Konkan Local

Train ke andar lights ne thoda sa warm ho kar raat ka pehla rang dena shuru kiya. Log settle ho rahe the. Kisi ne blanket nikala. Kisi ne headphones. Kisi ne Tiffin khola. Suresh aage wale coach ki taraf gaya tha; kabhi kabhi uski presence corridor mein dikh jaati, phir gayab.

Maine apne lap par haath rakhe rakhe bola, “Meera.”

“Hmm?”

“Tumne us waqt mujhe call kyun nahi kiya?”

Woh seedha ho gayi. Window se nazar hata ke meri taraf dekha. Train ki halki jhatkon mein uska face baar-baar light aur shadow mein aa raha tha.

“Kaunse waqt?”

“Us waqt jab… jab sab hua tha.”

Uske jaw mein ek chhota sa movement hua. “Aur tumne mujhe kyun nahi kiya?”

Main ne hoth bheench liye. “Main—”

“Bas. Tum hamesha main.” Uski voice mein gussa kam, thakaan zyada thi. “Main ne call kiya tha, Aarti.”

Maine palat kar usse dekha.

Usne ek second ke liye apna phone nikala. Purana model, cracked corner. “See?”

Main ne screen par saved call log jaisa kuch dekha. Teen missed calls. Purane dates. Mere haath thode se thande ho gaye.

“Main ne call kiya tha,” usne dhire se bola. “Aur phir message bhi. Tumne reply nahi kiya.”

Mujhe yaad aaya—yaad nahi, ek blur. Mera phone silent par tha. Meetings. Office. Ek emergency presentation. Ghar pahunch ke main itni exhausted thi ki kisi aur cheez ke liye space hi nahi bachi thi. Ya shayad space tha, par main ne use kholne se darr lagaya.

“Main ne dekha nahi,” maine kaha.

Meera ne hansi nahi. “Haan. Yeh tumhara style hai.”

“Style?”

“Cheezon ko dekh ke bhi na dekhna.”

Main ne apni aankhen window par gada di. Sea andhera ho raha tha, par khatam nahi. Hamesha kuch na kuch dikhta reh raha tha. Jaise kuch bhi poori tarah gayab nahi hota.

Maine dheere se poocha, “Tumne mujhe blame kiya tha?”

“Main ne tumhe call kiya tha, Aarti.”

“Uske baad?”

“Uske baad tum gayab.”

“Main gayab nahi thi.”

“Tum ho gayi thi.”

Uski awaaz mein koi melodrama nahi tha. Bas ek truth tha, seedha aur namkeen.

Mere throat mein kuch atak gaya.

Train ne ek aur curve liya. Khidki ke bahar sea ka ek lamba stretch chamak utha. Aur mujhe woh raat yaad aayi jab ghar mein sabki awaazein unchi ho gayi thi. Aaji ka naam, property, zimmedari, “tumhari maa ne,” “tumhare father ne,” “Meera ko mat involve karo,” “Aarti ko toh pehle hi samajh hai”—aur main, jo sabko chup karwana chahti thi, khud chup ho gayi thi. Meera shayad isi silence mein doob gayi thi. Ya maine usse dooba diya tha.

Mujhe pehli baar ehsaas hua ki jo maine control mana tha, woh kahi na kahi cowardice bhi tha.

Sea ne khidki ke bahar se ek lambi saans li.

Baarish, Brake Aur Baat

Raat ke lagbhag dus baje the jab train achanak dheemi hui.

Pehle jhatka. Phir aur slow. Phir ek lamba, unnerving stop.

Log seedhe ho gaye. Kisi ne “Kya hua?” poocha. Kisi ne window ke bahar gardan nikaali. Announcement aayi—technical issue, thodi der delay. Konkan line. Sab normal. Sab not normal.

Maine apna phone nikala. Signal weak. Time dekh ke irritation hui, phir guilt hui ki irritation bhi time dekh ke hoti hai.

“Great,” Meera ne kaha. “Ab tumhara schedule aur maza lega.”

“Bas kuch der ka delay hai.”

“Tumne ye line confidently kaise boli?”

Suresh corridor mein dikh gaya. Usne train ke management wale tone mein kaha, “Madam, thoda rukna padega. Track ke paas ek problem hai. Zyada der nahi.”

Uski voice mein panic nahi tha. Sirf information. Practicality.

Main ne poocha, “Koi danger toh nahi?”

“Abhi nahi. Bas wait.”

Meera ne khidki se bahar dekha. Andhera aur baarish ka first smell aa raha tha. “Mausam change ho raha hai.”

Suresh ne nod kiya. “Sea side mein aisa hota hai. Baarish aati hai toh train bhi sochti hai.”

Maine uski baat par almost smile kiya. “Train sochti hai?”

“Arre madam,” usne kaha, “Konkan line par sab sochta hai. Track, driver, passenger—sab.”

Jab woh aage badh gaya, hum dono chup the. Phir train ke bahar platform-side light mein ek aadmi dikhai diya—fisherman jaisa. Fifty ke aas-paas, dhoti ka ek corner fold kiye hue, shoulders pe raincoat, haath mein rope aur ek chhota torch. Usne Suresh se kuch baat ki, phir hamari coach ki taraf aaya.

“Madam,” usne frame ke side se awaaz di. “Paani ka drain idhar jam ho gaya hai. Agar koi bucket ya kuch ho toh nikaal do. Platform ke side se bhi madad kar dunga.”

Suresh turant uske paas gaya. “Aap yahan kaise?”

“Main yahin ke paas rehta hoon,” fisherman ne bola. “Baarish mein track ka yahi haal hota hai.”

Maine khidki se dekha. Woh bas ek local aadmi tha, par uski body language mein aisa confidence tha jaise sea ka mood usse personally pata ho.

Suresh ne humse kaha, “Madam, aap dono thoda door hat ke baith jaiye. Main luggage check karta hoon. Agar pani aaya toh neeche ka item upar rakhna.”

Maine immediately bag ko pakad liya. “Main help kar deti hoon.”

“Main kar leta hoon,” Suresh ne kaha.

Nahi, usne yeh is tarah nahi kaha ki “aap mat kariye.” Usne is tarah kaha ki “main yahan hoon.”

Aur phir hua woh jo main pasand nahi karti—mere control ke bahar kuch.

Baarish ka ek tez jhonka aaya. Window ke paas condensation. Coach mein halki si garmi. Kisi ne ek tray girayi. Kahin door brake ka lamba saaw sound. Train aur zyada ruk gayi.

Meera ne mere bag ki zipper kholke tissue nikala aur bola, “Tension mat lo.”

Maine use dekha. “Mujhe tension nahi hai.”

“Of course.”

“Sach mein.”

Usne tissue mere haath mein diya. “Tumhara nose red ho raha hai.”

“Baarish ki wajah se.”

“Hmm. Baarish bhi tumhara excuse hai.”

Maine tissue le liya, phir uski taraf dekha. “Tum hamesha aise kyun karti ho? Jaise sab easy ho.”

Usne shoulder se chhota sa shrug kiya. “Easy nahi hai.”

“Phir?”

“Main bas dikhati nahi.”