Pink Auto

Maine dono ko dekha. Unki aankhon mein yeh yakeen tha ki woh mujhe chhota kar rahe hain. Shayad unhein aisi aurat ki aadat nahi thi jo aankh jhukaa kar bhi unke pair mein na aaye.

“Risk sabmein hota hai,” maine dheere se kaha. “Sadak pe bhi, aur zindagi mein bhi.”

Mahendra ne aankhen sikod li. “Zyada bolne lagi ho.”

“Bolna kab mana tha?”

Uska chehra sakht ho gaya. “Yaad rakho. Yahan chalna hai toh line mein chalna padega.”

“Kaunsi line?”

“Jo humne banayi hai.”

Uski awaaz mein wahi purana faisla tha—line woh banayenge, route woh batayenge, aur aurat ko bas unke diye hue kone mein rehna hai. Sadak sabke liye thi, par izzat kuch logon ke liye hi bani thi.

Raju ne aur namak chhidka. “Aur waise bhi, aadmi ke kaam mein aurat ka kya kaam?”

Mere andar kuch hila. Gussa bhi, beizzati bhi, aur woh purana darr bhi jo kabhi gaya nahi tha. Main ne Meera ke school bag ka weight yaad kiya. Ghar ka kiraya. Bijli ka bill. Ration ka hisaab. Sab ek pal mein mere saamne aa gaya.

Main ne bas itna kaha, “Kaam ka aadmi-aurat se kya lena-dena?”

Mahendra ka chehra aur sakht ho gaya. “Bahut hoshiyar mat bano, Phoolmati. Is shehar mein pink auto chalani hai toh humse pooch ke chalna padega.”

Usne yeh aise kaha jaise meri zindagi usi ki permission par chal rahi ho.

Mujhe us pal samajh aaya ki yeh sirf route ka masla nahi tha. Yeh meri jagah ka masla tha.

Aur jab kisi aurat ki jagah chheenne ki koshish hoti hai na, toh baat auto se aage nikal jaati hai.

Doctor Saab

Dopehar ke waqt hospital side se ek passenger mila. Safed coat, seedha chashma, aur chehre par woh thakan jo sirf un logon ke paas hoti hai jo roz bahut dekhte hain aur kam bolte hain.

“RIMS tak chalna hai,” usne kaha.

“Baith jaiye.”

Woh baith gaya. Pehle kuch der chup raha. Phir mirror mein mujhe dekhne laga. Aise nahi jaise ghur raha ho. Jaise samajh raha ho ki jo cheez bahar se seedhi lag rahi hai, uske andar kitni mehnat lagi hogi.

Thodi der baad usne poocha, “Yeh aap chalati hain?”

“Ji.”

“Roz?”

“Roz.”

“Stand pe.”

“Ji.”

“Union wale pareshan karte hain?”

Main ne steering par nazar rakhte hue kaha, “Pareshani hi kaam ka doosra naam hai, Doctor saab.”

Usne halki si muskurahat di. “Main doctor hoon, andaza laga sakta hoon. Seedha boliye.”

Mujhe uska andaaz ajeeb tarah se accha laga. Na usmein taras tha, na mazaak. Bas seedha dekhne ki aadat.

“Pareshan karte hain,” maine sach bol diya. “Bolte hain aurat ho, auto ka kya karogi. Kabhi route se hata dete hain, kabhi passengers ko dara dete hain, kabhi fees badha dete hain. Kaam karna ho toh unke hisaab se, warna ghar baitho.”

Woh khidki se bahar dekhte hue bola, “Police ko bataya?”

Main ne halka sa hans kar saans chhodi. “Aur phir? Kal stand pe kaun khada hone dega? Chhoti earning hai. Upar se jhanjhat aur badh jaayega.”

“Dar ke chalte sab chup rehte hain,” usne kaha. “Isi ka faayda uthate hain.”

Main ne mirror mein uski taraf dekha. “Aap itna seedha kaise bol rahe hain?”

“Kyuki seedha hona aasaan nahi hota,” usne jawab diya. “Bas galat ko normal maan lena aur bhi aasaan hai.”

Ye line mere andar kahin seedha jaake lagi. Itne saalon mein log ya toh taras lete the ya taana. Ye pehla aadmi tha jo mujhe aise dekh raha tha jaise main mazaak nahi, ek insaan hoon.

“Main aapko lecture nahi de raha,” usne phir kaha. “Par agar koi cheez galat hai, toh uska record hona chahiye. Complaint. Date. Time. Witness.”

“Witness?” maine poocha.

“Main ho sakta hoon.”

Maine uski taraf seedha dekha. “Aap kyun madad karenge?”

Woh ek pal chup raha. Phir bola, “Kyunki aap apna kaam kar rahi hain. Ismein problem kya hai?”

Mujhe laga jaise kisi ne andar ke band kamre ka darwaza halka sa khol diya ho.

Hospital gate par utarte waqt usne apna card diya. “Ye number rakh lijiye. Legal aid wale ek dost hain. Kabhi zarurat pade toh call karna.”

Maine card ko dekha. Naam, number, clinic ka stamp. Sab kuch sach lag raha tha. Jaise kisi ne mujhe pehli baar kisi aur ke liye nahi, mere liye kuch diya ho.

“Dhanyavaad, Doctor saab.”

“Dhanyavaad ki baat nahi. Safe driving.”

Woh chala gaya. Main kuch der auto mein baithi rahi. Bahar shehar bhaag raha tha. Andar mere andar kuch dheere se seedha ho raha tha—jaise saalon se jhuka hua kandha pehli baar apni jagah pe aa raha ho.

Bitiya Ki Nazar

Shaam ko ghar laut kar main bas chappal utar hi rahi thi ki Meera daudti hui aayi. School se aate hi woh seedha meri taraf aati thi, jaise ghar ka asli darwaza main hi hoon.

“Maa! Aaj maine sabko bataya.”

“Kya bataya?”

“Ki meri mummy auto chalati hain.”

Main ne uski taraf dekha. “Aur phir?”

“Sabne poocha kaunsi auto. Maine bola pink wali.”

Uski aankhon mein ajeeb si chamak thi. Jaise usne koi prize jeet liya ho.

“Ek ladka bola pink auto toh ladkiyon ki cycle jaisi hoti hai,” usne nakh se kaha. “Maine bola—nahi, ye meri mummy ki gaadi hai.”

Main chup ho gayi.

“Teacher ne bhi suna,” woh aur excited hokar boli. “Unhone poocha ki tum roz chalati ho kya?”

“Phir?”

“Maine bola haan. Roz.”

Main ne uske gaal ko chhua. “Tumne bahut achha bola.”

Woh mere pair ke paas baith gayi. “Maa, tum thakti ho na?”

“Ha.”

“Phir bhi chalati ho?”

“Chalana padta hai, beta.”

Woh kuch der sochti rahi. Phir boli, “Mujhe tumhari auto achhi lagti hai.”

“Achhi kyun?”

“Kyuki woh tumhari hai.”

Us baat ne mujhe ek pal ke liye hila diya.

Main ne hansne ki koshish ki. “Aur kuch?”

“Teacher ne bola, kaam se pehchaan banti hai.”

“Hmm.”

“Main ne socha, phir toh tum famous ho.”

Is baar main sach mein hans padi. Thodi der ke liye ghar ka kamra halka ho gaya.