Kadak Dash

“Ladkiyon ko daudna nahi hota.” Unki awaaz ekdum seedhi thi. “School tak theek hai. Ghar tak theek hai. Khet tak theek hai. Uske baad jo hai, woh hamare liye nahi.”

“Hamare liye?” meri awaaz phat gayi. “Ya mere liye?”

“Dono ke liye.” Unhone table pe haath maara. “Gaon kya bolega? Log kya sochenge? Kal ko koi dekh lega tujhe track pe—”

“School mein ladkiyan bhi hoti hain,” maine beech mein kaata.

“Ha.” Unhone taana sa maara. “Aur jo ladkiyan udhar jaati hain, unka kya hota hai? Tu padhi-likhi ho ke bhi itni bewakoof hai?”

Mammi ne dheere se kaha, “Suniye…”

“Tu chup reh.” Baap ji ki awaaz unpe bhi nikal gayi. “Iske kaan mein sapne kisne bhar diye? Haan?”

Mujhe laga ro dungi, par aansu aane se pehle gussa aa gaya.

“Coach aaya tha,” maine bol diya. “Usne bola main achchi hoon. School track pe training dega.”

Baap ji ka chehra aur sakht ho gaya. “Naam bhi lekar aaya hai?”

“Mera naam hai Jyoti.”

“Naam se kuch nahi hota.” Unki awaaz mein ab thakaan bhi thi. “Izzat se ghar chalta hai. Shauk se nahi.”

Main unhe dekh rahi thi. Mere baap ka chehra kabhi itna ajnabi nahi laga tha. Phir yaad aaya—woh mujhe aise hi dekhte the jab main chhoti thi aur nali ke paani mein kood jaati thi. Tab bhi unko darr tha. Bas darr ka naam alag tha.

Mammi ne roti ka belan uthaya aur dheere se boli, “Raat ko baat karenge.”

Baap ji ne snort kiya. “Baat khatam. Ye school ke track-vrack pe nahi jayegi.”

Mera gala bhar aaya. “Kyun?”

“Kyoonki maine mana kiya hai.”

“Sirf isliye?”

Unhone mujhe ghoora. “Mere mana karne se zyada kya chahiye?”

Mere paas jawab nahi tha. Hamare ghar mein aksar wahi kaafi hota tha—baap ka mana.

Phir bhi us din pehli baar maine sir jhukaaya nahi. Unki aankhon mein dekh kar kaha, “Main phir bhi daudungi.”

Baap ji ne mujhe aise dekha jaise maine unka haath pakad liya ho. “Dekhte hain.”

Unka ye “dekhte hain” dhamki bhi tha, aur kuch aur bhi—jo main us waqt samajh nahi paayi.

Aman

Agli subah school ground pe Aman bhi tha.

Usne mujhe aate hi dekha aur hont se halki si seeti jaisi awaaz nikali. “Naye shoes?”

“Purane hain,” maine kaha. “Aur tu itna subah subah kyun?”

“Main toh yahin ka hoon,” usne kandhe uchkaye. “Tu nayi hai.”

Aman hamesha aise bolta tha jaise usse sab pata ho, aur phir bhi usse kisi baat ki parwah kam ho. School ke kuch teachers usse “tez zubaan” kehte the. Woh kam bolta nahi tha—bas aadha sach, aadha taana. Aur kabhi kabhi aadha mazaak.

Coach ne line banayi. “Aaj 200 meter. Pace samjho. Jyoti, tu start pe weak hai. Aman, tu overconfident hai.”

Aman ne aankh ghumaai. “Sir, aap attack mode mein kyun hote ho?”

“Main coach hoon,” unhone kaha. “Dost nahi.”

Mujhe hasi aa gayi.

Race se pehle Aman mere paas aaya. “Kal tu mujhe pakad hi leti.”

“Pakad liya tha,” maine kaha.

“Teen kadam ke liye.”

“Teen kadam bhi kaafi hote hain.”

Usne idhar-udhar dekha, phir neeche awaaz mein bola, “Mere class ke boys bolte hain tu bas attention ke liye bhaagti hai.”

Main uski taraf palti. “Aur tu kya bolta hai?”

“Main?” Woh baal ka ek guchchha kaan ke peeche karta hua bola, “Main bolta hoon unka dimaag bhi sprint karta hai. Bas direction galat hai.”

Mujhe hansi aa gayi. Aman ne bhi chhoti si hansi di, phir turant serious ho gaya.

“Sach bolun?” usne kaha. “Pehle mujhe laga tu bas gaon ki woh type hai—jo zyada bolti hai aur phir kahin nahi jaati.”

“Ab?”

“Ab lagta hai tu bolne se pehle bhaag leti hai.”

“Ye compliment hai?”

“Jitna samajh sake utna le le.”

Uski zubaan mein kaanta tha. School ke bahar se bhi thoda khurdura tha—mohalle mein do baar ladai kar chuka tha, ek baar principal ke office se nikalwaaya gaya tha kyunki woh fee ke issue pe kisi senior se ulajh gaya. Ghar mein paise ka pressure tha. Woh usse chhupata nahi tha, bas kabhi kabhi mazaak mein daba deta tha. Shayad isi liye uski hansi mein thakan bhi thi.

Whistle baji. Is baar main better thi. Start ab bhi perfect nahi tha, par body ko zyada jaldi chhod diya. 100 meter pe Aman aage tha. 150 pe gap kam hua. 180 pe main uske shoulder ke barabar thi. Last 20 pe meri chhati mein aag thi. Maine dhoop, dhool, baap ji ki awaaz, mammi ki khamoshi—sab ko ek saans mein nigal liya.

Line cross.

Coach ne clap ki. “Yahi!”

Aman mere se thoda aage tha, par uske chehre pe mazaak nahi tha. Usne saamne se haath badhaya. “Good one.”

Main thak kar bhi seedhi khadi rahi. “Next time aur achha.”

“Pakka,” usne kaha.

Coach ne dono ko dekha. “Yeh hunger hai. Discipline mil gaya to district level possible hai.”

District level.

Mere kaan mein ye do shabd aise lage jaise kisi ne darwaza khol diya ho.

“Sach?” maine poocha.

Coach ne sir hila diya. “Par ghar ko manana hoga.”

Mera chehra turant utar gaya. “Wahi toh.”

Aman ne meri taraf dekha. “Ghar waale itne kharab hain kya?”

Maine usse dekha. “Kharab nahi. Darr wale hain.”

Usne kuch der socha. “Same thing, bas alag smell.”

Mujhe hasi aa gayi, par uske chehre pe muskaan ke neeche kuch aur bhi tha—jaise woh khud ko bhi samjha raha ho.

Chulha

Dopehar ko mammi ne mujhe ghee wala paratha diya. “Kha le. Pet khaali hoga to aur ulta seedha soch aayega.”

Main chup rahi. Woh aaj zyada kaam mein nahi lag rahi thi. Aankhen baar baar darwaze ki taraf ja rahi thi. Mujhe laga baap ji ne kuch aur kaha hoga, ya gaon ki kisi aurat ne kuch sunaya hoga. Mammi ka din logon ki awaazon se bana karta tha.

“Tu sach mein jana chahti hai?” unhone achanak poocha.

Maine nigal kar kaha, “Haan.”

“Gaon se bahar?”

“Training ke liye.”

“Phir?”

“Phir dekhungi.”

Mammi ne belan rakh diya. “Dekhungi se ghar nahi chalta, Jyoti.”