Gas, Maggi aur Thoda Sa Control

Ahmedabad ki us raat mein ek ajeeb si chip-chip wali thakaan thi. Office se nikle hue dono ko kaafi der ho chuki thi, aur Meera Sharma ka face wahi classic “main thak gayi hoon but meri eyebrows abhi bhi perfectly set hain” category mein aata tha. Kabir Mehta uske thoda peeche-peeche chal raha tha, apna laptop bag ek shoulder pe latkaye, aur doosre haath mein society gate ka access card ghuma raha tha jaise koi hero entry le raha ho. Meera ne bina dekhe bol diya, “Kabir, lift mein bhi bakwas mat start karna. Mera patience office mein khatam ho gaya tha.”

Kabir ne ek halka sa salute maara. “Yes ma’am. Aaj main sirf productive rahunga. Emotional damage nahi dunga.”

Meera ne uski taraf ek aisi nazar se dekha jo kisi bhi normal insaan ke liye warning hoti. Lekin Kabir normal insaan tha hi nahi, ya kam se kam aisa pretend karta tha. Dono ka relation technically boss aur junior ka tha, lekin shared apartment mein woh line itni blurry ho chuki thi ki kabhi-kabhi lagta tha ki office ka hierarchy unke kitchen slab ke neeche hi kahin dafan hai. Subah se office calls, deadlines, client changes, aur “bas ek small update chahiye” wale mails ke beech dono ne decide kiya tha ki raat ko simple dinner bana lenge. Simple matlab rice, sabzi, ya kuch bhi jo “healthy” category mein fit ho aur jisme effort minimum ho.

Apartment ka kitchen waise bhi apni alag personality rakhta tha. Bahar se dekhne pe lagta tha manageable hai—do log, ek fridge, ek gas stove, thode utensils, aur ek chhota sa corner jahan atta aur masale rakhe jaate the. Lekin andar se kitchen ek passive-aggressive roommate ki tarah behave karta tha. Kabhi spoon gayab, kabhi steel bowl dishwasher ke neeche atka, kabhi onion cutting board sticky, aur kabhi cylinder aise khatam hota tha jaise usko exactly usi moment ka wait tha.

Aaj bhi wahi hua.

Meera ne bag side mein rakha, hair tie tight kiya, aur seedha kitchen mein ghus gayi. “Kabir, onions chop kar do. Main sabzi start karti hoon.”

Kabir already fridge khol chuka tha aur uska face dekh ke lag raha tha jaise usne koi ancient treasure nahi, balki last piece of dignity dhoondh li ho. “Yes boss,” usne bola, “aaj main knife skills se corporate world ko impress karunga.”

“Bas impress mat karna. Khud ko cut mat kar lena,” Meera ne bina emotion ke reply diya.

Kabir hansa aur cutting board pe onion rakh diya. Meera ne gas ki knob ghumayi.

Aur phir ek second ka silence.

Phir ek aur ghumaya.

Phir usne cylinder check kiya.

Kabir pehle se samajh gaya tha, kyunki Meera ke face pe jo expression aaya tha, woh normal annoyance se thoda upar tha. “Kabir,” uski awaaz unusually flat thi, “gas khatam hai.”

Kabir ne pehle aasman ki taraf dekha, phir cylinder ki taraf, phir aise react kiya jaise uske andar ka dramatist jag gaya ho. “Nahi. Ye nahi ho sakta. Aaj hi? Aaj jab hum dono itne civilized mood mein hain?”

Meera ne ek gehri saans li. “Civilized mood? Kabir, main 9:30 se call pe hoon. Mera mood ab sirf ‘survive’ kar raha hai.”

Kabir ne cylinder ko thoda sa hila ke dekha, jaise usse emotional blackmail karke gas nikalwa lega. “Maybe thoda sa aur hoga.”

“Thoda sa aur tumhare jokes mein hota hai, cylinder mein nahi.”

Usi waqt office ka call uske laptop pe blink karne laga. Meera ne ek aur cursed look kitchen ko diya aur laptop open kar diya. “Main call join kar rahi hoon. Tum dekh lo kuch.”

Kabir ne pantry ki taraf jaake shelves khangale. Pehle namak, phir chai patti, phir ek half-used ketchup bottle, aur last mein, jaise destiny ne final item ke taur pe rakha ho—Maggi.

Kabir ne Maggi packet ko haath mein uthaya aur uski aankhon mein koi tragic glow aa gaya. “Madam, pantry mein sirf ye bacha hai. Aaj hum survival mode mein hain.”

Meera ne screen pe client ko nod kiya, phir side-eye se packet dekha. “Maggi?”

“Maggi,” Kabir ne solemn tone mein bola. “The only constant in a chaotic universe.”

Meera ne kuch nahi bola, bas apni chair pull karke laptop ke saamne baith gayi. Uske face pe woh boss wali composure thi jo meetings mein kaafi kaam aati thi. Par andar se woh genuinely tired thi. Usko bas ek normal dinner chahiye tha, ek uninterrupted evening, aur thoda sa aisa support jo bolna na pade. Problem ye thi ki usne kabhi kisi se maanga hi nahi tha.

Kabir ne pan nikala. “Water quantity kitna?”

“Packet pe jo likha hai wahi,” Meera ne bina dekhe jawab diya.

Kabir ne packet uthaya. “Packet pe bhi vague instructions hote hain, ma’am. Life ki tarah.”

“Kabir, abhi philosophy mat shuru kar.”

“Philosophy nahi, practicality. Agar zyada water ho gaya toh soup ban jayegi. Kam hua toh cement.”

Meera ka jawline tight ho gaya. “Tum bas kaam karo.”

Kabir ne spoon ghumaya. “Main kaam hi kar raha hoon. Aapko bas meri energy se problem hai.”

Ye line bas aise hi nikal gayi thi, lekin Meera ko chubh gayi. Laptop call pe client kuch bol raha tha, lekin uska focus ek second ke liye wahi ruk gaya. Kabir bhi suddenly chup ho gaya. Pan mein paani garam ho raha tha, aur kitchen mein ek aisa silence aa gaya jisme bas fridge ka low hum aur office call ki muffled awaaz thi.

Meera ne mic mute kiya aur thoda sa gusse mein boli, “Mujhe tumhari energy se problem nahi hai. Mujhe un logon se problem hoti hai jo kaam ko joke bana dete hain.”

Kabir ne eyebrows uthaaye. “Aur mujhe un logon se problem hoti hai jo har situation mein boss mode pe hi rehte hain.”

Bas. Wahi line tha jo hawa ko aur heavy kar gaya.

Meera ne spoon rakha. “Boss mode? Kabir, kitchen mein cylinder dead hai. Isme boss mode ka kya lena-dena?”