”
“Tumhari shagird hone mein fakhr hai,” Junaid ne kaha, muskurate hue.
Azaan khatm ho gayi thi. Subah ki pehli roshni khidki se andar aa rahi thi — halki, sunehri. Dono jaante the ke waqt aa gaya tha.
Junaid uth khada hua. Us ne Samina ka haath apne hontoon se lagaya — ek aakhri bosa, izzat bhara. “Khuda hafiz,” us ne kaha.
“Khuda hafiz,” Samina ne kaha. “Aur Junaid…”
“Haan?”
“Shukriya. Is raat ke liye. Is zindagi ke liye.”
Junaid muskuraya, aur darwaze se nikal gaya — aahista, khamoshi se, jaise woh kabhi aaya hi na ho. Lekin Samina jaanti thi — woh aaya tha. Aur woh us ke dil mein reh gaya tha.
Samina ne darwaza band kiya — is baar kunddi lagayi. Phir woh bistar par let gayi, us jagah par jahan Junaid soya tha — abhi tak garm. Us ne aankhein band kein, aur us ki neend mein koi darr nahi tha.
Baahar, subah ho rahi thi. Nayi subah. Nayi zindagi.
Subah ki pehli kiran khidki se andar aayi to Samina ki aankh khuli. Pehle to use samajh nahi aaya ke woh kahan hai — phir us ne mehsoos kiya ke woh Junaid ki baahon mein hai, us ka sar us ke seene par hai, us ki dhadkan sun rahi hai. Aur tab use yaad aaya — raat, khat, iqraar, mohabbat.
Woh uth kar beth gayi. Kamre mein subah ki roshni thi — naram, sunehri. Baahar barish ruk gayi thi. Aasman saaf ho raha tha, badal chhat rahe the. Aur sab se badi baat — pankha chal raha tha. Bijli aa gayi thi.
Samina ne Junaid ko dekha — woh so raha tha, us ke chehre par sukoon tha, us ke hontoon par halki muskurahat thi. Woh itna masoom lag raha tha sote hue — jaise koi bacha. Samina ka dil bhar aaya. Us ne us ke maathe par aahista se bosa diya, aur uth khadi hui.
Woh bathroom gayi, chehra dhoya, aaine mein apne aap ko dekha. Us ka aks use ajeeb laga — wohi chehra, lekin aankhein badli hui theen. Un mein ab woh khaalipan nahi tha jo kal tak tha. Un mein zindagi thi.
Lekin us zindagi ke saath ek dard bhi tha — gunaah ka ehsaas. Woh Khalid ki biwi thi. Us ne apne shohar se bewafai ki thi. Chahe us ka dil chhe saal se tadap raha tha, chahe us ki mohabbat sachchi thi — haqeeqat yahi thi ke us ne woh kiya tha jo use nahi karna chahiye tha.
Woh neeche aayi, nashta banane lagi — aadat se, be-khayali mein. Jab chae ubal rahi thi, us ka phone baja. Screen par naam tha: “Khalid Dubai.”
Samina ka dil ruk gaya. Us ke haath kaanpne lage. Us ne phone uthaya.
“Hello?” us ki awaaz mein larzish thi.
“Samina, salaam,” Khalid ki awaaz aayi — thaki hui, door se. “Kaisi ho? Barish ho rahi hai wahan? Yahan khabar mein dekha, Lahore mein toofan aaya hai.”
Samina ne gehri saans li. “Walaikum salaam. Mein theek hoon. Haan, barish hui thi. Bijli gayi hui thi, abhi aayi hai.”
“Aur Junaid? Woh ghar par hai?”
“Haan,” Samina ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein kuch atak gaya. “Woh… woh yahin hai.”
“Achha hai,” Khalid ne kaha. “Us ka khayal rakhna. Woh bacha hai abhi.”
Samina khamosh ho gayi. Bacha. Junaid bacha nahi tha — woh mard tha, poora mard. Lekin Khalid ke liye woh hamesha bacha rahega.
“Samina,” Khalid ne kaha, “mein ne tumhein yeh batane ke liye phone kiya tha ke… shayad Eid par na aa sakun is saal. Company mein kaam zyada hai. Unhon ne kaha hai ke agar mein gaya, to meri jagah koi aur le lega.”
Samina ne aankhein band kar leen. Ek aur Eid. Ek aur saal. “Theek hai,” us ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein koi jazbaat nahi the.
“Tum naraaz ho?” Khalid ne poocha.
“Nahi,” Samina ne kaha. “Mein samajhti hoon. Kaam zaroori hai.”
“Paise bhej diye hain,” Khalid ne kaha. “Is mahine thode zyada bheje hain. Kuch apne liye le lena.”
Samina ne phone ko dekha — jaise woh us shakhs ko dekh sakti ho jo us se hazaaron meel door tha. “Khalid,” us ne kaha, aahista se, “kya tumhein kabhi… meri yaad aati hai?”
Ek pal khamoshi rahi. Phir Khalid ne kaha: “Yaad to aati hai, Samina. Lekin kya karun? Zimmedaari hai. Tum samajhti ho na?”
Samina ne phone kaat diya. Us ki aankhon se aansu behne lage — lekin woh aansu dukh ke nahi the, ghusse ke the. Zimmedaari. Hamesha zimmedaari. Kabhi mohabbat nahi, kabhi chahat nahi, kabhi… woh.
Us ne phone ko dekha — us mein Khalid ka number tha, “Khalid Dubai” ke naam se save kiya hua. Us ne socha — kitni ajeeb baat hai. Mera shohar mere phone mein ek naam hai, ek number hai. Woh mere bistar mein nahi hai, mere dastarkhwan par nahi hai, meri zindagi mein nahi hai. Woh sirf mere phone mein hai.
Us ne ghar ko dekha — yeh ghar jo Khalid ke paise se bana tha, jo us ke paise se chalta tha. Har deewar, har darwaza, har bartan — sab us ke paise ka tha. Lekin is ghar mein woh nahi tha. Aur Samina ne socha — kya ghar deewaron se banta hai? Ya logon se? Agar deewaron se banta hai, to mera ghar sab se mazboot hai. Lekin agar logon se banta hai, to mera ghar sab se khaali hai.
Us ne apne haathon ko dekha — woh haath jo subah Junaid ke haathon mein the. Us ne socha — Khalid ne kabhi mere haath nahi pakde — aise nahi. Unhon ne mera haath nikah mein pakda tha — rasam ke liye. Us ke baad kabhi nahi. Chaar saalon mein, unhon ne mujhe kabhi gale nahi lagaya — phone par bhi nahi keh sakte, lekin… unhon ne kabhi nahi kaha ke “Samina, mujhe tumhari yaad aati hai” — aise, dil se. Aaj jab mein ne poocha, to unhon ne kaha — “Yaad to aati hai, lekin zimmedaari hai.”
Zimmedaari. Samina ne is lafz ko apne munh mein dohraya — kadwa lafz. Us ne socha — kya mein sirf ek zimmedaari hoon? Kya meri zindagi ka matlab sirf yeh hai ke koi mere liye paise bheje, aur mein un paise se ghar chalau? Kya mein insaan nahi hoon? Kya mera dil nahi dhadakta?
Us ne khidki se baahar dekha — dhoop nikal rahi thi, barish ke baad ki dhoop, saaf aur sunehri. Us ne socha — barish ne sab kuch dho diya hai — galiyan, chaton, darakhton. Kaash mere dil ko bhi dho de. Kaash mein bhi nayi ho jaun.
Aur tab us ne mehsoos kiya — woh nayi ho gayi thi. Raat ne use naya kar diya tha. Us ne apne dil ki suni thi, apne haq ke liye khadi hui thi — pehli baar. Aur is mein koi sharam nahi thi. Yeh us ka haq tha — jeene ka haq.
Us ne mud kar dekha — Junaid darwaze par khada tha. Us ne sab sun liya tha.
“Samina,” us ne kaha, us ke paas aate hue.
“Mat kaho kuch,” Samina ne kaha, aansu ponchhte hue. “Please.”
Junaid ne use apni baahon mein liya — mazbooti se, pyaar se. Samina us ke seene se lag kar ro padi — khul kar, zor se, saalon ka dard bahar nikalte hue.
“Woh nahi aayega,” Samina ne kaha, rote hue. “Is Eid par bhi nahi. Shayad agle saal bhi nahi. Mein… mein us ki biwi hoon, Junaid. Lekin kya mein kabhi us ki biwi thi? Ya sirf… sirf ek zimmedaari thi, jise woh paise bhej kar nibhata hai?”
Junaid ne kuch nahi kaha. Us ne sirf use pakde rakha, use rone diya. Kabhi kabhi, alfaaz se zyada khamoshi kaam karti hai.
Jab Samina ka rona thama, us ne sar uthaya, Junaid ki taraf dekha. “Mujhe maaf kar do,” us ne kaha.
“Kis liye?”
“Is liye ke mein ne tumhein is mein ghaseeta. Tum jawan ho, tumhari zindagi aagay hai. Mein… mein tumhare liye bojh ban jaungi.”
Junaid ne us ka chehra apne haathon mein liya. “Samina, suno. Tum bojh nahi ho. Tum meri zindagi ho. Aur rahi baat aagay ki — to aagay hum dono mil kar dekhenge. Lekin ek baat yaad rakhna — jo raat guzri, us par tumhein sharminda hone ki zaroorat nahi hai. Tum ne apne dil ki suni. Aur dil ki sunna kabhi ghalat nahi hota.”
Samina ne use dekha — aur us ne mehsoos kiya ke us ka dard kam ho raha hai. Gunaah ka ehsaas abhi tha, lekin us ke saath ek aur ehsaas bhi tha — haq ka ehsaas. Us ne apne liye jiya tha, pehli baar. Aur is mein koi sharam nahi thi.
“Nashta karoge?” us ne poocha, halki si muskurahat ke saath.
Junaid hans pada. “Tumhare haath ka nashta? Hamesha.”
Dono ne mil kar nashta kiya — parathe, omelette, chae. Bijli aa gayi thi, pankha chal raha tha, baahar dhoop nikal rahi thi. Sab kuch normal tha — lekin kuch bhi normal nahi tha. Kyun ke dono jaante the ke raat ko jo hua tha, woh unhein hamesha ke liye badal gaya tha.
Nashtay ke baad, Junaid ne kaha: “Samina, mujhe hostel wapas jana hoga. Kal university mein class hai.”
Samina ka dil doob gaya. “Kab?”
“Aaj shaam ko.” Junaid ne us ka haath pakda. “Lekin mein wapas aaunga. Har hafte aaunga. Aur…”
“Aur?”
“Aur hum baat karenge,” Junaid ne kaha. “Is baare mein ke aagay kya karna hai. Kyun ke yeh raat sirf ek raat nahi thi, Samina. Yeh shuruaat thi.”
Samina ne sar hila diya. Us ke dil mein darr tha, lekin us ke saath ummeed bhi thi. Pehli baar saalon mein, us ke paas ummeed thi.
Shaam ko Junaid ka thaela tayyar tha. Woh darwaze par khada tha, jaane ke liye, lekin us ke qadam nahi uth rahe the. Samina us ke saamne khadi thi — us ki aankhon mein aansu the, lekin us ke chehre par ek sukoon tha jo pehle nahi tha.
“Samina,” Junaid ne kaha, “mein ne raat bhar socha hai. Aur mein ne ek faisla kiya hai.”
Samina ne use dekha. “Kya?”
“Mein tum se mohabbat karta hoon — yeh sach hai, aur yeh kabhi nahi badlega. Lekin mein tumhein kisi jhoot mein nahi rakhna chahta. Jo hum ne kiya, woh humare dilon se hua, aur mujhe us par koi pachtawa nahi hai. Lekin…” Woh ruka. “Lekin mein nahi chahta ke tum apne aap ko chor samjho. Tum chor nahi ho, Samina. Tum ek aurat ho, jis ne apne dil ki suni.”
Samina ki aankhein bhar aayeen. “To phir… aagay kya?”
“Aagay tumhara faisla hai,” Junaid ne kaha. “Mein ne tum se pehle bhi kaha tha — tumhari marzi sab se pehle. Agar tum chahti ho ke hum is raat ko apne dilon mein mehfooz rakhein, aur aagay apni apni zindagi jiyein — to mein usay qubool karunga. Aur agar tum chahti ho ke hum… ke hum koi raasta nikalein — to mein tumhare saath har raaste par chalunga.”
Samina ne gehri saans li. Us ne apne dil mein jhanka — wahan ab koi toofan nahi tha. Wahan ek gehra samandar tha, pur-sukoon, lekin gehra.
“Junaid,” us ne kaha, “tum ne mujhe sab se qeemti cheez di hai — apne aap ko pehchanne ka mauqa. Chhe saal se mein apne aap se bhaag rahi thi. Aaj mein ruk gayi hoon. Aur ruk kar, mein ne dekha hai ke mein kaun hoon.”
Woh khidki ke paas gayi, baahar dekha — shaam ho rahi thi, aasman mein halke badal the. “Mein Khalid ki biwi hoon. Yeh sach hai. Aur mein ne un se bewafai ki hai — yeh bhi sach hai. Mein is sach se nahi bhaagungi. Lekin ek aur sach bhi hai — Khalid ne mujh se bewafai ki hai, apne tareeqe se. Unhon ne mujhe paise diye, lekin waqt nahi diya. Ghar diya, lekin saath nahi diya. Woh mere shohar hain, lekin woh mere saath nahi hain. Aur mein… mein ab aur intezaar nahi karungi.”
Us ne mud kar Junaid ki taraf dekha. “Mein Khalid ko khat likhungi. Haan, ek aur khat — lekin is baar chhupane ke liye nahi, bhejne ke liye. Us mein mein unhein bataungi ke mein tanha hoon, ke mujhe un ki zaroorat hai, ke paise se ghar nahi chalta — saath se chalta hai. Mein unhein kahungi ke woh wapas aayein, ya mujhe apne paas bulayein. Aur agar woh na aayein, na bulayein…” Woh ruki. “To phir mein apni zindagi ka faisla khud karungi.”
Junaid ne use dekha — us ki aankhon mein izzat thi, fakhr tha. “Yeh tumhara faisla hai?”
“Yeh mera faisla hai,” Samina ne kaha, us ki awaaz mein taaqat thi. “Aur tumhare baare mein…”
Woh us ke paas aayi, us ka haath pakda. “Tum meri mohabbat ho, Junaid. Pehli mohabbat, sachchi mohabbat. Lekin mein tumhein kisi jhoot ki buniyaad par nahi rakhna chahti. Pehle mein apni zindagi ko seedha karungi — Khalid se baat karungi, apna haq maangungi. Aur phir… phir dekhenge ke qismat humein kahan le jati hai.”
Junaid ne sar hila diya. “Mein intezaar karunga, Samina. Chhe saal tum ne intezaar kiya — ab meri baari hai.”
Samina ne us ke gaal par haath rakha. “Tum bohat achhe ho, Junaid. Itne achhe ke mujhe darr lagta hai ke mein tumhare qabil nahi hoon.”
“Tum har qabil se zyada ho,” Junaid ne kaha, us ke haath par apna haath rakhte hue.
Phir us ne apna thaela uthaya. “Ab mujhe jana hoga. Hostel ka warden darwaza band kar dega.”
Samina use darwaze tak chhodne aayi. Baahar gali mein halki dhoop thi, zameen geeli thi, hawa mein mitti ki khushbu thi — barish ke baad ki khushbu.
“Apna khayal rakhna,” Samina ne kaha.
“Tum bhi,” Junaid ne kaha. Phir us ne ek kagaz nikala, us par kuch likha, aur Samina ko diya. “Yeh mera hostel ka pata hai. Aur yeh…” Us ne apna phone number bhi likha tha. “Jab bhi dil kare, phone kar lena. Chahe raat ke teen bajen.”
Samina ne kagaz liya, use seene se lagaya. “Junaid…”
“Haan?”
“Woh khat,” Samina ne kaha, “jo mein ne chhe saal pehle likha tha… mein ne use wapas sandooq mein rakh diya hai. Lekin is baar taala nahi lagaya.”
Junaid muskuraya. “Kyun?”
“Kyunki ab mujhe chhupane ki zaroorat nahi hai,” Samina ne kaha. “Ab woh khat meri kamzori nahi hai — meri taaqat hai. Us ne mujhe sikhaya ke mohabbat karna gunaah nahi hai. Gunaah hai — khud se jhoot bolna.”
Junaid ne use dekha, phir aagay badh kar us ke maathe par ek bosa diya — sab ke saamne, gali mein, be-khauf. “Khuda hafiz, Samina.”
“Khuda hafiz, Junaid.”
Junaid chala gaya — us ke qadam tez the, us ke chehre par ummeed thi. Samina use dekhti rahi, jab tak woh gali ke mod par nahi mud gaya.
Phir woh andar aayi, darwaza band kiya, aur seedha apne kamre mein gayi. Us ne kagaz kalam uthaya, aur likhna shuru kiya:
*”Mere shohar Khalid…”*
Yeh khat chhe saal purane khat jaisa nahi tha. Yeh chhupane ke liye nahi tha. Yeh bhejne ke liye tha. Aur is mein Samina ne apna dil khol kar rakh diya — apni tanhai, apni zaroorat, apna haq.
Jab khat mukammal hua, Samina ne use lifafe mein daala, pata likha — Dubai ka pata — aur use apne purse mein rakh diya. Kal woh use post karegi.
Us raat, Samina akeli soyi — lekin us ki neend mein koi darr nahi tha, koi bojh nahi tha. Us ne faisla kar liya tha. Aur faisla karne ke baad, insaan ko neend aa jati hai.
Agli subah woh jaldi uth gayi. Us ne lifafa apne purse mein rakha, dupatta odha, aur ghar se nikli — post office ke liye. Gali mein subah ki ronak thi — bachche school ja rahe the, auratein darwazon par khadi baatein kar rahi theen, Chacha Bashir apni dukaan khol rahe the.
“Samina bibi, salaam!” Chacha Bashir ne kaha, muskurate hue. “Barish mein sab theek? Ghar mein paani to nahi bhara?”
“Walaikum salaam, chacha,” Samina ne kaha. “Sab theek hai. Aap ki dukaan? Suna tha paani bhar gaya tha.”
“Haan, thoda bhar gaya tha,” Chacha Bashir ne kaha, haath hilate hue. “Lekin ab saaf kar diya. Zindagi hai — kabhi dhoop, kabhi barish.”
Samina muskurayi. “Bilkul theek kaha, chacha.”
Woh aagay badhi. Bibi Zahra apne darwaze par khadi theen — unhon ne use dekha, aur muskurayein. “Samina, aaj bohat khush lag rahi ho. Kya baat hai?”
Samina ruk gayi. Us ne socha — kya bataye? Ke us ne apne dil ki suni hai? Ke us ne faisla kiya hai? Us ne sirf kaha: “Bas, barish ke baad hawa achhi lag rahi hai, bibi.”
“Allah khush rakhe,” Bibi Zahra ne kaha.
Post office pahunch kar Samina ne lifafa counter par diya. “Dubai jayega,” us ne kaha.
Clerk ne wazan kiya, ticket lagaya, mohar lagayi. “Ho gaya, bibi.”
Samina ne lifafe ko dekha — ab woh us ke haath mein nahi tha. Woh nikal chuka tha — us ke dil se, us ke ghar se, us ki zindagi se — ek naye safar par. Us ne gehri saans li. Us ke dil mein darr tha — lekin us ke saath ek ajeeb si aazadi bhi thi.
Wapas aate hue us ne Nazia ko phone kiya. “Nazia, tum free ho? Chae peene aaogi?”
“Abhi aayi!” Nazia ne kaha.
Us dopahar, dono ne saath mein chae pi — aur Samina ne pehli baar, kisi ke saamne, apne dil ki baat ki — poori nahi, lekin thodi. Us ne kaha: “Nazia, mein ne Khalid ko khat likha hai. Unhein kaha hai ke mujhe un ki zaroorat hai — paise ki nahi, un ki.”
Nazia ne use dekha — hairat se, phir khushi se. “Samina! Tum ne theek kiya! Mein tumhein saalon se keh rahi thi — apne haq ke liye bolo!”
Samina muskurayi. “Ab bol diya.”
Aur us shaam, jab woh apne kamre ki khidki ke paas khadi thi, us ne mehsoos kiya — woh ab woh Samina nahi thi jo hafte pehle thi. Woh badal gayi thi. Aur yeh tabdeeli us ne khud chuni thi.
Ek hafta guzar gaya.
Samina ne khat post kar diya tha — Dubai ke pate par. Ab woh intezaar kar rahi thi, lekin yeh intezaar pehle jaisa nahi tha. Pehle woh be-bas intezaar karti thi — kisi cheez ka, jo shayad kabhi na aaye. Ab woh apne faisle ke nateeje ka intezaar kar rahi thi — aur is mein farq tha. Be-bas intezaar mein insaan tootta hai; faisle ke intezaar mein insaan banta hai.
Junaid ka phone aaya tha — do baar. Pehli baar us ne kaha tha ke woh khairiyat se hostel pahunch gaya hai. Doosri baar us ne kaha tha ke us ne Faiz ka wohi sher apne professor ko sunaya tha, aur professor ne use shabaash di thi. Dono baar unhon ne zyada baat nahi ki — bas ek doosre ki awaaz suni, aur woh kaafi tha.
Nazia aayi thi — us ne Samina ko dekha tha, ghaur se, aur kaha tha: “Tum badal gayi ho, Samina. Tumhari aankhon mein woh baat wapas aa gayi hai jo shaadi se pehle thi.” Samina ne sirf muskuraya tha. Kuch baatein doston ko bhi nahi batayi jateen — woh dil mein rehti hain, jaise khat sandooq mein rehta hai.
Us shaam, jab Samina apne kamre ki khidki ke paas khadi thi, baahar phir se badal garajne lage. Monsoon ka doosra toofan aa raha tha. Hawa tez chalne lagi, darakht jhoomne lage, aur pehli boondein girne lageen — khidki ke sheeshe par, chhat par, gali mein.
Samina ne khidki kholi, aur barish ki boondein us ke chehre par aayeen — thandi, taaza, zinda. Us ne aankhein band kar leen, aur us ne mehsoos kiya ke woh muskura rahi hai.
Us ke peechay, almari ke upar, woh lakri ka sandooq abhi tak tha — khula hua, be-taala. Us mein woh purana khat tha, aur us ke saath ab ek naya kagaz bhi tha — Khalid ko likhe gaye khat ki naqal, jo Samina ne apne paas rakhi thi. Do khat — ek jo chhe saal tak chhupa raha, aur ek jo ab duniya ke saamne tha. Dono us ki kahani the — poori kahani.
Phone baja. Samina ne uthaya — Junaid tha.
“Samina,” us ki awaaz aayi, barish ki awaaz ke saath — lagta tha woh bhi baahar tha, barish mein. “Baahar dekho. Barish ho rahi hai.”
“Mein dekh rahi hoon,” Samina ne kaha, muskurate hue.
“Yaad hai woh raat?” Junaid ne poocha.
“Kaise bhool sakti hoon?” Samina ne kaha. “Woh raat to meri zindagi ban gayi hai.”
“Samina,” Junaid ki awaaz mein sanjeedgi aa gayi, “chahe jo bhi ho — chahe Khalid wapas aayein ya na aayein, chahe hum milein ya na milein — mein tum se ek baat kehna chahta hoon.”
“Kaho.”
“Tum ne mujhe sikhaya hai ke mohabbat ka matlab hai — intezaar karna, izzat karna, aur aazaad karna. Mein tumhein kabhi qaid nahi karunga, Samina. Tum jahan bhi ho, jaisi bhi ho — meri mohabbat tumhare saath hai.”
Samina ki aankhein bhar aayeen — lekin is baar woh aansu khushi ke the. “Aur tum ne mujhe sikhaya hai,” us ne kaha, “ke apne dil ki sunna gunaah nahi hai. Ke aurat sirf biwi ya bhabhi nahi hoti — woh insaan bhi hoti hai. Aur insaan ko jeene ka haq hai.”
Dono khamosh ho gaye — lekin yeh khamoshi pehle jaisi nahi thi. Pehle un ki khamoshi mein dard tha, darr tha. Ab un ki khamoshi mein sukoon tha, samajh thi.
“Khuda hafiz,” Junaid ne kaha.
“Khuda hafiz,” Samina ne kaha. “Aur Junaid…”
“Haan?”
“Barish mein bheegna mat. Sardi lag jayegi.”
Junaid hans pada — wohi hansi, wohi zindagi. “Tum bhi apna khayal rakhna, bhabhi… matlab, Samina.”
Phone kat gaya. Samina ne phone ko dekha, phir baahar barish ko dekha. Barish tez ho gayi thi — musladhaar, jaise us raat thi. Bijli kadki, lekin Samina nahi dari. Us ne khidki ko aur khol diya, aur barish ko andar aane diya — apne chehre par, apne haathon par, apne dil par.
Woh ab intezaar nahi kar rahi thi — na Khalid ka, na Junaid ka, na kisi ka. Woh jee rahi thi — apne liye, apne dil ke liye. Us ne faisla kar liya tha, aur faisle ke baad jo sukoon milta hai, woh us ke paas tha.
Baahar barish ho rahi thi — nayi barsaat. Aur Samina jaanti thi ke yeh barsaat us ke liye nayi zindagi layegi — chahe woh zindagi kaisi bhi ho. Kyun ke ab woh darti nahi thi. Ab woh bhaagti nahi thi. Ab woh sirf… thi. Samina thi. Poori, zinda, aazaad.
Us ne apne haathon ko dekha — wohi haath jo kabhi kaanpte the, aaj mazboot the. Us ne apne aks ko khidki ke sheeshe mein dekha — wohi chehra, lekin nayi aankhein. Aur us ne apne dil ko suna — wohi dhadkan, lekin nayi taal par. Us ne muskura kar aasmaan ki taraf dekha, aur barish ko apne chehre par mehsoos kiya — jaise koi purana dost mil gaya ho. Yeh thi us ki nayi zindagi — us ki apni, us ke faisle ki, us ki mohabbat ki.
Aur kahin door, hostel ki khidki par khada Junaid bhi barish dekh raha tha — aur muskura raha tha. Kyun ke woh jaanta tha ke us raat jo shuru hua tha, woh khatm nahi hua tha. Woh sirf… badal gaya tha. Ek nayi shakal mein, ek naye ehsaas mein, ek nayi barsaat mein.
Us ne apni diary nikali — wohi purani diary — aur us mein likha:
“Barish phir aa gayi hai,
Wohi boondein, wohi hawa.
Lekin ab mein akela nahi bheegta —
Mere saath us ki yaad hai,
Us ki muskurahat hai,
Us ka wada hai.
Us ne kaha tha — apne dil ki suno.
Mein ne suna hai.
Aur mera dil kehta hai —
Intezaar karo.
Mohabbat intezaar mangti hai,
Aur mein intezaar karunga —
Chahe barish ho ya dhoop,
Chahe din ho ya raat.
Kyun ke woh meri hai —
Meri Samina.”
Us ne diary band ki, aur barish ko dekhta raha. Us ke chehre par sukoon tha — woh sukoon jo sirf mohabbat de sakti hai, woh mohabbat jo maangti nahi, deti hai.
**Khatm Shud**