Factory Siren Aur Human Timetable

Coimbatore ki subah kuch alag hi tarah chalti thi—na Delhi jaisi bhaag-daur, na metro jaisa endless rush, bas ek apna steady sa rhythm. Vishnu ka rhythm thoda loud tha. Subah 8 baje se pehle hi woh apni auto-parts shop ke liye nikal jaata, aur nikalte waqt aise shirts pehenta jaise kisi mela mein stage pe aane wala ho. Bright checks, shiny stripes, kabhi neon yellow, kabhi tomato red—jo kapda doosre aadmi ko “attention mat do” bolne pe majboor kar de, Vishnu usko full confidence ke saath pehen leta.

Aur Asha? Asha ka rhythm usse bilkul opposite tha. 39 saal ki, school principal, perfectly pressed saree ya formal suit, ekdum neat bun, ekdum measured steps. Uske liye time ka matlab tha time, aur discipline ka matlab tha discipline. School ke staff usse dekhkar seedhe ho jaate the, aur students toh waise hi line mein aa jaate the. Vishnu usko pyar se “human timetable” bolta tha, aur Asha uske shirts ko “factory siren” ka tag de chuki thi.

“Arre Vishnu, aaj bhi yeh shirt?” Asha subah gate pe khadi hoti aur usko ek nazar se scan kar leti.

Vishnu chest thoda aur forward karke bolta, “Kya problem hai? Fresh lag raha hoon na?”

“Fresh nahi,” Asha bolti, “warning signal lag rahe ho.”

Aur Vishnu has deta. Woh hamesha aise hi karta tha—public mein bhi, ghar mein bhi, sabke saamne Asha ko tease karna uska favourite sport tha. School function ho, business association ka dinner ho, family wedding ho—Vishnu ko bas ek chance chahiye hota tha Asha ke serious face ko thoda sa crack karne ka. Uski loudness mein show-off zaroor hota tha, par ek aur cheez bhi hoti thi jo koi easily notice nahi karta tha: woh Asha ka attention chaahta tha. Bas ek nazar, bas ek smile, bas ek “theek lag rahe ho” ka chhota sa approval.

Lekin Asha? Woh approval dene mein thodi kanjoos thi. Not because she didn’t care. Bilkul nahi. Bas uska pyar control mein dikhta tha, words mein kam aur actions mein zyada. Vishnu ki shirt pe uski taang kheenchna bhi uska love language tha—bas yeh Vishnu kabhi-kabhi bhool jaata tha.

Us din ek special event tha. Local school ka annual day aur business association ka joint function tha. Asha principal thi, toh stage management aur guest coordination sab uske head pe tha. Vishnu ko special guest aur sponsor ke roop mein invite kiya gaya tha, kyunki uska business school ke annual prize distribution mein support karta tha. Event hall ko phoolon se sajaya ja raha tha, children practice kar rahe the, staff idhar-udhar bhaag rahe the, aur Asha apne clipboard ke saath sabko ek hi saans mein instructions de rahi thi.

“Stage pe pani side mein rakhna.”

“Mic check dubara karo.”

“Parents ka entry gate alag hai.”

“Please, koi bhi back entrance se nahi aayega.”

Woh bilkul no-nonsense mode mein thi.

Tabhi Vishnu entry leta hai.

Aur obviously, entry aise nahi leta ki bas aa gaya. Nahi. Full entry. Usne aaj apni sabse loud shirt pehni thi—bright turquoise base, uspe orange geometric prints aur ek shiny border. Shirt dekhkar hi lag raha tha ki kisi ne “subtle” word ko dictionary se delete kar diya ho. Uske saath dark trousers aur polished shoes. Confidence level aisa jaise woh event ka chief guest ho, sponsor ho, aur stage manager bhi.

Asha ne usko door se dekha aur sirf aankh band kar ke ek lambi saans li.

Vishnu seedha uske paas gaya, smile ke saath, “Kaisi lag rahi hoon?”

Asha ne bina smile ke uski shirt ko dekha, phir face ko. “Aaj bhi factory siren mode?”

Vishnu ne eyebrow uthaayi. “Aur tum aaj bhi human timetable mode?”

“Main timetable hoon toh tum late train ho,” Asha ne calmly bola.

Aas-paas khade school staff aur do-do parents ki hasi chhup nahi paayi. Unke beech yeh verbal ping-pong sabko entertain karta tha. Log sochte the ki dono bas mazaak karte hain. Kuchh log toh secretly enjoy bhi karte the, kyunki unka banter boring event ko zinda kar deta tha.

Lekin us din, kuchh alag sa tha.

Event start hua. Children ne dance kiya, speeches hui, trophies ready the. Asha stage ke side se sab control kar rahi thi, aur Vishnu front row mein baithkar kabhi clap karta, kabhi kisi business friend ko elbow maarta, kabhi Asha ko dekhkar dramatic expression banata. Ek point pe usne apni shirt ka collar thoda sa adjust kiya aur intentionally stage ki taraf dekha, jaise camera usi ke liye ho.

Asha ne yeh notice kiya.

Usko laga Vishnu phir se attention grab kar raha hai. Uska kaam tha ki event smoothly chale, aur Vishnu ka kaam tha ki apni presence se scene create kare. Asha already pressure mein thi—parents ka crowd, teachers ki expectations, children ki nervousness, aur upar se stage timing. Vishnu ka yeh extra loud appearance usko thoda irritate kar gaya.

Intermission ke time Asha uske paas aayi. “Bas karo na, Vishnu. Public mein thoda control nahi hota kya?”

Vishnu ka face thoda sa stiff hua. “Control? Main bas yahan aaya hoon. Kya kar diya maine?”

Asha ne lower voice mein bola, “Tumne aaj phir se sabka attention apni shirt pe le liya. Yeh koi fashion show hai?”

Vishnu ka smile dheere se gayab ho gaya. Usne bhi thoda sa sharp tone le liya. “Aur tumhara kaam kya hai? Har baar mujhe correct karna? Public mein mujhe bachcha samajh ke daantna?”

Asha ka jaw tight ho gaya. “Main daant nahi rahi. Main bas chahti hoon ki tum serious ho jao.”

Vishnu ka expression thoda hurt hua. “Serious? Tumhe toh bas timetable chahiye, husband nahi.”

Asha ki aankhon mein ek second ke liye surprise aaya, phir woh bhi defensive ho gayi. “Aur tumhe bas show-off karna aata hai.”