Yellow Line se Life line tak

Yellow Line se Life line tak Category: Romance Labels: Delhi Metro Romance, Literary Lovers, Poetry & Books, Meerut to Dwarka, Daily Commutes ---

Part One: Pehli Nazar, Pehla Chapter

The thing about Delhi Metro ki Yellow Line is that it has a personality of its own. Vo rushes, vo crowd, vo strange intimacy of strangers packed together like rajma in a can—aur phir bhi, sab apni duniya mein khoye hue. Main hamesha Kashmere Gate se Rajiv Chowk jaati thi, apni marketing agency ki internship ke liye. Dophar ka time, comparatively khali compartments. That's where I first saw him.

November tha. Delhi ki sardi abhi sirf knock kar rahi thi, darwaza nahi tod rahi thi. I remember because I was wearing my nani's purani grey woollen sweater—vo jo itni comfortable hoti hai ki fashion ki koi parwah nahi rehti. I had Godaan in my hands, Premchand ki classic. Mummy ne kaha tha, "Beta, thoda asli literature bhi padh liya kar, Instagram reels ke alawa bhi kuch hai zindagi mein."

I was standing near the door, leaning against the metal railing, jab maine notice kiya ki mere saamne jo ladka baitha hai, uske haathon mein bhi wahi book hai. Same edition, same yellowed pages. Coincidence? Ya koi universe ka ishaara?

Main thoda zyada hi expressive hoon, Meerut ki upbringing ka asar hai. Meri aankhein badi-badi ho gayi—mummy kehti hain meri feelings mere chehre pe billboard ki tarah display hoti hain. Maine use dekha. Usne mujhe dekha. Phir usne meri book dekhi. Phir maine uski book dekhi. Phir hum dono ne ek doosre ko dekha aur... smile.

"Godaan?" usne pucha, awaaz itni soft thi ki metro ki announcement ke baad bhi saaf sunai di.

"Ji. Doosri baar padh rahi hoon," maine kaha, trying to sound sophisticated. "Pehli baar college mein thi, ab samajh aa rahi hai zyada depth."

"Sameer," usne apna haath aage badhaya.

"Anjali," maine haath milaya. Uske haath garam the, meri sardi se thithurati ungliyon ko achha laga.

"Rajiv Chowk?" usne pucha.

"Ji. Aap?"

"Huda City Centre. Last stop."

"Long journey."

"Worth it," usne kaha, aur uski aankhon mein kuch tha—koi sharaarat, koi curiosity. "Aapke favourite character kaun hai?"

"Horilal," maine turant kaha. "Uski complexity... paisa, power, aur phir uski vulnerability. Aap?"

"Jhuniya," usne kaha, aur mujhe thoda surprise hua. "Usmein resilience hai. Zameen se judi hui aurat, jo apni dignity ke liye ladti hai."

Metro ki announcement baji: "Rajiv Chowk, next station."

"Meri stop aa gayi," maine kaha, aur mujhe ajeeb sa disappointment hua. Itni der mein kya hi baat hoti hai?

"Kal?" usne pucha, casual sa, jaise hum purane dost ho. "Same time?"

"Same platform?" maine pucha, heart thumping thoda zyada.

"Platform number do, dophar ke do baje."

Main utri. Peeche mudke dekha. Vo khada tha, haath hila raha tha, Godaan abhi bhi uske haathon mein thi. Main platform se bahar nikli, aur mujhe pata tha—kal main zaroor aaungi.

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Part Two: Metro Ki Dophar, Kitabon Ki Raaten

Vo agle din nahi aaya. Main platform par khadi rahi, do baje se leke dhai baje tak. Phone ki battery bhi khatam ho gayi thi, maine do baar check kiya ki kahi uska message toh nahi aaya—par humne numbers exchange hi nahi kiye the. Stupid, Anjali, stupid.

teesre din, main late aayi. Internship mein presentation thi, nikalte-nikalte teen baj gaye. Jab main platform par pahunchi, toh vo wahan tha. Same grey jacket, same book, same calm chehra.

"Kal?" maine pucha, thodi narazgi se.

"Emergency deployment. Office se nikal nahi paaya," usne explain kiya, genuine regret uski awaaz mein thi. "Main aaya tha, chaar baje. Aap nahi thi."

"Main do baje aayi thi."

"Toh kal do baje?" usne eyebrow raise ki, half-smile ke saath.

"Pakka."

Aur waise shuru hui humari dosti. Nahi, dosti nahi—tehreeb. Vo Urdu word jiska matlab hota hai dosti se zyada, pyar se kam. Vo space jahan do log ek doosre ko samajhne lagte hain, bina kisi label ke.

Roz dophar, platform do. Kabhi main pehle aati, kabhi vo. Hum compartment ke ek kone mein khade hote, aur baat karte. Godaan khatam hui toh Nirmala shuru ki. Fir Raag Darbari. Fir Madhushala. Bachchan sahab ki shayari ne humare conversations ko ek nayi depth di.

"Sameer, aap itne calm kaise rehte ho?" ek din maine pucha. Metro ki khidki se Dilli ki dhool bhari hawa aa rahi thi, par uske chehre pe koi asar nahi tha.

"Web developer hona," usne kaha, half-smiling. "Code debug karte karte sabar aa jaata hai. Aap itni energetic kaise ho?"

"Content creator hona," maine mimic kiya uski style mein. "Reels banate-banate energy aa jaati hai. Plus, Meerut ki mitti mein kuch hai. Ganne ke khet, garam jalebi, aur mummy ki taanein—sab energy dete hain."

"Mummy ki taanein?" usne pucha.

"Oh, meri mummy toh artist hain taanein dene mein," maine kaha, halki si hassi ke saath. "Kal hi kehti hain, 'Anjali, teri umar ke ladkiyan shaadi karke bachche paida kar rahi hain, tu toh reels bana rahi hai.'"

Sameer ne hassa. "Meri papa retired teacher hain. Unka style alag hai. 'Beta, zindagi mein do cheezein kabhi delay nahi karni chahiye—decision aur regret. Dono ek saath aate hain.'"

"Papa wise hain."

"Papa strict hain," usne theek kiya. "Par fair bhi. Meri behen Riya unki favourite hai, kyunki vo doctor ban rahi hai. Main toh 'bas computer pe baitha rehta hai.'"

"Computer pe baithna bhi koi kam talent hai?" maine pucha, genuinely surprised. "Aap websites banate ho, apps banate ho. Yeh toh magic hai!"

Usne mujhe dekha, thodi der tak. Metro ki announcement baji—Huda City Centre, uska stop. Par vo nahi utra.

"Aapka stop aa gaya," maine kushaamad ki.

"Aaj nikalna nahi hai," usne kaha. "Aapke saath Rajiv Chowk tak chalta hoon."

Rajiv Chowk par main utri. Usne haath hilaaya. Main ruki, mudke dekha. Vo compartment ke andar se mujhe dekh raha tha, aur jab metro aage badhi, toh maine use hassate hue dekha—vo smile jo baad mein mere sapnon mein aane lagi.

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Part Three: Baatein, Yaadein, Aur Khule Darwaaze