Hostel Corridor Mein Dil Ka DJ

Nagpur ke boys’ hostel mein subah ka matlab hota tha teen cheezein: alarm ka murder, chai ka jugad, aur kisi na kisi ka “bhai bas 5 minute aur.” Aarav Mehta ke liye subah ka fourth element bhi hota tha—cricket. Uska routine set tha: 6 baje net practice, 8 baje canteen se cutting chai, aur 9 baje hostel corridor mein ek aisi entry jaisi poora campus uska fan club ho. Woh thoda loud tha, thoda hyperactive, aur thoda zyada hi confident lagta tha. Par jo log uske jokes ke peeche ka silence nahi sunte the, unhe pata hi nahi chalta tha ki Aarav andar se kitna dar raha hai.

Uske room ke just side mein Raghav Sinha, yaani Raghu, rehta tha—Patna se aaya hua, college debate team ka star, aur hostel ka sabse soft-spoken insaan. Raghu raat ko late tak prep karta, mirror ke saamne speeches practice karta, aur phir bhi jab koi usse “bro, kya scene?” poochta, toh woh bas halki si smile de ke bolta, “Kuch nahi, normal hi hai.” Normal ka uske liye matlab hota tha: overthinking, emotional backlog, aur ek girlfriend jo Patna se aane ke baad bhi uske dil ke andar remote control ki tarah on-off ho rahi thi.

Aur phir thi Neha. Straightforward, practical, thodi thakki hui, aur is waqt Patna se seedha hostel aane wali thi. Raghu ko uska message subah se mila hua tha: “Evening mein milna. Bahana nahi chalega.” Message padh ke Raghu ka chehra aise ho gaya tha jaise viva ke pehle paper leak ho gaya ho, par sirf uske liye. Usne reply mein teen drafts likhe, teen delete kiye, aur end mein sirf “Okay” bhej diya. Aarav ne dekh liya tha.

“Bhai, ‘Okay’ se relationship nahi bachta,” Aarav ne chai ki sip lete hue bola.

Raghu ne bina uthe jawab diya, “Aur jokes se bhi nahi.”

“Main jokes nahi, solutions deta hoon,” Aarav ne chest thok ke kaha.

“Exactly problem wahi hai,” Raghu ne murmur kiya.

Usi hostel corridor mein ek aur chaos chal raha tha. Aarav ke room ke saamne wali side par Dinesh Verma, yaani Dinu uncle, apni daughter Ananya ki ceremony ke liye temporary wedding arrangements kar rahe the. Hostel ka ek part unhone almost mini banquet hall bana diya tha—plastic chairs, fairy lights, floral cloth, aur ek side mein speakers ka aadha-adhura setup. Dinu uncle type ke insaan the jo har 10 minute mein kisi ko bolte, “Simple rakhna hai, bas simple,” aur agle hi minute poora area inspect karte jaise shaadi ke saath UN summit bhi host karna ho.

Ananya, unki 19 saal ki daughter, zyada bolti nahi thi. Woh bas corner mein baith ke sab observe karti—kab kaun kis tone mein baat kar raha hai, kaun kis baat ko kitna seriously le raha hai. Uski aankhon mein ek ajeeb si maturity thi, jo us age mein usually sirf un bacchon mein aati hai jo adults ke promises pe jaldi trust karna chhod dete hain.

Shaam ko hostel ka mood aur bhi weird ho gaya. Ek taraf Dinu uncle ka wedding DJ last-minute cancel ho gaya, aur alternate DJ wale ka speaker setup gate par hi atak gaya. Doosri taraf rehearsal shuru ho gaya, jisme kisi ne mic test ke naam pe “one-two-three, shaadiiiii” poore corridor mein chala diya. Warden, jo already daily headache ka living example tha, seedha furious mode mein aa gaya.

“Kaun hai ye log? Hostel hai ya baraat ka parking lot?” warden ne chilla ke poocha.

Aarav turant action mein aa gaya. “Sir, main dekh leta hoon. Bas 10 minute dijiye.”

Raghu ne dheere se bola, “Tum 10 minute bolte ho, matlab 40 minute ka emotional damage.”

Aarav ne uski taraf ghura, “Tu bas apni girlfriend ke aane ka wait kar. Main yahan system repair kar raha hoon.”

“System nahi, circus,” Raghu ne under-breath bola.

Aur phir Neha aa gayi.

Uska suitcase ek haath mein tha, dusre mein phone, aur face par woh expression jo seedha bol raha tha: aaj baat khatam hogi. Raghu usse hostel gate ke paas mila. Dono ke beech ek second ka silence aisa tha jaise poora corridor bhi saans rok ke sun raha ho.

Neha boli, “Mujhe drama nahi chahiye, Raghu. Bas clear answer chahiye.”

Raghu ne aankhen neeche kar li. “Haan, bolo.”

“Either you’re serious, or we’re done.”

Seedha, simple, aur itna heavy ki Raghu ke liye us moment mein saans lena bhi debate topic lag raha tha. Woh kuch bolta, usse pehle hi corridor mein speaker on ho gaya—aur wedding ka gaana baj utha. “Mehendi laga ke rakhna…” poore hostel mein echo kar gaya. Warden ka blood pressure sky-touch ho gaya.

“Yeh kya tamasha hai!” warden phir se chillaaya.

Aarav ne daud ke speaker ko dekhna shuru kiya, Raghu ne Neha ko, Neha ne Dinu uncle ko, aur Dinu uncle ne sabko ek hi nazar mein judge kar liya. Unka face aise tight tha jaise unki saari planning ek hi second mein zip file ban gayi ho.

“Bhai, kisne isko yahan connect kiya?” Aarav ne wire dekhte hue poocha.

“Mainne bola tha simple setup,” Dinu uncle gusse mein bole, “par koi sunta hi nahi!”

Ananya, jo thodi door khadi thi, bas quietly boli, “Papa, aap khud bhi toh kisi ki nahi sun rahe.”

Bas. Ek line. Aur poora scene ruk gaya.

Dinu uncle ka face soft hua. Unhone Ananya ki taraf dekha, phir speaker, phir corridor ke mess ko. “Main… main bas chahta tha ki sab theek ho. Tumhari maa hoti toh is din ko dekh ke khush hoti. Maine tumse bola tha na, koi compromise nahi.”

Ananya ne dheere se poocha, “Par compromise kis cheez ka? Shaadi ka ya meri feelings ka?”

Woh line sunke Dinu uncle ekdum silent ho gaye. Aarav bhi, jo usually har situation mein kuch na kuch bol deta tha, chup ho gaya. Raghu aur Neha ka tension bhi side mein thoda freeze ho gaya. Hostel corridor mein pehli baar itni khamoshi thi ki fan ki awaaz tak clear sunai de rahi thi.