Bangalore PG, Filter Coffee aur Tum

Aur phir shuru hua. Books, authors, favourite quotes. Woh raat 11 baje tak hum Anna ke stall pe khade rahe — usne doosri coffee offer ki, maine mana nahi kiya.

Jab main apni PG pahunchi, toh Auntie ne darwaza khola — woh hamari PG owner thi, 50-something, garam aadmi, strict bhi, loving bhi.

"Kahan thi itni der, Priya? Phone bhi nahi uthaya."

"Sorry Auntie, office se late ho gaya."

"Office se late? Coffee stall pe khadi thi maine dekha."

Mera chehra laal ho gaya. Auntie ko sab pata hota tha — woh building ki har khabar rakhti thi.

"Woh... ek friend mil gaya tha."

"Friend? Woh ladka jo roz tumhare saath coffee peeta hai?"

"Aapne dekha?"

"Aur kya! Main PG chalati hoon, CBI nahi. Lekin sun lo — achha ladka lagta hai. Lekin hadd mein rehna. Samjhi?"

Maine sir hilaya, sharm se. Lekin mann mein... mann mein kuch alag sa mehsoos ho raha tha.

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Chapter 3: PG Wali Life

Shanti Nivas — naam toh shanti ka tha, lekin andar pure drama tha.

Teen floors. 20 rooms. 40 ladkiyaan. Aur ek Auntie jo sabko apni beti ki tarah treat karti thi.

Meri room partner Riya thi — Mumbai se, investment banker, roz subah 5 baje uthti thi gym jaane ke liye. Main uske alarm se jaag jaati thi, phir so nahi paati.

"Priya, tera woh developer friend aaj ayega?" Riya ne ek din poocha, mirror mein lipstick lagate hue.

"Kaisa friend?"

"Arre, woh jiske saath roz coffee peeti hai. BTM ke chakkar mein sabko pata hai."

"Kya?"

"Yaar, Bangalore chhota hai. Plus, tum dono Anna ke stall pe itni der tak... obviously log notice karenge."

Maine facepalm kiya. Yeh toh problem ho gayi.

Lekin problem nahi hui. Kyunki agle din, jab main coffee stall pe gayi, toh Rohan ne kaha —

"Tumhe pata hai, Kiran ne mujhe kitna tease kiya?"

"Kya? Tumhe bhi?"

"Usne dekha tha humein. 'Bhai, woh QA wali ladki hai na? Pakka interest hai tujhe.' Maine kaha, 'Chup kar, woh bas friend hai.'"

"Friend?" Maine poocha, aur phir realize kiya ki maine kitni expectant awaaz mein poocha tha.

Rohan ne meri taraf dekha. Woh filter coffee ki steam ke peeche se, uski aankhen kuch keh rahi thi.

"Priya, main... main sach kehta hoon. Tum sirf friend nahi ho. Lekin main nahi jaanta ki... ki kaise..."

"Mysuru jaana hai yaad hai?" maine kaha, halki si smile ke saath. "Pehle woh. Phir baaki sab."

Usne kuch der tak dekha, phir muskuraya. "Fair enough. Lekin... kal library chalogi? Cubbon Park wali? Sunday hai."

"Books?"

"Ha. Aur kuch bhi nahi."

Maine haan keh di. Kyunki books ke saath koi galat decision nahi hota. Right?

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Chapter 4: Library aur Uske Baad

Sunday. Cubbon Park ki State Central Library.

Woh building dekh ke hi dil khush ho gaya. British era ki architecture, high ceilings, wooden shelves, aur woh smell — purani kitabon ki smell. Mysuru ki library ki yaad dila di.

Rohan pehle se hi wahan tha, ek table pe baitha, doosri chair pull out ki hui.

"Late ho gayi?" usne poocha.

"15 minutes. Fashionably late."

"Nice. Main toh soch raha tha tum aayi nahi."

"Main aati hoon. Books ke liye toh zaroor."

Humne ek shelf se books uthayi — main poetry section gayi, woh fiction mein ghus gaya. Phir wapas aake ek doosre se apni findings share ki.

"Ye dekho," usne kaha, ek purani copy of 'The Prophet' by Kahlil Gibran uthate hue. "Yeh book... meri mumma ki favourite thi."

"Tumhari mumma?"

"Ha. Unhone mujhe yeh padhne ko di thi jab main chhota tha. Ab woh nahi hain... 5 saal ho gaye."

Maine kuch nahi kaha. Bas uski taraf dekha. Uske chehre pe woh dard tha jo words se chhupa nahi sakta.

"Sorry," maine kaha.

"Nahi nahi, it's okay. Woh chahti thi ki main writer banu. Lekin maine engineering le li. Ab kabhi kabhi sochta hoon ki unhe achha lagega ki main kam se kam books padhta hoon."

"Tum writer ban sakte ho. Part-time. Blog, ya..."

"Maybe. Tum? Tum writer hona chahti thi?"

"Poet. Lekin QA engineer ban gayi. Practical choice."

"Wohi na. Practical choices. Lekin kabhi kabhi..."

"Kabhi kabhi?"

"Kabhi kabhi practicality se zyada zaroori hota hai ki hum khush hain."

Hum shaam tak wahan rahe. Kuch padha, kuch baat ki, kuch sirf baithe rahe. Shaam ke 5 baje, jab library band hone wali thi, tab humne exit liya.

Cubbon Park ke andar se ja rahe the. Shaam ki hawa, pedon ki chhan, aur door se traffic ki awaaz.

"Priya," Rohan ne kaha.

"Hmm?"

"Main... main tumhe kuch dikhana chahta hoon."

"Kya?"

Usne apna haath badhaya. Open palm. Waiting.

Maine dekha — uski aankhen, woh nervousness, woh hope. Aur maine apna haath uske haath mein rakha dya.

Garam tha. Secure tha. Perfect tha.

Humne haath pakad kar chalna shuru kiya. Koi nahi tha aas paas. Bas hum dono, ek dusre ke haath mein, chup-chap chal rahe the.

"Yeh galat toh nahi hai na?" usne poocha.

"Kya?"

"Ki main tumhe pasand karne laga hoon. Ki main roz tumse milne aata hoon. Ki main... ki main sochta hoon ki shayad, ek din, hum Mysuru-Hubli jaise kahin settle ho sakein. Chhota ghar, chhota café, books aur coffee."

Mera dil tez dhadak raha tha. "Rohan, main bhi... main bhi yahi sochti hoon. Lekin darr lagta hai. Itni jaldi..."

"Jaldi? Do mahine ho gaye. Lekin haan, tum sahi kehti ho. Pehle... pehle thoda aur waqt."

Humne haath nahi chhoda. Shaam ke 6 baje, jab street lights on hue, tab humne ek doosre ko dekha.

Aur usne... usne mera haath chhoda nahi. Bas aage badha, aur mere gaal pe ek chhota sa kiss kiya.

Soft. Warm. Brief.

"Mysuru tak wait karunga," usne kaha.

Main kuch bol nahi paayi. Bas muskurayi. Aur uska haath pakad kar chalti rahi.

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Chapter 5: Ghar Ki Khabar

Agle hafte Ananya ka phone aaya.

"Priya, tum Bangalore mein ho?"

"Ha didi, kya hua?"

"Woh... woh Rohan kaun hai?"

Mera dil ruk gaya. "Kya? Kaunse Rohan?"