The Terrace Pact

Ek chhoti terrace. Low wall, water tank, do-teen potted plants, aur ek string of yellow bulbs jo dheere-dheere jal rahi hai. Aasman orange se indigo ki taraf badal raha hai.

AARTI (52), simple kurta mein, haath mein purane letters ka bundle liye khadi hai.

MEGHA (30), work clothes mein, dupatta kandhe par, tired smile ke saath terrace par aati hai.

POOJA (18), jeans aur dupatta mein, seedhi aur gusse mein, unke peeche aati hai.

Agar yeh family meeting hai na, toh main pehle hi bol deti hoon—mujhe overtime nahi mila.

Aur mujhe class presentation. So please, drama ka timer short rakhna.

Aarti un dono ko dekhti hai. Halki si muskaan, phir serious.

Drama nahi hai. Decision hai.

Kis cheez ka decision?

Aarti letters ke bundle ko tight pakad leti hai.

Is ghar mein ab pretend karna band.

Megha ka face tight ho jaata hai.

Aarti, seedha bolo. Kis baat ki pretending?

Pooja low wall ke paas jaakar khadi ho jaati hai.

Papa ke baare mein?

Silence.

Yellow bulbs ka light thoda warm lagne lagta hai.

Pooja, us aadmi ka naam leke kya hoga?

Truth mil jaayega. Bas itna.

Truth? Truth se ghar nahi chalta.

Jhooth se bhi nahi.

Aarti beech mein aati hai.

Bas. Dono.

Woh bundle ko dekhti hai, phir un dono ko.

Tum dono ko yahan isliye bulaya kyunki ab main aur nahi chup sakti.

Megha suspicious.

Chup kis baat pe?

Aarti ek lamba saans leti hai. Phir bundle khol deti hai.

Purane, folded letters.

Pooja ki aankhen widen.

Yeh kya hai?

Tumhare papa ke letters.

Megha ka reaction instant.

Kya?

Bahut saare the.

The? Matlab... the?

Haan.

Pooja aage badhti hai.

Papa ne likha tha?

Aarti nod karti hai.

Haan. Baar-baar.

Megha ek step piche.

Toh mujhe kabhi kyun nahi diye?

Aarti ka face guilt se bhara.

Kyunki us waqt mujhe laga main tum dono ko bachaa rahi hoon.

Bachaa rahi thi ya control kar rahi thi?

Aarti kuch nahi bolti.

Pooja ek letter utha leti hai.

Main padh sakti hoon?

Padh lo.

Pooja letter kholkar padhna shuru karti hai. Dheere-dheere uska gussa curiosity mein badalta hai.

“Aarti, main ja raha hoon. Is ghar mein meri awaaz kisi ko sunayi nahi deti. Main galat hoon, par main ghaas ki tarah kuchla ja raha hoon...”

Megha ka throat tight.

Chup.

“Megha ko bolna, main uska future block nahi karna chahta. Aur chhoti ko... use bolna ki woh meri tarah gussa kam aur sach zyada rakhe.”

Pooja ruk jaati hai. Letter ko dekhti hai.

Chhoti ko?

Tumhari baat kar raha tha.

Pooja ka gussa soft ho jaata hai.

Toh woh humein chhod ke bhi likhta tha?

Haan.

Aur main... un letters ko sambhaal ke rakh rahi thi.

Kyun?

Aarti ki aankhon mein aansu nahi, bas thakaan.

Kyunki main tum dono ko ek aur tootna nahi dekh sakti thi.

Aur phir... waqt nikal gaya.

Megha ek letter uthati hai. Haath kaanp rahe hain.

Itne saal...

Tumne humein sach se bachaya?

Nahi Megha.

Main dar gayi thi.

Silence.

Hawa terrace ke plants ko hilaati hai.

Pooja dheere se ek aur letter kholti hai.

Isme likha hai...

Woh padhte-padhte ruk jaati hai.

“Main chahta hoon ki meri betiyan mujhse na sahi, jhooth se toh azaad ho.”

Megha ki aankhon mein aansu aa jaate hain, lekin woh unhe rok leti hai.

Main move on kar gayi thi, Aarti.

Ya shayad bas pretend kar rahi thi.

Main truth maang rahi thi.

Par truth milna aur truth ko jhelna same nahi hota.

Aarti letters ka bundle un dono ke beech terrace floor par rakh deti hai.

Toh ab decide tum karo.

Forgiveness earned hoti hai...

ya inherited?

Teeno ek dusre ko dekhte hain.

Orange sky ab indigo ho chuka hai. Yellow bulbs aur bright lagte hain.

Megha dheere se ek letter uthati hai, fold karke Pooja ko deti hai.

Kal college ke baad...

saath padhte hain.

Pooja ek beat leti hai. Phir nod karti hai.

Theek hai.

Aarti water mug uthakar potted plant ko halka sa paani deti hai.

Bas.

Aaj ke liye itna hi sach kaafi hai.

Teeno terrace par khadi rehti hain—na perfect, na repaired.

Bas honest.

THE END.