Riksha Wali

Bhorer Gali

Subah abhi poori tarah phuti bhi nahi thi. Kolkata ki galiyon mein woh jo ek nam-nam si thandak hoti hai na, jo raat aur din ke beech latki rehti hai, usmein main apna riksha dhakel rahi thi. Ghar ke bahar hi khada tha. Karim ka purana riksha—lakdi ki seat, lohe ka frame, aur handle ke paas ek jagah ghis kar chamak gayi thi. Us chamak ko dekhkar har roz lagta tha jaise woh mujhe takta ho, ya yaad dila raha ho ki ab iski zimmedari meri hai.

Karim ko gaye do saal ho gaye the. Din gin kar nahi rakhe the maine. Pehle mahine mein to ginne ki himmat bhi nahi thi. Bas itna yaad hai—hospital ki safed roshni, uske haath ki thandi pakad, aur nurse ka woh chehra jo kuch bolne se pehle hi sab bol deta hai. Bukhar se shuru hua tha. Phir saans. Phir ek lambi shaam, jo raat mein badal kar bhi khatam nahi hui. Uske baad ghar mein jo khaamoshi aayi, woh aaj tak bethi thi. Main us khaamoshi ko kabhi roti mein, kabhi bill mein, kabhi school fee slip mein mehsoos karti thi.

Riksha saaf karte waqt meri ungliyon mein tel aur mitti ghul jaati thi. Main har din handle ko kapde se ponchti, seat ko jhaadti, aur sochti—Karim hota to kya kehta? Shayad hans kar bolta, “Khairun, itna chamakane ki zarurat nahi.” Phir khud hi sochti, wo hota to main aaj yeh sab akeli kyun karti?

Andar se Rini ki khansi ki halki si awaaz aayi. Main palat kar dekhi. Woh apni choti si chatai par soyi padi thi, baal aankhon par, school uniform kal raat hi dhokar tang ki thi. Uski nind mein bhi thakan thi. Ghar mein main aur woh hi the. Aur jab main usse dekhti, mujhe apni thakaan ka bhi sharm aata tha.

“Ma,” usne aankh kholte hi poocha, “aaj tum phir jaldi jaogi?”

“Ha,” maine dheere se kaha. “Par pehle tu school ke liye uth.”

Woh uth kar baith gayi. “Fees ka kya hua?”

Mera haath ek pal ko riksha ke handle par ruk gaya. “Ho jayega, Rini.”

Woh mujhe dekh rahi thi. Bachche sab kuch nahi bolte, par samajh sab lete hain. Usne bas ek baar “theek hai” kaha aur kapde sametne lagi. Main uski taraf peeth karke saans li. Jhooth bolna mujhe pasand nahi tha. Par sach bolne ki taqat kabhi kabhi kisi aur din ke liye rakhni padti hai.

Bahar se chai wale bhaiya ki aawaz aayi, “Garam chai! Garam!”

Main riksha le kar nikal padi. Aaj kiraya milega ya nahi, iska koi bharosa nahi tha. Par ghar ka chulha bharosa samajh ke nahi jalta.

Shombur Aankh

Riksha stand par pahunchte hi mujhe wahi nazar mil gayi—wo nazar jo auraton ko ek sawal ki tarah dekhti hai. Kaun aayi? Kyun aayi? Kya zarurat thi?

Shombu wahi khada tha, apni moti moochh ko ungli se sahlata hua. Umar pachas ke aas-paas, par uski aawaaz aur aadat dono purani basti ki deewar ki tarah sakht. Union leader tha. Stand ke rules uske muh se nikalte the jaise Bhagwan ki taraf se aaye ho. Aur uske liye rules aurat-mard ke hisaab se alag bhi ho sakte the, yeh alag baat thi.

Mujhe dekhte hi uske honth tedhe hue. “Arre, Khairun, phir aa gayi?”

Main chup rahi. Riksha ko kinare lagaya.

“Bola tha na,” woh aage badha, “yeh kaam aurat ke bas ka nahi. Din bhar dhoop, sadak, gande log. Ghar sambhalo. Bachchi sambhalo.”

Maine handle ko aur kas kar pakda. “Main ghar bhi sambhal rahi hoon, aur bachchi bhi.”

Shombu ne hansi uda di. “Aur riksha bhi? Bahut himmat aa gayi hai tummein.”

Uske aas-paas khade do-teen aadmi muskura diye. Unmein se kisi ne kuch nahi bola. Mohalle ke mard jab kisi aurat ko neecha dikhaya ja raha ho, tab chup rehne mein bade maahir hote hain. Unki khamoshi bhi ek tarah ka saath hota hai.

Shombu ne ungli se stand ki zameen ko thoka. “Permit kahan hai?”

“Karim ka naam hai,” maine kaha. “Stand ka paisa main bhar rahi hoon.”

“Naam aurat ka nahi hai.” Uski aankh mein woh ajeeb si chamak thi jo apmaan ko mazaak bana deti hai. “Aur waise bhi, union ki baat alag hai. Kal se riksha mat lana.”

Mere gale mein kuch atak gaya. “Matlab?”

“Matlab seedhi baat hai,” usne shoulder uchaate hue kaha. “Tumse nahi hoga. Aurat aadmi ka kaam karegi to stand ka nizam kharab hoga.”

Maine ek kadam aage badhaya. “Nizam? Ya tumhara mann kharab hoga?”

Woh ekdum se ruk gaya. Shayad usne ummeed nahi ki thi ki main jawab dungi. Uske chehre par gussa ubhra. “Zubaan sambhal ke, Khairun.”

Mere haath kaanp rahe the, par awaaz seedhi nikli. “Main roz subah se raat tak zubaan sambhalti hoon, Shombu. Aaj tum sambhalo.”

Usne mere riksha ki seat par haath maara. “Bakwaas band. Stand chhod do.”

Mujhe laga abhi main ro padungi ya us par chilla dungi. Par us pal Rini ka chehra dikh gaya—fees slip mein lipta hua, school bag ko seene se lagaye. Main ek kadam aur aage badhi.

“Main kahin nahi jaa rahi,” maine kaha.

Shombu ke paas khade jawaan aadmi hansi dabate hue idhar-udhar dekhne lage. Usne aankhen sikodi. “Theek hai. Phir kal se yahan khade mat hona. Samjhi?”

Mainne bina jhukaye uski aankhon mein dekha. “Samajh gayi.”

Par andar se meri chhati mein aag daud rahi thi. Ghar ka kharcha, loan, Rini ki fees—sab ek saath mere sar par aakar khade ho gaye the. Shombu jaise aadmi ko jawab dena aasaan nahi hota. Woh sirf ek aadmi nahi hota; woh pura system ka chhota sa muh hota hai, jisse aurat ka hi gala pakadna aata hai.

Main riksha ko thoda aage kheenchi aur pehle sawari ke liye khadi ho gayi. Shombu ne mujhe ghoor ke dekha. Mujhe laga woh koi naya bahana bana dega. Par tabhi piche se ek awaaz aayi.

“Khairun didi, idhar.”