Lab Bench Par Therapy

Delhi ki garmi aur semester ki tension ka combination waise hi dangerous tha, aur us din lab mein meri partner ne bina dekhe bola—“Agar report fail hui na, main sach mein ro dungi.”

Main ne pipette ko side mein rakha aur uski taraf dekha. Sana Qureshi apne safety glasses ke upar se mujhe aise dekh rahi thi jaise mazaak kar rahi ho, but uski voice mein jo thin si crack thi, woh thodi alag thi. Lab mein baaki students apne-apne beakers aur test tubes ke saath busy the, aur AC bas naam ka chal raha tha. South Campus ka woh crowded practical room waise bhi hamesha thoda suffocating lagta tha, but us din hawa mein kuch aur heavy tha.

“Report fail?” maine calmly bola. “Pehle experiment toh pass ho jaane do.”

Sana ne snort kiya. “Arre wah, professor mode on. Dekho, mujhe judge mat karna, main already emotionally unstable hoon.”

Main ne uski taraf bas ek chhota sa nod kiya. Sana aise hi thi—fast-talker, sharp, always ready with a joke. Class mein sabko lagta tha woh chill hai, full-on no tension wali type. Main uske opposite tha. Main zyada bolta nahi tha, aur jab bolta bhi tha, usually practical points ya assignment deadlines ke baare mein. Log mujhe “kaafi composed” samajhte the. Main unhe correct nahi karta tha. “Main theek hoon” bolna aadat bhi thi aur shield bhi.

Us din humari pairing randomly hui thi. Practical teacher ne naam padhte hue bola, “Aarav aur Sana, together.” Sana ne meri taraf dekha aur bola tha, “Acha, tum ho woh silent guy. Great. Mujhe talking ka quota complete karna aasaan rahega.” Main bas smile kar diya tha. First impression mein hum bilkul opposite lage honge—woh loud, main quiet; woh jokes, main notes. Par shayad stress ke patterns surface ke neeche kaafi similar hote hain. Dono hi bas different ways mein drowning the.

First lab week mein humne kaam theek se kar liya tha. Sana ne environment light rakha, main ne calculations aur observation sheet sambhaal li. Teacher ne bola, “Good coordination.” Sana ne whisper karke bola, “Dekha? Science mein bhi chemistry hoti hai.” Main ne us time pe sirf “hmm” kiya tha, but sach yeh tha ki uske saath kaam karna easy tha. Woh awkward silence ko joke mein convert kar deti thi, aur main uske jokes ke beech ka real signal pakad leta tha. Pata nahi kaise, but ek comfortable rhythm ban gaya tha.

Phir deadline season aa gaya. Delhi-NCR ki usual fast life ke saath semester bhi race ki tarah chal raha tha—internals, assignments, viva prep, attendance ka drama, aur upar se metro mein push-and-pull. College gate se leke canteen tak sab log bas ek hi mode mein the: “bhai, bas survive karna hai.” Sana har roz same confidence wala face pehen ke aati thi. “Main toh ho gaya yaar, bas thoda sa revision baaki hai,” woh bolti, aur phir practical record ke page ulte jaati is tarah jaise usse yaad hi na ho ki kaunsa experiment kis topic ka tha.

Main bhi kuch alag nahi tha. Raat ko notes revise karta, formulas likhta, aur family ke messages ka reply ek hi line mein deta: “Haan, sab theek hai.” Sach yeh tha ki theek kuch bhi nahi tha. Mera chest aksar aise tight ho jaata tha jaise koi invisible hand usse squeeze kar rahi ho. But main us feeling ko kaam mein drown kar deta tha—dusron ki practical sheets check karna, lab ke shared printer se unke assignments nikalwana, kisi ka viva topic explain kar dena. Help karte rehne se apni anxiety thodi der ke liye chup ho jaati thi. Temporary silence, bas.

Sana ko bhi lagta tha ki main naturally calm hoon. Ek din canteen mein, jab hum dono chai ke liye line mein khade the, usne bola, “Yaar, tum itne shaant kaise rehte ho? Mere andar toh daily 17 tabs open hote hain.” Main ne kaha, “Bas aadat hai.” Woh has di. “Aadat ya numbness?” Main uss second kuch bola nahi. Canteen ka noise, chai-wale ki awaaz, aur kisi junior ka “bhai ek samosa extra” sab ek saath chal raha tha. Par uske question ne mujhe thoda der ke liye freeze kar diya tha.

Usi week lab mein ek experiment bigad gaya. Colour change jo aana chahiye tha, woh aaya hi nahi. Sana ne pehli baar bina joke kiye bas reagent bottle ko dekha aur long exhale kiya. “Nahi ho raha,” usne dheere se bola. “Mere paas aur patience nahi hai.” Main ne data sheet check ki. “Shayad proportion galat hua hai,” maine kaha. “We can redo it.”

“Redo?” Sana ne thoda sharply bola. “Aarav, yeh mock hai, final nahi. Kal family call hai, uske baad viva, phir assignment submission. Main already sab mein late hoon. Aur mujhe lag raha hai main har cheez mein fake kar rahi hoon.” Uski awaaz pehle sarcastic thi, phir suddenly soft ho gayi. Usne apni eyes rub ki aur laptop screen bandh kar di. “Sabko lagta hai main manage kar leti hoon. Par honestly, I’m tired.”

Woh pehli baar tha jab uski voice mein performance nahi thi. Main kuch seconds chup raha. Usually main logon ko turant solution deta tha—“yeh karo, woh karo, tension mat lo”—but us moment mein koi solution nahi tha jo uske face pe likhi exhaustion ko erase kar de. Main bas uske side mein khada raha aur bola, “Main bhi.”

Sana ne meri taraf dekha. “Kya?”

“Main bhi tired hoon,” maine repeat kiya, thoda awkwardly. “Bas dikhata nahi.” Itna bolte hi jaise koi lock khul gaya ho. “Mera bhi same scene hai. Main sabki problems sun leta hoon, par apni waali cheezein ignore karta rehta hoon. Lagta hai agar main ruk gaya toh sab gir jayega.” Main ne shoulder shrug kiya, jaise yeh confession normal ho. “But truth? I’m not that strong.”

Sana ne pehle mujhe dekha, phir table par bikhri sheets ko. “Okay,” usne slow voice mein bola, “yeh unexpectedly depressing tha.”

Main ne hansi rok li. “Tumhari language mein bole toh?”