Hostel Room No. 214: Do Log, Ek Fan, Aur Bohot Saara Pressure

Raat ko Diya ne apni diary kholi. Woh diary koi poetic cheez nahi thi, bas ek plain notebook jisme woh apne darr likhti thi, kyunki bolne se usko lagta tha ki weakness dikh jayegi. Usne likha: “Mujhe darr lagta hai. Logon ki nazar se, ghar ki expectations se, future se. Main strong dikhna chahti hoon, but kabhi kabhi lagta hai main bas ek galat step door hoon from everyone’s disappointment.”

Ussi time Dev apne bag mein kuch dhoond raha tha. Usko mama ki ek purani voice note mili jo usne kabhi delete nahi ki thi. Voice mein woh familiar warmth thi—thodi rough, thodi funny. Mama bol rahe the, “Dev, yaad rakh. Jo apne logon ke liye khada hota hai na, wahi asli smart hota hai. Mard ward ka chakkar baad mein. Pehle insaan ban. Aur haan, apni behen ko tang kam kiya kar. Usko support karna seekh. Bhen log ka scene alag hota hai.”

Dev ne phone ko ek second ke liye dekhte reh gaya. Usko yaad aaya bachpan ka woh summer, jab mama ne usko cycle chalana sikhate hue bola tha, “Girna allowed hai. Par apne logon ko girne mat dena.” Dev ne tab has ke bola tha, “Mama, aap film dialogue maar rahe ho kya?” Aur mama ne uske sar pe halka sa tap karke kaha tha, “Haan, kyunki life bhi film se kam drama nahi hai, hero.”

Uska throat thoda tight hua. Woh apne room ke beech khada tha, aur usko pehli baar samajh aaya ki sarcasm aur attitude ke neeche woh bhi bas kisi ke liye safe feel karna chahta tha. Ghar mein responsible bhai ka tag usko chahiye tha, par usne kabhi seriously us role ko निभाने ki koshish ki hi nahi thi.

Next morning, Diya ki diary accidentally bed ke paas gir gayi. Dev ne uthake rakhni chahi, par uski nazar ek line pe atak gayi. “Mujhe ghar ki approval chahiye. Bas itna hi nahi ki main theek hoon, main unke liye ‘acceptable’ bhi hoon.” Dev ne kuch der tak bas woh line dekhi. Uske andar ka joke-maker suddenly chup ho gaya.

Diya bathroom se nikli toh Dev uski diary ko carefully table pe rakh raha tha. “Maine padh nahi liya,” usne turant bola. “Bas… ek line dikhi.”

Diya ka chehra pehle defensive hua. “Toh?”

Dev ne kandhe uthaaye. “Toh… I get it, maybe. Thoda. Tu drama queen nahi hai. Tu genuinely scared hai.”

Diya ki aankhon mein ek chhota sa confusion aaya. “Aur tu? Kal se itna silent kyun hai?”

Dev ne ek awkward sa laugh diya. “Kal mujhe yaad aaya ki mama kya bolte the. Ki apne logon ke liye khada hona smart hota hai. Main bas… har baar joke bana ke bhaag jata tha. Shayd isliye kyunki main bhi pressure mein tha. Ghar waale chahte hain main sab handle karun. Responsible bhai banun. Aur main banne ki acting karta rehta hoon.”

Diya ne usko dekha. Pehli baar usko laga ki Dev ka sarcasm laziness nahi, armor hai. Aur Dev ko laga ki Diya ka strictness attitude nahi, survival mode hai.

“Sorry,” Dev ne dheere se bola. “Maine tujhe lightly liya.”

Diya ne bhi saans chhodi. “Main bhi. Tumhe useless samajh liya tha.”

“Wow. Emotional honesty at 9 AM. Hostel is healing,” Dev ne dry tone mein bola, but is baar Diya ne bas aankh roll ki aur halka sa smile kar diya.

Phir un dono ne practical mode on kiya, kyunki emotions ke baad life phir se practical ho jaati hai. Dev ne bola, “Listen. Fixed timing pe family calls. Tu har call ka turant answer mat de. Agar pressure ho, main side mein hoon. Aur agar koi bizarre question poochhe, toh hum ek standard answer rakhenge.”

Diya ne eyebrow raise ki. “Standard answer?”

“Ha, like: ‘Haan, hostel mein sab safe hai, padhai chal rahi hai, aur hum log kaafi boring students hain.’ Boring sunke society bore ho jaati hai.”

Diya hansi. “Not bad. Aur privacy?”

“Simple. Room ke andar jo bhi ho, no random entry. Aur agar tu panic mein ho, lecture nahi dunga. Bas water, silence, aur agar zarurat ho toh walk.”

Diya ne uski taraf dekh ke nod kiya. “Aur main bhi promise karti hoon… main har cheez pe explode nahi karungi. Bas jab help chahiye ho, guilt feel nahi karungi.”

Dev ne apne phone pe mama ki voice note dobara play ki, par this time usne volume low rakha. Room 214 mein pehli baar woh silence aayi jo awkward nahi thi. Outside corridor mein students hansi-mazaak kar rahe the, kettle se whistle aa rahi thi, aur Mrs. Mehta ka distant voice kisi junior ko discipline sikha rahi thi. Par room ke andar ek naya understanding settle ho gaya tha.

Shaam ko Mrs. Mehta ne unke room ka door khatkhataya. Dev ne khola toh woh unke room ko dekh kar boli, “Aaj awaz kam aa rahi hai. Koi miracle hua?”

Diya ne respectfully kaha, “Madam, hum log bas schedule set kar rahe the.”

Mrs. Mehta ne un dono ko ek second tak dekha. Phir uski aankhon mein jo suspicion tha, usmein halka sa practicality mix ho gaya. “Good. Hostel mein survival ka pehla rule hai: apne aap se zyada apne roommate ko mat test karo. Aur haan, family pressure ka drama yahan sab leke aate hain. Bas room ko war zone mat banana.”

Dev ne almost smile ke saath kaha, “Noted, madam.”

Mrs. Mehta ne door band karte hue bas itna bola, “Aur Diya, agar koi extra call aaye na, toh tension mat lo. Kabhi kabhi logon ko bas yeh dikhana hota hai ki tum unke sawaalon se chhoti nahi ho.”

Diya ne unka pichhla sentence sun liya. Woh kuch bol nahi paayi, par uske face pe relief saaf tha.