Sound Check, Sach Aur Saansein

Kohima ke us village road par shaadi ka scene bilkul festival jaisa tha. Pahadon ke beech se thandi hawa aa rahi thi, aur us thand ke beech DJ ka bass aise ghoom raha tha jaise poora gaon ek hi beat pe dhadak raha ho. Baraat aa chuki thi, log nayi shaadi ke kapdon mein chamak rahe the, aur mandap ke side mein Semo Chishi apna mixer board set kar raha tha — bilkul waise hi jaise koi doctor emergency theatre mein instruments check karta hai.

Semo ki age 42 thi, chehre pe extra expressions kam aur kaam zyada. Uska style simple tha: dekhna, samajhna, aur phir bina drama ke kaam nipta dena. Gaon mein log usko “main dekh lunga” wala aadmi bolte the. Aur sach bhi yahi tha. Agar mic mein feedback aaya, woh theek. Agar generator ne nakhre kiye, woh theek. Agar baarat wale uncle ne volume pe complaint ki, woh bhi theek. Semo ke paas har problem ka ek hi answer hota tha — “Arre, ho jayega.”

Uske saath uska bhatija Ato Chishi tha, 24 saal ka full-time dhol player aur part-time DJ assistant. Ato ka nature bilkul spark plug jaisa tha — jhat se jalta, jhat se phat-ta, aur phir khud hi panic mein doob jaata. Usko lagta tha ki life mein har cheez ka response turant dena chahiye, warna scene kharab ho jaata hai. Semo usko har baar bolta, “Ato, pehle saans le, phir bol.” Aur Ato har baar bolta, “Cha-cha, saans lene ka time hi nahi hai, problem already chal rahi hai.”

Aaj bhi wahi hua. Ato ne dhol ka strap theek se adjust bhi nahi kiya tha ki speakers mein se ek tez si hiss aayi. Usne turant aankhen phaila di. “Cha-cha! Feedback! Feedback aa gaya!” Semo ne bina dekhe kaha, “Volume thoda neeche kar.” “Par kaise?” Ato ne almost cheekh ke bola, “Aur agar mic phat gaya toh?” “Mic phat-ta nahi hai, Ato. Tu phat jaata hai,” Semo ne calmly jawab diya.

Log hans pade. Baraat ke kuch ladke already nach rahe the, aur bride-side ki aunties mandap ke paas gossip ka live commentary chala rahi thi. Village mein shaadi ka matlab sirf shaadi nahi hota; woh ek full-time public event hota hai jahan sabka mood, sabka opinion, aur sabki nazar included hoti hai.

Tabhi, bheed ke ek kone se ek ladki nikalti hui dikhi.

Woh seedha nahi chal rahi thi. Jaise uske pair zameen pe the hi nahi, bas kisi ne usko upar se neeche tak force karke bheja ho. Dupatta theek se sambhla hua nahi tha, saans tez thi, aur aankhon mein aisi thakan thi jo makeup se cover nahi hoti. Woh sound tent ke peeche aa kar ruk gayi, aur bas itna boli, “Mujhe yahan se thodi der chhupa lo.”

Semo ne pehle usko dekha, phir uske haath dekhe jo kaanp rahe the, phir uski aankhon ko dekha. Usne zyada sawal nahi kiye. Bas ek step side hoke bola, “Andar aa jao.”

Ato, jo hamesha har cheez ko film samajh leta tha, ek second ke liye freeze ho gaya. Uske dimaag mein seedha elopement, secret lover, aur village scandal ke full trailer chalne lage. “Cha-cha,” woh dheere se bola, “yeh… yeh kya scene hai?” Semo ne usko ek warning look diya. “Abhi scene mat bana.” Ladki ne sirf itna kaha, “Please.”

Semo ne usko speaker trailer ke side mein khade ek tarpaulin ke neeche baitha diya. Wahan se thandi hawa kam aati thi, par logon ki nazron se thodi protection mil jaati thi. Ato ne apne aap ko kaam mein busy dikhane ke liye mic check start kar diya, lekin uska haath kaanp raha tha. Usne bina soche bol diya, “Generator issue hai, bhai. Sound check thoda ruk gaya.” Phir dusri taraf se kisi ne pooch liya, “Kya hua?” Ato ne aur panic mein bol diya, “Nahi nahi, bas… DJ pause. Emotional break.” Semo ne aankh band karke ek lambi saans li. “Bas kar,” usne dabbi hui awaaz mein kaha, “Tu help kar raha hai ya funeral announce?”

Par Ato ka already damage control mode active ho chuka tha. Usne socha agar sabko lagega ki koi technical problem hai, toh koi jyada paas nahi aayega. Lekin problem yeh thi ki uski half-baked explanation ne ulta interest aur badha diya. Do teen aunties ne sun liya aur unka radar turant on ho gaya. “Arre, sound ke paas kya chal raha hai?” “Generator ka kya scene hai?” “Woh ladki kaun hai?” “Aur yeh DJ wale itne tense kyun lag rahe hain?”

Gaon mein rumor ka speed 5G se bhi zyada hota hai. Bas thodi der mein baat aise phail gayi jaise sound tent ke peeche koi secret hotline chal rahi ho. Koi bol raha tha Semo aur Ato kisi love marriage ko cover kar rahe hain. Koi keh raha tha bride bhaag gayi hai. Koi toh yeh bhi bol gaya ki DJ wale hi asli mastermind hain. Ato ne jab yeh suna toh uska chehra aise utra jaise uski dhol ki skin phat gayi ho.

Bride side ka elder uncle, jo already apne aap ko shaadi ka guardian saint samajhta tha, full rage mode mein aa gaya. 55 saal ka woh aadmi, shaadi ke kapdon se zyada apni authority ko polish karke aaya tha. Usne seedha Semo ki taraf ungli ki. “Tum log kya kar rahe ho? Hamari shaadi mein gadbad? Kya chhupa rahe ho?” Semo ne shaant awaaz mein kaha, “Uncle, bas thoda time dijiye.” “Time?” uncle ka voice aur tez ho gaya, “Shaadi mein time? Izzat ka sawaal hai!” Ato ne beech mein bolne ki koshish ki, “Actually, sound—” “Tu chup kar!” uncle ne usko kaat diya. “DJ wale hamesha smart bante hain.”