Tram Pandal Aur Do Chup Log

Subah ka Kolkata apni usual speed mein nahi, ek alag hi mood mein tha. Durga Puja ka time tha, toh hawa mein phoolon ki khushboo thi, streets pe light strings latak rahe the, aur old tram route ke around ek aisi garmi thi jo sirf crowd ki nahi, yaadon ki bhi hoti hai. Bapi, yaani Anirban “Bapi” Chatterjee, apni faded blue shirt ke button theek karte hue Riya ko dekh raha tha jo apne school bag ko ek kandhe se dusre kandhe pe shift kar rahi thi.

“Time pe nikalna hai,” Bapi ne bas itna bola.

Riya ne aankh utha ke dekha. “Haan, mujhe pata hai. Aap har din same line bolte ho.”

Bapi ne kuch reply nahi kiya. Woh waise bhi zyada bolta nahi tha. Retired tram conductor tha, ab kabhi-kabhi tea stall pe help kar leta tha, aur Puja ke time pe to uska ek fixed kaam ban gaya tha—Riya ko saath leke shopping, arrangements, aur jo bhi list bachi ho, woh complete karna. Bahar se sabko lagta tha ki Bapi bas ek responsible tau hai, jo niece ke liye sab manage kar raha hai. Par andar? Andar uske andar ek purani silence thi, jo usne un dinon ke baad se pakad ke rakhi thi jab Riya ke parents chale gaye the.

Riya uski niece thi, 16 saal ki, sharp, thodi rebellious, aur bahut zyada observant. Woh dikhati thi ki usse Puja shopping ya rituals mein koi interest nahi hai, par sach yeh tha ki uska gussa uske darr se bada tha. Use lagta tha agar woh parents ke baare mein zyada bolegi, toh dard aur fresh ho jayega. Aur agar bolegi hi nahi, toh kahin yaadein dheere-dheere fade na ho jaayein.

Tram station tak dono chup-chap chal rahe the. Bapi ke shoes thode ghis chuke the, aur Riya ke sneakers mein kal ki baarish ka halka sa stain tha. Old route wali tram aayi toh uski khad-khad awaaz ne jaise poore neighborhood ko jaga diya. Nikhil, driver, apni seat se halka sa haath uthakar muskuraya.

“Arre Bapi-da, aaj phir shopping mission?” Nikhil ne kaha.

Bapi ne bas head nod kiya. “Haan, bhai. List hai.”

Riya seat pe baith gayi, window ke paas. Tram dheere-dheere move karne lagi. Bahar se pandal ke giant gates dikh rahe the, ek taraf clay idol wali gali, dusri taraf saree market, aur beech mein woh familiar old city ka chaos—cycle riksha, handcart, chai ki dukaan, aur loudspeaker pe puja songs. Nikhil ne route ke beech mein ek purani si line boli, jaise woh sirf driver nahi, memory ka keeper bhi ho.

“Is lane pe pehle Riya ke ma-baap bhi aate the, yaad hai?” usne casually kaha, jaise weather discuss kar raha ho.

Riya ki ungliyaan bag strap pe tight ho gayin. Bapi ne khidki se bahar dekha, jaise us line ko sun nahi raha ho. Lekin sun raha tha. Hamesha sunta tha.

Pehla stop saree market tha. Bapi ne ek shopkeeper se baat ki, Riya ko ek simple cotton saree dikhayi—cream with red border, bilkul basic, no drama. Riya ne uski taraf dekha bhi nahi.

“Mujhe nahi dekhna,” usne seedha bol diya.

“Dekh le,” Bapi ne kaha. “Kal puja pe pehenni hai.”

“Main koi mannequin nahi hoon.”

Shopkeeper ne awkward smile di aur dusri customer ko dekhne laga. Bapi ki jaw tight ho gayi, par usne kuch bola nahi. Woh bas price poochta raha, material check karta raha, aur bill pocket mein rakh liya. Riya ko lag raha tha ki Bapi usse bas ek checklist item ki tarah treat kar raha hai. Har cheez list mein hai—saree, flowers, sweets, diya, gifts. Bas feelings ka item list mein nahi tha.

Next stop clay idol wali gali thi. Yahan mitti ki smell alag hi hoti hai—wet earth, paint, aur fresh straw ki mil-juli si. Riya ko bachpan ka ek scene yaad aaya: uski mother ek chhoti idol ko dekh kar bol rahi thi, “Dekho, maa ke aankhon mein kitni shanti hai.” Us pal usne apni mother ke haath mein ek green bangle dekhi thi. Ek simple si bangle, thodi old-fashioned, par unke liye special.

Aaj, ek stall ke kone pe, usne wahi green bangle dekh li. Not exactly same, par same kind. Riya ka saans jaise ruk gaya. Usne bina soche bangle ko उठा लिया.

Bapi ne dekha. Uski aankhon mein ek second ke liye kuch chamka—recognition, pain, aur phir woh usual guardedness.

“Yeh…” Riya ki awaaz suddenly low ho gayi. “Maa ki thi na?”

Bapi ne kuch pal ke liye jawab nahi diya. Phir bola, “Similar hai.”

Riya ne bangle ko apni ungliyon mein ghumaya. Uski aankhon mein pani aa gaya, aur usne gussa usi pani pe chadha diya. “Aapko sab yaad hai, phir bhi aap bolte kyun nahi?”

Bapi ne seedha uski taraf dekha. “Yaad rakhna aur har waqt bolna same cheez nahi hoti.”

Riya ne hansi jaisi koi sound nikali, par woh hansi nahi thi. “Wow. Great. Matlab bas duty karo aur khatam?”

Bapi ne bangle stall wale ko paise diye. “Duty nahi hai.”

“Toh kya hai?” Riya ki awaaz thodi tez ho gayi. “Aapko lagta hai shopping karwa dene se sab okay ho jayega? Parents ki yaad ko bas saree aur sweets se replace kar doge?”

Aas-paas ke log dekhne lage. Bapi ne thoda side mein khinch kar usse bola, “Yahan mat.”

“Kyoon?” Riya ne almost hiss kiya. “Aapko awkward lag raha hai?”

Bapi ka face hard ho gaya. “Mujhe awkward nahi lag raha. Mujhe samajh nahi aa raha ki kya bolun.”

“Bas wahi toh problem hai.”

Woh line sunke Bapi kuch der ke liye bilkul silent ho gaya. Riya ne bangle wapas stall pe rakh di aur aage badhne lagi. Bapi uske peeche-peeche chala, lekin uski chal mein pehli baar hesitation thi.

Tram ke next ride mein dono alag-alag corner mein baith gaye. Riya window ke paas muh phere baithi thi, aur Bapi door ke paas, jaise unke beech ek invisible wall khadi ho. Tram andar se full thi—school kids, office wale, ek dadi jo nariyal ka packet sambhal rahi thi, aur ek couple jo Puja gifts ke bags ke neeche dab gaya tha. Nikhil mirror se dekh raha tha, par kuch bola nahi.

Bapi ke haath mein list thi, par uski nazar list pe nahi, Riya pe thi. Usko yaad aaya jab Riya chhoti thi aur uski maa usse puja ke din red ribbon baandhti thi. Riya tab har idol ke saamne ruk kar sawal karti thi—“Maa, yeh goddess kaun hai?” “Papa, yeh light itni bright kyun hai?” Aur uske father hamesha hans ke bolte, “Because Puja mein sab kuch extra special hota hai, beta.”

Ab woh dono nahi the. Aur Bapi ne uske baad ek din bhi unke baare mein theek se baat nahi ki thi. Usse lagta tha ki agar woh zyada bolega, toh yaad aur heavy ho jayegi. Par Riya ke liye silence bhi ek weight tha.

Agla pandal thoda quieter tha. Yahan crowd kam tha, aur ek side pe chhota sa sitting area bana hua tha. Mitali Didi, jo local committee volunteer thi, unko dekhte hi smile ke saath aayi.

“Arre Bapi-da! Riya, aa gayi?” Woh warm thi, bilkul waise jaise neighborhood ki woh aunty-type log jo bina pooche bhi mood samajh jaate hain. “Chalo, andar aa jao. Thoda rest bhi kar lo.”

Bapi ne formal smile di. “Bas do minute.”

Mitali Didi ne Riya ki taraf dekha, phir Bapi ki taraf. Uski aankhon mein woh sab tha jo bolne ki zarurat nahi hoti. “Thak gaye hoge dono. Pandal ke side mein chai bhi hai.”

Riya ne jawab nahi diya. Woh bas ek corner mein jaa kar khadi ho gayi. Wahan ek small shelf pe kuch old puja accessories rakhe the—chhoti si sindoor dibbi, ek silver diya, aur ek pair of green glass bangles. Riya ka dil phir se dhadak gaya. Same kind. Bilkul same.

Usne ek bangle uthayi, aur is baar uski aankhon se aansu nikal gaye. Woh unhe rok nahi paayi. Bapi ne dekha aur uska face pehle se zyada pale ho gaya.

“Riya…” usne dheere se kaha.

Riya ne uski taraf dekha, aur jo words nikal aaye, woh uske andar ka saara dara hua gussa the. “Aapko toh bas duty nibhani hai. Mujhe parents ki yaad ke saath jeena hai. Aapko toh koi farq nahi padta na? Bas shopping complete ho jaye, bas pandal dekh lein, bas list khatam ho jaye.”

Bapi ne ek kadam aage badha, phir ruk gaya. Usne pehli baar aise dekha jaise uske paas words hain hi nahi, sirf ek bhaari saaf saaf sach hai.

“Farq padta hai,” usne finally bola, awaaz low thi. “Isliye toh bolta nahi hoon.”

Riya ne eyebrows raise ki. “Kya?”

Bapi ne gehri saans li. “Tere ma-baap ke baad, main har baar sochta tha kuch aisa na bol doon jo tujhe aur hurt kar de. Main uncle ban ke reh gaya, par sahi mein…” Woh thoda ruka. “Sahi mein main dar gaya tha. Teen saal se har din yahi sochta raha ki agar main unka naam zyada lunga, toh tu toot jaayegi.”

Riya chup ho gayi.

Bapi ki awaaz aur soft ho gayi. “Aur yeh route… yeh lanes… yeh tram… yeh sab unko pasand tha. Teri maa ko green bangles pasand the. Tere papa ko yahan ki chai. Main tujhe isliye le aata hoon kyunki mujhe lagta hai agar main yeh sab chhod diya, toh unki yaadein bhi kahin khud-b-khud chhoot jaayengi. Main bol nahi paaya, par main rokta raha. Samjha nahi paaya, par saath raha.”

Riya ke face pe pehli baar gussa kam hua. Uski aankhon mein ab confusion aur guilt mix ho gaya tha. “Toh aap gussa isliye nahi hote the?”

Bapi ne halka sa smile kiya, ek sad-sa smile. “Main gussa kam, helpless zyada hota tha.”

Mitali Didi door se sab samajh gayi thi, par usne beech mein ghusna theek nahi samjha. Bas chai ke do cup le aayi aur shelf pe rakh diye. “Thodi garam hai. Peelo. Pandal ke andar emotions se pehle chai zaroori hoti hai,” usne halka sa mazak mein bola.

Riya ne pehli baar us din almost smile ki. Bapi ne cup uthaya, par peene se pehle usne Riya ki taraf dekha.

“Main perfect nahi hoon,” usne kaha. “Par main hoon. Bas itna hi.”

Riya ne bangle shelf se uthayi aur is baar usse wapas nahi rakha. Woh uske haath mein chhoti si yaad ki tarah tik gayi. “Mujhe bhi dar lagta hai,” usne dheere se bola. “Ki agar main unke baare mein baat kam karungi, toh unka face dhundhla ho jayega.”

Bapi ne uski taraf dekha, aur is baar usne jawab dene se pehle socha nahi. “Dhundhla nahi hoga. Tu yaad rakhegi toh kaafi hai. Aur agar kabhi words na mile, toh bhi theek hai. Yaad ka matlab sirf bolna nahi hota.”

Riya ne cup dono haathon se pakad liya. “Toh phir aap pehle bolte kyun nahi the?”

Bapi ne thoda sa kandha uthaaya. “Old habit. Tram conductor tha na. Ticket punch karna aata tha, feelings express karna nahi.”

Riya ne is baar sach mein halki si hansi di. Bapi ne bhi, bahut halki si, almost invisible smile di. Itna kaafi tha.

Shaam tak unka shopping list half complete hua. Saree mil gayi, flowers mil gaye, sweets bhi. Riya ne apni mother ki pasand ki ek simple accessory choose ki—same green glass bangles, bas ek pair. Bapi ne bina kuch kahe payment kar diya. Is baar usne “jaldi kar” nahi kaha. Is baar usne bas wait kiya.

Last tram ride pe dono side by side baithe the. Crowd kam tha. Window se lights blur hoti ja rahi thi, aur route ke corners pe pandal ki music halki si sunai de rahi thi. Nikhil ne rear mirror se unhe dekha aur apni usual calm voice mein bola, “Aaj route thoda heavy tha, hai na?”

Bapi ne pehli baar seedha jawab diya. “Haan. Par chal gaya.”

Riya ne khidki se bahar dekhte hue kaha, “Maa hoti toh is saree pe has deti. Bolti, ‘Too safe choice.’”

Bapi ne softly hansa. “Aur papa bolte, ‘Safe choice hi best choice hoti hai.’”

Riya ki aankhon mein phir se nami aayi, par is baar woh usse chhupane ki koshish nahi kar rahi thi. “Aapko kaise yaad hai itna?”

Bapi ne khidki se bahar dekhte hue kaha, “Kyoonki main unko bhoolna nahi chahta tha. Bas bol nahi paaya.”

Riya ne apna head halka sa unke shoulder ke paas lean kiya, almost unnoticeable. “Toh ab bolna start kar dijiye.”

Bapi ne uski taraf dekha. Phir dheere se bola, “Theek hai. Kal se. Abhi ke liye… chai peete hain.”

Riya ne smile ki. “Deal.”

Tram aage badhti rahi, khad-khad karti hui, jaise city khud unke beech ki silence ko gently carry kar rahi ho. Durga Puja ka season tha, isliye sab kuch bright tha—lights, faces, pandals, noise. Par un dono ke beech ab ek aur roshni thi, thodi soft, thodi imperfect, lekin real. Yaad ab burden nahi thi. Yaad ek route ban gayi thi, jisme dono saath chal sakte the.

Aur Kolkata, apni purani tram lines ke saath, bas unhe dekh raha tha—jaise keh raha ho, “Theek hai. Tum log aage badho. Main yaad rakhoonga.”

storydilse ke pyaare readers, itna time nikaal kar is kahani ko padhne ke liye dil se thank you. Aapka pyaar aur support hi humein aisi relatable, emotional stories likhne ki inspiration deta hai. Aise hi saath bane rahiye, aur apni stories, feelings aur memories humare saath share karte rahiye. Shukriya, aur phir milte hain ek naye dil se likhe gaye safar ke saath.