Konkan Local

Platform Ki Hawa

Mumbai CST ke platform par subah ki hawa bhi thaki hui lagti hai. Iron ki railings, chai ki bhap, announcements ka bechain sa shor—sab milke ek aisi duniya banate hain jahan log kisi na kisi jagah se late hote hi hain.

Main time se pehle aa gayi thi.

Ye meri aadat thi. Ya mera nasha. Ya shayad mera darr.

Phone ki screen par 7:12 chamak raha tha. Train 7:40 ki thi. Meera ne last message 6:48 par bheja tha: “Aa rahi hoon. Gate 3 ke paas milna.”

Aa rahi hoon. Jaise koi school bus.

Main ne turant reply kiya: “Main Gate 3 par hoon. Please jaldi.” Phir delete karke likha: “Okay.”

“Okay” zyada safe lagta hai. Na zyada pyaar, na zyada gussa.

Gate 3 ke paas khade hoke main apne tote bag ka handle tight pakde rahi. Usme tickets, water bottles, medicines, power bank, tissues, ek extra dupatta, aur ek folder tha jisme family hospital ka printout, doctor ka note, aur Goa ke address ki photocopy thi. Sab kuch arranged. Sab kuch under control. Bas ek insaan missing thi jise control karna possible hi nahi tha.

Meera ko dekhte hi pehchanne ki zarurat nahi padi.

Woh hamesha aise chalti thi jaise platform uske liye bana ho—tezi se nahi, bina apology ke. Loose kurta, chappal, ek sling bag, baalon mein hawa ka thoda sa chaos. Uske haath mein plastic ka ek packet tha, shayad kuch khaane ka, shayad kuch aur. Uske chehre par wohi half-smile, jo kabhi warm lagti thi aur kabhi irritating.

“Arre wah,” usne mujhe dekh ke kaha, “Aarti madam khud lene aayi hain.”

Maine uski taraf dekha, phir uske bag ki taraf. “Tum late ho.”

“Main late nahi hoon. Mumbai late hai.”

“Train ka time—”

“Abhi aayi toh hoon.”

Main kuch bolti, usse pehle hi woh mere shoulders ke paas se nikalke side mein khadi ho gayi, jaise hum dono ke beech ka space usne jaanbujh ke badha diya ho.

Hum cousins the. Bachpan mein ek dusre ki shadow. Ab formalities ke saath ek room share karne wale strangers.

Mera gala dry tha, phir bhi main apni voice normal rakhti hoon. “Driver aa gaya hai?”

“Wahin hai,” Meera ne ek corner ki taraf ishara kiya.

Ek medium-height, pichle rang ka shirt pehne, forty-five ke aas-paas ka aadmi station ke pillar ke paas khada tha. Uske haath mein cap thi. Aankhon mein woh sab tha jo Mumbai ne kisi ko sikhaya hota hai: patience, calculation, aur ‘main dekh raha hoon’ wali shaanti. Uske face par ek halki si moustache thi, aur expression itna neutral ki usse kuch bhi bolwa lo toh lagta hoga usne pehle hi soch liya tha.

“Namaste, madam,” usne aage badhkar kaha. “Main Suresh. Goa tak main drop kar dunga. Aap logon ka luggage?”

“Bas yehi,” maine kaha.

Meera ne packet upar uthaya. “Aur ye emergency snacks.”

Driver—Suresh—ne packet ko dekha. “Train mein mil jayega, par achha hai. Raat ka safar hai.”

Akhir mein usne meri taraf dekhkar ek second zyada ruk ke bola, “Aap tension mein lag rahi hain.”

Main seedha khadi ho gayi. “Nahi.”

Meera ne chhoti hansi daba li. Mujhe us hansi ka sound purana lagta tha. Bachpan mein jab main kisi baat ko seriously leti, woh aise hi has deti thi. Phir main aur zyada serious ho jaati thi. Woh aur zyada free.

“Main bas time dekh rahi hoon,” maine kaha.

Suresh ne platform clock ki taraf dekha. “Train aane mein abhi thoda time hai. Chai le lete hain?”

Main bolne hi wali thi, “Nahi, bas—” Meera ne beech mein kaat diya, “Haan. Chai.”

Aur woh chal padi.

Maine uski peeth dekhi. Itni familiar. Itni alien.

Main ne apne jaw ko tight kiya aur uske peeche chal di.

Chai Aur Chup

Chai stall ke paas ek aadmi newspaper se pankha jaisa kuch banake khada tha. Steel ke kulhads ki bhap, cutting chai ki meethi smell, aur bun maska ke packet—sab milke ek aisa scene bana rahe the jahan logon ke paas bolne ke liye kuch na kuch hota hai, phir bhi kai log chup hi rehte hain.

Hum teenon ek chhoti si table ke paas khade the. Baithne ki jagah kam thi. Main automatically apne bag ko apne pair ke bilkul paas set kar ke khadi rahi.

Meera ne chai li aur seedha ek sip le liya. “Hmm. Achhi hai.”

Main ne abhi tak cup ko touch bhi nahi kiya tha. “Itni garam hoti hai.”

“Chai garam hi achhi hoti hai,” usne bola. “Aur zindagi thodi kam garam.”

Suresh ne bina drama ke bun maska ka packet khola, ek piece tod ke ek side rakh diya. “Aap log Goa kis liye ja rahe hain?”

Main ne jawab dene se pehle Meera ko dekha. “Family emergency.”

Meera ne apni chai mein cheeni aur daali, jaise emergency ka flavor usse aur chahiye. “Aaji ki tabiyat.”

Suresh ne sir hilaaya. “Achha. Toh phir safar kaafi lamba hoga aap donon ke liye.”

Kya matlab tha uska? Main ne uski taraf dekha. Woh bas chai peene mein busy tha, lekin uska tone aisa tha jaise usne sab dekh liya ho—meri tight posture, Meera ka carefree leaning, hamari beech ki woh invisible wall.

Meera ne thoda sa side glance diya. “Aarti ko lamba safar pasand nahi.”

Maine turant kaha, “Mujhe lamba safar pasand nahi nahi hai.”

Meera ne eyebrows utha ke mujhe dekha. “Yani pasand hai?”

“Main bas—”

“Control karna chahti hai,” usne bahut halka sa, bahut casually bola.

Aur mere haath mein chai ka cup ek second ke liye freeze ho gaya.

Suresh ne dono ko dekh liya, phir bina kisi interest ka show kiye newspaper fold kiya. “Train mein AC theek hai. Par Konkan side mein kabhi kabhi signal delay hota hai. Aap log patience rakhiyega.”

Main boli, “Mujhe patience hai.”

Meera ne cup se upar dekhkar kaha, “Uske paas time table hai. Patience doosri cheez hai.”

Maine usse ghura. “Tum har baat ko joke kyun bana deti ho?”