Chudail Ka Sabun

Koi Baat Nahi

Main jab bhi gaon ke beech se guzarti thi na, logon ki awaaz ekdum dheemi ho jaati thi. Jaise kisi ne saans ko bhi daftar mein darj kar diya ho.

“Udhar mat dekh, Keki aa rahi hai.” “Chup, sun legi.” “Chudail hai… par kaam aati hai.”

Mujhe aadat ho gayi thi. Aadat ho gayi thi ki mere naam se pehle ek aur cheez chalti thi. Chudail.

Koi mujhe Keki bolta, toh mujhe ajeeb lagta. Jaise koi bahut purani, bahut sakht yaad mujhe chhoo gayi ho. Jaise main bhi kisi ki beti thi kabhi. Kisi ki chhoti behen. Kisi ke ghar ka hissa. Ab bas main gaon ke kinaare wali aurat thi—jhuki hui peeth, sookhe haath, aur ek aisi nazar jise dekhkar log apni galti yaad karna pasand nahi karte the.

Mera ghar gaon se thoda alag tha, bambu ke jhaad ke piche, ek neem ke paas. Log kehte the main alag rehti hoon kyunki mujhe andhera pasand hai. Sach yeh tha ki andhere mein koi mujhe zyada der tak dekh nahi pata tha. Aur main kisi ki aankhon mein zyada der tak nahi tikna chahti thi.

Ghar ke naam pe ek khaprail ka chhota sa kamra tha. Deewar mein do dararein, zameen mein thodi nami, aur ek aangan jahan ghans phoot aati thi. Mere paas zyada samaan nahi tha. Ek purana lota, do tin dabbe, kuch sukhe patte, ek chhota sa sabun ka tukda, aur ek tin ki dibiya jisme namak, haldi, aur kuch aur cheezein thi—jo logon ke chot, jalan, aur gandi safai ke kaam aati thi.

Gaon ki auratein chupke se aati thi. Din mein nahi. Shaam ko ya subah jab mard khet ki taraf nikal jaate. Koi ghutne ka dard le aati, koi bachhe ke pet ki kharabi, koi bachhe ke ghaav, koi apni chuppi.

Main unko zyada sawal nahi puchti thi.

“Paani kitna saaf hai?” “Haath kab dhoye the?” “Kapda kis ka use kiya?” “Bacche ko bukhar ke baad nahaya tha?”

Unmein se kuch hasti thi, kuch sharmati thi. Main unko sabun deti thi, ya apne haath se dikhati thi ki kaise haath ko ungliyon ke beech, nakhoon ke niche, kalai tak ragadna hai. Kaise kapde dhoop mein sookhne chahiye. Kaise zakhm par mitti nahi, saaf pani aur sabun ka istemal hota hai. Kaise kisi aurat ko period mein gandi nadi mein nahi jana chahiye. Kaise bachhe ko bukhar mein thanda pani se poochha lagana chahiye, par usko bas “bura nazar” bolkar chhod nahi dena chahiye.

Main yeh sab aise bolti thi jaise koi jhaad-phook ho.

Shayad isi liye log aur darr jaate the.

Spirit Bura ki awaaz gaon ke purane peepal ke neeche se aati thi, jaise kisi ne mitti ke andar se baat nikaal di ho.

“Jis aurat ki zubaan tez ho, jis aurat ka ghar alag ho, jis aurat ka dard ka ilaaj ho, gaon usko naam de deta hai— chudail.”

Main kabhi us awaaz ko dekh nahi paayi, par sunti thi. Bachpan se. Jab meri maa zinda thi, tab bhi. Jab woh khansi se mar gayi aur gaon ne kaha, “Keki ke ghar mein hawa kharab hai.” Jab mera aadha bachpan kisi ke dar ki tarah beet gaya.

Meri maa mujhe bolti thi, “Chhoti si baat bhi sabko mat bata. Gaon mein sach bhi nanga hota hai.”

Usne mujhe sabun ke baare mein pehle bataya tha. “Sirf paani se paap nahi dhulta,” woh kehti, “par bimari dhul sakti hai.”

Main us waqt samajh nahi paayi thi. Ab samajh aati thi.

Gaon wale jab mujhe dekhte, toh unke chehre alag-alag hote. Mardon ke chehre mein shakk. Budhi auraton ke chehre mein ya toh daya ya phir jalan. Bacche mujhe dekhkar chup ho jaate, phir ek-dusre ka haath pakad kar bhaag jaate.

Lekin sab se pehle main unki aankhon mein ek cheez dekh leti thi—raahat. Kyunki jab koi bahut majboor hota hai, tab usko wahi aurat yaad aati hai jise woh din mein gaali deta hai aur raat mein pukarta hai.

Mera kaam wahi tha. Aana. Sunna. Chup rehna. Aur kaam kar jaana.

Koi baat nahi, main apne aap se kehti thi.

Log mujhe chudail bolte hain. Koi baat nahi. Main unke bachhe ko theek kar deti hoon. Koi baat nahi. Main unki aurat ke aansu poochh deti hoon. Koi baat nahi. Main apna naam kisi ko nahi deti. Koi baat nahi.

Phir ek din, Rupali ne mujhe dekh liya.

Sabun Ki Gandh

Rupali satraha saal ki thi. Patli si, lambi choti, aankhon mein aisi chamak jaise kisi ne uske andar se abhi tak andhera hataya hi na ho. Woh gaon ke school mein padhti thi, aur usmein woh cheez thi jo bahut kam logon mein hoti hai—woh dekh leti thi.

Us din shaam ko woh nadi ke paas aayi thi. Main wahin thi, kapde dhone ke liye nahi, balki do bachhon ke liye jinhone gande paani mein khel kar pairon mein khujli kar li thi. Ek aurat ne mujhe bulaya tha, par chupke se. Is gaon mein sab kuch chupke se hota tha. Pyaar bhi, madad bhi, aur sharm bhi.

Rupali peepal ke piche khadi thi. Main use pehle nahi dekhi. Usne mujhe dekh liya tha jab main ek chhote ladke ke haath ko sabun se ragad kar dho rahi thi.

“Didi…,” usne dheere se kaha.

Main palat kar dekhi. “Kaun?”

Woh thoda darr gayi. “Main… Rupali.”

“Yahan kya kar rahi hai?”

Usne neeche dekha. “Maine socha… aap jaadu karti ho.”

Main hans di. Itni halki si hansi ki khud mujhe bhi ajeeb lagi.

“Kaun bola?”

“Sab.”

“Sab galat bolte hain.”

Woh meri taraf aise dekhi jaise main pehli baar uski zindagi mein koi seedhi baat bol rahi hoon. “Phir aap kya karti ho?”

Main ne sabun ka tukda uthaya. “Haath dhoti hoon. Zakhm saaf karti hoon. Aur aurton ko batati hoon ki gandagi se bukhar badhta hai.”

Rupali ki nazar sabun par tik gayi. “Sabun se?”

“Sabun se.”

“Par gaon mein log kehte hain… aap kuch bolti ho, aur bimari chali jaati hai.”