Raat Ki Chaabi

Ramesh Kumar ko aadat thi ki ghar ka darwaza khulne ki awaaz se pehle hi uska dil samajh jaata tha ki Poonam aa gayi hai. Raat ke koi bhi do baje, kabhi dedh, kabhi teen—hospital duty ka koi fixed time nahi hota tha, bas itna pata hota tha ki beti thaki hui hogi, aankhon mein neend aur pairon mein dard hoga. Phir bhi woh chup-chaap cycle se ya kabhi auto pakad ke aati, purane saare gharon ki tarah unke chhote se kiraye ke makaan ke bahar wahi ek peeli si bulb ki roshni mein apni chhoti chaabi nikaalti. Dheere se lock kholti, darwaza bina shor ke andar dhakelti, aur seedha maa ke kamre mein ghus jaati.

Ghar ke andar ka routine bhi ekdum set tha. Poonam pehle maa ke paas jaati, blanket theek karti, paani ka glass bed ke side table par rakhti, aur medicines ka dabba ek baar check karti ki raat wali dose li gayi ya nahi. Maa, jo dikhne mein kamzor lagti thi par sab samajh jaati thi, bas aankhen khol ke beti ko dekhti aur halka sa muskurati. Phir Poonam kitchen mein jaake ek cup chai garam karti, ya kabhi seedha bartan mein se kal ke bache hue dal-chawal ko heat kar leti. Ramesh tab tak ya toh rickshaw ki seat par hi thaka hua pada hota, ya phir gali ke kone se aata hua dikh jaata, dupatta jaisa gamcha kandhe par daale, chehre par din bhar ki dhool aur zubaan par wahi purana line—“Sab theek chal raha hai.”

Par sach yeh tha ki sab theek kabhi nahi chalta tha. Bas ghar ke log thoda-thoda sambhal lete the.

Ramesh Kumar, 55 saal ka Bihar se aaya rickshaw-wala, apni family mein traditional head tha. Uska style old-school tha—kam bolna, zyada kaam karna, aur kabhi kisi ke saamne apni pareshaani na rakhna. Woh andar se bahut proud aadmi tha. Usko lagta tha ki ghar ko chalana uski zimmedari hai, aur agar woh thoda aur mehnat karega, thoda aur paise kama lega, toh sab manage ho jayega. Lekin uske dil ke ek kone mein ek dar bhi tha, jo woh kisi ko nahi batata tha—ki kahin uski beti Poonam par ghar ka bojh zyada na aa gaya ho. Kahin uski zindagi bas duty, maa ki dawa, aur ghar ke kharchon mein hi na ulajh kar reh jaaye.

Poonam 27 ki thi. Nursing assistant thi, hospital mein late-night duty karti thi, aur uski aankhon ke neeche ka halka sa darkness uski regular neend ki kami ka proof tha. Ghar mein sabko woh yahi kehti thi, “Shaadi time pe ho jayegi, tension mat lo.” Lekin sach yeh tha ki usne apni life ko jaise pause par rakh diya tha. Na usne kabhi kisi rishtedaar ko zyada seriously liya, na kisi sapne ko loudly chase kiya. Woh bas har din kaam karti, ghar aati, maa ko dekhbhaal karti, aur subah phir duty ke liye nikal jaati. Uske liye sacrifice koi drama nahi tha; woh bas routine ban chuka tha.

Maa sabse kam bolti thi, par sabse zyada notice karti thi. Uski tabiyat kaafi time se theek nahi rehti thi. Kabhi saans chadh jaati, kabhi pair mein sujan aa jaati, kabhi medicines ke side effects se woh aur thodi kamzor lagti. Phir bhi woh bachchon ko tension nahi dena chahti thi. Jab Poonam uske kamre mein aati aur puchhti, “Maa dard zyada toh nahi ho raha?” toh maa bas bol deti, “Nahi re beta, theek hai.” Lekin uski aankhon mein Poonam ke liye ek aisi nazar hoti thi jo bol rahi hoti—main sab dekh rahi hoon, tu bas thak mat.

Ghar mein Chhota Bhai, Deepak, 19 saal ka tha. College jaata tha, thoda helpful tha, par emotionally immature bhi. Kabhi maa ke liye paani le aata, kabhi market se sabzi utha laata, lekin zyada der tak koi responsibility usse pakad ke nahi rakhti thi. Agar ghar mein koi tension ho, toh woh pehle complaint karta—“Mere padhai ka kya?” ya “Mujhse hi sab kaam karwa lo.” Uske andar care thi, lekin consistency nahi. Aur yeh baat ghar mein sab jaante the.

Ek shaam, jab Ramesh ka rickshaw thoda jaldi aa gaya tha, aur Poonam bhi unusually pehle ghar pahunch gayi thi, tab baat nikal aayi. Maa ke kamre mein fan ki awaaz chal rahi thi, aur kitchen se halke se tadke ki smell aa rahi thi. Ramesh ne chai ka glass pakadte hue casually poocha, “Poonam, ab shaadi ke baare mein socha hai ya nahi? Umar ho gayi hai beta. Ab dekhna chahiye.”

Poonam ne bas cup neeche rakha. Uske chehre par ek pal ke liye confusion aaya, phir woh normal dikhne ki koshish karne lagi. “Abhi time hai papa. Shaadi time pe ho jayegi.” Usne wahi purana jawab diya, par is baar uski awaaz mein woh pehle wali smoothness nahi thi.

Ramesh ne uski taraf dekha. “Time pe? Kab tak? Log bolne lage hain. Main bhi dekh raha hoon. Ghar ki ladki hai, aise hi umar nikal jayegi toh?” Usne baat ko seedha rakha, thoda zyada hi seedha.

Poonam ke haath ka glass halka sa kaanpa. Deepak, jo corner mein baitha mobile scroll kar raha tha, chup ho gaya. Maa ne bhi nazar uthake dekha, par kuch boli nahi. Ramesh ko laga shayad beti kisi rishtedaar ko pasand nahi kar rahi, ya koi aur baat hai. Uska old-school dimaag turant conclusion par pahunch gaya ki Poonam kuch chhupa rahi hai.

Usne thoda gusse mein, thoda hurt hokar bol diya, “Main itna bhi kamzor nahi hoon ki beti ki shaadi na karwa sakun. Itne saal se mehnat kar raha hoon. Tum sabko lagta hai main kuch kar nahi sakta kya?”