Roommate Ka “Bas 5 Minute”

Aarav ki life mein do hi cheezein bilkul fixed thi—subah 7:00 baje alarm aur Sameer ka “bas 5 minute.” Aur honestly, Aarav ko lagta tha ki agar duniya ka end bhi aa jaye na, Sameer tab bhi rajai mein ghusa hua bol dega, “Bhai, bas 5 minute aur.”

Har morning same scene hota tha. Aarav already shower le chuka hota, ironed shirt pehan chuka hota, office bag ready hota, aur kitchen mein khade hoke apni black coffee ka last sip leta. Udhar Sameer? Sameer ka bas ek pair bahar hota, baaki body blanket ke andar, jaise koi winter survival challenge chal raha ho.

“Abe Sameer, uth ja. Late ho jayega,” Aarav bolta.

“Bas 5 minute, yaar… abhi sapna bahut interesting tha,” Sameer half-asleep voice mein bolta aur phir pillow ko aur tightly pakad leta.

Aarav ka dil karta tha usi pillow ko window se bahar phenk de. Lekin phir wo control karta. Kyunki Aarav control ke bina jee hi nahi sakta tha. Uske liye schedule, punctuality aur discipline koi boring words nahi the—yeh survival tools the. Corporate analyst ki job thi, aur uska manager time se zyada strict tha. Agar 9:15 pe login kiya na, toh office ka mahaul aisa ho jata jaise Aarav ne company ka pura budget uda diya ho.

Sameer bilkul opposite tha. Freelance graphic designer, night owl, creative soul, aur “ho jayega” attitude ka poster boy. Raat ke 2 baje tak reels dekhna, design final karna, aur subah 11 baje uthke bolna, “Bro, main raat wala person hoon.” Aarav ko hamesha lagta tha ki Sameer ka “night owl” actually “lazy pigeon” ka polished version hai.

Dono ek rented 2BHK mein Noida mein rehte the. Flat chhota tha, par unki daily drama series ka content unlimited tha. Ek side Aarav ka neat corner—books aligned, charger rolled properly, socks fold karke drawer mein. Dusri side Sameer ka kingdom—half-open sketchbook, coffee mugs, random cables, aur ek chair jisme kapde permanently resident the.

Subah ka ritual itna regular tha ki building ke security uncle bhi predict kar lete the. “Arre beta, aaj bhi Sameer ji late?” Aarav bas ek thaka hua smile de deta. “Haan uncle, bas 5 minute.”

Aur uncle haste hue bolte, “5 minute ke naam pe to aadha ghanta nikal jaata hai, beta.”

Aarav ke liye yeh joke nahi, daily torture tha.

Us din bhi kuch alag nahi tha. Aarav ready tha, laptop bag shoulder pe tha, aur Sameer wahi blanket mein. Aarav ne bedroom light on ki.

“Sameer, uth. 8:30 ho gaya.”

“Hmm…”

“Office nahi jaana kya?”

“Jaana hai… bas 5 minute.”

Aarav ne ek gehri saans li. “Main jaa raha hoon. Tujhe pata hai na aaj meri important meeting hai.”

Sameer ne aankh kholkar aadhi si smile di. “Haan bhai, all the best. Tu tension mat le, main uth jaunga.”

Yeh line Aarav ne last six months mein kam se kam 300 baar suni thi. Aur har baar same end—Sameer ke liye 5 minute ka matlab hota tha 20-25 minute, kabhi kabhi 40.

Aaj office mein unka quarterly review tha. Aur boss, Mr. Khurana, waise bhi mood ke king the. Unka face dekh ke hi pata chal jata tha ki promotion milegi ya humiliation.

Aarav ne tie theek ki, phone check kiya, aur boss ka message dekha:

“9:30 sharp conference room. Don’t be late. Important client discussion.”

Aarav ko pehle hi stress ho gaya. Usne sameer ke room ki taraf dekha. Rajai mein ek shape hil rahi thi. Usne man hi man socha, Isko chhod ke kaise jaun? Agar main nikal gaya aur yeh phir soya reh gaya, toh lock kaun karega? Aur agar yeh late utha toh kitchen mein kya karega?

Par agle hi second uske andar kuch toot gaya. Nahi, aaj nahi. Aaj woh Sameer ka wait nahi karega.

Aarav quietly room se nikla, apna bag uthaya, shoes pehne, aur hall ki taraf badha. Usne ek baar piche mud ke dekha. Sameer ab bhi blanket ke andar tha, bilkul safe, bilkul comfortable, bilkul irresponsible.

Aarav ne bina awaz kiye main door lock kiya. Keys pocket mein daali aur lift ki taraf chal diya.

Lift mein uska reflection dikh raha tha—ek tired, annoyed, overworked guy jo har din kisi aur ke “5 minute” mein phans jaata tha. Usne mobile nikala aur sameer ko message kiya:

“Main nikal gaya hoon. Aaj khud uth ke sambhal lena.”

Message sent. No extra emoji. No explanation. No guilt-filled paragraph. Bas ek line.

Lift ground floor pe aayi. Aarav bahar nikla aur metro station ki taraf walk karne laga. Thodi der ke liye uske shoulders halka feel hue. Jaise kisi ne uske head se invisible pressure hataya ho. Par phir guilt aaya—heavy, sticky, uncomfortable.

Shayad main overreact kar gaya? Par kya karun? Roz ka hai yaar. Main bhi toh insaan hoon.

Udhar flat mein, Sameer ne 8:40 pe ek aankh kholi. Phir dusri. Usne side table pe phone dekha. Ek unread message.

“Main nikal gaya hoon. Aaj khud uth ke sambhal lena.”

Sameer ne pehle toh socha Aarav mazaak kar raha hai. Phir usne room ka door dekha. Locked. Uska dimaag ek second ke liye blank ho gaya.

“Arre yaar… sach mein chala gaya?”

Usne blanket hata ke baithte hue phone check kiya. Ek missed call bhi nahi. Aarav ne is baar koi rescue mission nahi chalaaya tha. Sameer ko pehli baar samajh aaya ki Aarav ka subah ka routine sirf annoying nahi tha—wo ek invisible stress tha jo Aarav har din carry karta tha.

Sameer ne bed pe baithkar socha, Abe, main toh aadat se depend hi kar gaya tha. Aarav uthata tha, tabhi woh uthta tha. Aarav yaad dilata tha, tabhi uska din start hota tha. Aur kabhi kabhi Sameer ko yeh comfort lagta tha. Par aaj jab Aarav nahi tha, toh woh comfort achanak dependency lagne laga.

Tabhi phone ring hua. Client ka call.

Sameer ka dimaag ekdum se alert mode mein chala gaya. “Oh shit! 9 baje call tha!”

Woh bed se jump karke utha. “No no no, yeh kaise bhool gaya main!”