Cockroaches in Love

COCKROACHES IN LOVE

PART ONE: PEHCHAAN

Day 10 — June 28, 2026 Jantar Mantar, Delhi

Garmi ka asar alag hi tha Dilli mein. Pratima Sharma Rajiv Chowk metro se utri, uske haath mein ek chhota backpack tha jisme paani ki bottles, ek blanket, aur ek ajeeb si bechaini thi. Umr unnis saal, Lucknow ki rehne waali, NEET ki tayyari karne waali ladki. Par May 3, 2026 ke baad sab badal gaya tha.

Paper leak ho gaya tha.

Papa ne kaha tha, "Ja beta. Koi toh awaaz uthaye."

Jantar Mantar pahunchi toh samundar dikha—kaale t-shirts mein dubi hui bheed. Sab pe cockroach ka logo. Koi has raha tha, koi chillaa raha tha, sab ek dusre se alag par ek jazbe se judi hui.

"First time?" ek awaaz aayi peechhe se.

Pratima mudi. Lamba ladka khada tha, aankhon mein kuchh alag sa josh. Haath mein do chai ke cup.

"itna obvious hai?" usne cheeks garam mehsoos kiye.

"Tumhari aankhein aise ghoom rahi hain jaise exam ke liye yaad kar rahi ho sab kuchh," ladka muskuraaya. "Main Abhishek. Abhishek Gupta. Rohtak se."

"Pratima. Lucknow." Usne chai li. "Haan, first time. Mere friends aane waale the par darr gaye. Mummy-Papa ne mana kar diya."

Abhishek ne sar hilaaya. "Same story. Main toh Haryana se teen doston ke saath aaya hun. Post-graduate hain sab. Engineers. Berozgaar." Hass diya, par uski hassi mein kuchh tha. "Yahan NEET ke liye nahi aaya hun. Yeh system ke khilaaf hain jo hume chabaa jaata hai."

Pratima uski baaton mein kho gayi. Woh yahan apne sapnon ke tootne ke gham mein thi, par Abhishek toh jaise intezaar kar raha tha is pal ka.

Aage stage pe Abhijeet Dipke bol rahe the: "Unhone humein cockroach kaha. Unhe pata nahi—cockroach sab kuchh survive kar lete hain. Empires ke baad bhi zinda rehte hain!"

Bheed zor se chillai. Pratima ke haath mein goosebumps aa gaye.

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Day 11 — June 29

Raat bhar neend nahi aayi. Garmi, machchar, aur woh awaaz—cockroach, cockroach—dimag mein ghoomti rahi. Par subah 5 baje, jab pehli roshni India Gate pe padi, Pratima ne kuchh mehsoos kiya jo mahino baad mehsoos kar rahi thi: umeed.

Medical aid station ke paas Abhishek mila, ORS packets baant raha tha.

"Raat kaise guzri?" usne poochha, aankhein roshan ho gayi use dekh kar.

"Barely," Pratima ne kaha. "Par main rukungi. Train wapas ki... maine hi cancel ki hai."

Abhishek zor se hansa. "Accha hai. Suno, shaam ko hum logon ka ek group hota hai—Haryana ke ladke, DU ki ladkiyaan. Discussion, poetry, aur... aur bhi kuchh. Aaj aana?"

"Kaisa kuchh?"

Muskuraaya. "Dekhna padega. Doston ko bhi laana, agar bana li toh."

Shaam tak Pratima ne dost bana liye. Priya, DU ki student jo Ambedkar ki baatein karti thi. Rizwan, Bhopal se jo apne bhai ko NEET scandal mein kho chuka tha. Aur Megha, Kanpur se jo protest signs paint karti thi.

Shaam ka session ek banyan tree ke neeche hua. Kisi ne Bluetooth speaker laaya tha. Lagbhag bees log baithe the, Parliament building door dikhta tha.

"Truth or Dare?" kisine chillaaya.

Shuruat mein toh simple tha—pehle crush ke baare mein baatein, dares mein slogans chillana. Par jaise raat gehri hui, energy badal gayi.

Rizwan ne dare liya, Priya ke gaal pe kiss kiya. Megha ne truth diya—sex ke baare mein baat ki, sab hans diye.

Phir Abhishek ki baari aayi.

"Dare," usne confidently kaha.

Vikram, uska Haryana ka dost, shaitaani se muskuraaya. "Main tujhe dare karta hun—yahan se kisi ko choose kar, aur use hug kar. Tight. Paanch minute tak. Aur aankhein band nahi kar sakta."

Abhishek ne circle mein dekha. Pratima neeche dekh rahi thi, haath se dhool mein kuchh bana rahi thi.

"Pratima," Abhishek ne kaha. "Agar woh maane toh."

Sab mud ke dekhe. Pratima ka dil tez dhadak raha tha. Par kuchh tha is moment mein—anonymity, bheed, kuchh bada hone ka ehsaas.

"Thik hai," usne dheemi awaaz mein kaha.

Dono khade hue. Abhishek paas aaya, itne paas ki uski deodorant ki smell aa rahi thi—sweat aur kuchh aur.

"Paanch minute," Vikram ne phone pe timer lagaya. "Aur eye contact. Dekhna zaroori hai."

Abhishek ne dheere se haath badhaye, Pratima ko wapas jaane ka mauka diya. Jab woh nahi gayi, usne gale lagaya. Uski bahein uski kamar pe thi, Pratima ke haath uske shoulders pe.

"Hi," usne whisper kiya.

"Hi," Pratima ne saans li.

Eye contact mushkil tha. Abhishek ki aankhein dark brown thi, streetlight mein gold flecks dikhte the. Minute do tak toh bas saansein sync hui.

Minute teen pe uski nazar uske honthon pe gayi, phir wapas aankhon mein—ek sawaal tha wahan.

Minute chaar tak Pratima ke ghutne kamzor ho gaye the.

"Time!" Vikram chillaaya, par awaaz door lag rahi thi.

Dono turant alag nahi hue. Abhishek ne thoda zor se pakda, thoda aur paas kheencha.

"Tum jasmine ki tarah mehakti ho," usne kaha.

"Tum revolution ki tarah," Pratima ne kaha, aur dono hans diye.

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Day 12 — June 30

Agli subah Pratima ussi hug ke baare mein soch kar uthi. Raat bhar neend nahi aayi, woh paanch minute baar-baar yaad kar rahi thi.

Community kitchen mein Abhishek mila, parathe bana raha tha.

"Neend achhi aayi?" usne poochha, profile se muskura raha tha.

"Zyaada nahi. Tumhe?"

"Cheezein... yaad aa rahi thi." Usne paratha palata. "Sun Pratima, sach bolun? Main sirf protest ke liye nahi aaya. I mean, haan, yeh bhi hai. Par main politics mein aana chahta hun. Eventually. Papa sarpanch the. Main political meetings mein bada hua. Yeh movement—yeh shuruaat hai."

"Toh tum protest use kar rahe ho?" Pratima ne disappointment chhupaya nahi.

"Nahi," woh mud ke poora chehra uski taraf kiya. "Main invest kar raha hun. Main ismein vishwaas karta hun. Par potential bhi dekhta hun. CJP sirf meme ya moment nahi. Generation shift ho sakta hai. Aur main usse banane mein hissa lena chahta hun."

Pratima ne socha. "Yeh... actually admirable hai. Zyadatar ladke toh bas... you know... pants mein jaane ke liye idealistic ban jaate."