Yellow Line se Life line tak

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

December aa gaya. Dilli ki sardi ab poori tarah se aa chuki thi. Humari metro meetings ab sirf book discussions nahi rehti thi. Hum apne bachpan ki baatein karte—main apne Meerut ke ghar ke baare mein, vo apne Dwarka ke flat ke baare mein.

"Mere ghar ke aage ek bada imli ka ped tha," maine ek din bataya. "Garmiyon mein hum bachche uspe chadhte the. Mummy kehti thi gir jaoge, par hum girte nahi the. Sameer, aapne kabhi ped chadha hai?"

"Engineering ke first year mein," usne kaha, serious chehre se. "Hostel ke peeche aam ka ped tha. Raat ko chori se chadh ke aam todte the."

"Sameer Bansal! Chor?" maine drama kiya.

"Engineering hostel mein sab chalta hai," usne kaha, defensive tone mein. "Survival of the fittest. Plus, mess ka khana... aap samajh sakti hain."

"Main samajh sakti hoon," maine kaha. "Meerut ke college mein hum bhi karte the. Chhole bhature ke liye boundary paar karna, guard se bachna..."

"Rebellious Anjali," usne tease kiya.

"Expressive Anjali," maine correct kiya. "Mummy kehti hain main zyada bolti hoon. Aapko bura lagta hai?"

"Nahi," usne kaha, aur uski awaaz mein kuch tha—koi warmth, koi acceptance. "Aapki baatein sunne mein achha lagta hai. Aapki awaaz mein... jaise koi story chal rahi ho. Real story."

Main chup ho gayi. Metro ki khidki se baahar, Dilli ki buildings chalti jaa rahi thi—concrete jungle, aur hum dono uske beech mein, ek chhote se compartment mein, apni duniya bana rahe the.

"Sameer," maine kaha, softly. "Aap kya chahte ho life se? I mean, long term?"

Vo socha. Sachi mein socha, jaise koi code likh raha ho apne mind mein.

"Balance," usne finally kaha. "Kaam ka balance, family ka balance, aur... kisi ke saath share karne ka balance. Aap?"

"Mujhe apna khud ka ghar chahiye," maine kaha, surprising myself with my honesty. "Not necessarily bada, par apna. Jahan main apni books rakh sakun, apni photos laga sakun, aur... aur kisi ke saath chai bana sakun."

"Chai?" usne pucha, smiling.

"Chai important hai," maine kaha, seriously. "Meri mummy kehti hain, jiski chai pasand aaye, uska dil bhi pasand aa jaata hai."

"Toh phir mujhe aapki mummy ki chai peeni hogi," usne kaha, aur phir jaise realize kiya ki yeh thoda zyada personal ho gaya, he added quickly, "I mean, Meerut ki famous chai, you know, wohi..."

Main hassi. "Sameer, aap bhi na."

"Kya?"

"Kitne polite ho. Har baat mein 'please,' 'sorry,' 'excuse me.' Delhi ke ladkon mein yeh quality rare hai."

"Delhi ke ladkon ko badnaam mat karo," usne kaha, mock-offence lete hue. "Hum mein bhi ache qualities hain. Jaise... patience."

"Patience?"

"Aap roz late aati hain, par main phir bhi intezaar karta hoon," usne kaha, deadpan expression ke saath.

"Main late nahi aati!" maine protest kiya. "Bas... time management mein thodi..."

"Expressive aur punctual dono nahi ho sakti?" usne tease kiya.

"Sameer!" maine uska haath mara, playful thappad. Usne mera haath pakda—sirf ek second ke liye, par electricity thi us touch mein. Hum dono ne apne haath jaldi se hata liye, aur dono ke cheeks red ho gaye. Metro ki thandi hawa bhi humein thanda nahi kar paayi.

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Part Four: Ghar, Parivaar, Aur Unsaid Words

January aa gaya. Humne numbers exchange kar liye the—professional reason ke liye, hum dono ne apne aap ko convince kiya. "Agar metro miss ho jaaye toh inform kar sake," yeh excuse tha. Par actually, raat ko do baje tak WhatsApp chalti thi.

Mummy ne notice kar liya tha. Meerut ki maaen, unki sixth sense kisi NASA satellite se zyada accurate hoti hai.

"Kaun hai yeh Sameer?" mummy ne ek raat pucha, jab main kitchen mein uske liye aloo ke parathe bana rahi thi—vo bhi late night craving mein, jo actually uske liye thi, next day metro mein dene ke liye.

"Friend hai, mummy. Metro mein mila hai."

"Metro mein dost nahi, bhoot milte hain Dilli mein," mummy ne kaha, her classic line.

"Mummy, vo web developer hai. Decent family se hai. Papa retired teacher hain, behen doctor ban rahi hai."

"Arre wah, poori family history pata hai?" mummy ne eyebrow raise ki. "Anjali, dekh lena. Meerut ki ladki ho, Dilli ke ladke..."

"Mummy, please. Bas friend hai."

"Friend jo tere chehre pe itni badi smile laata hai?" mummy ne pucha, par uski awaaz mein koi anger nahi tha—sirf concern, aur thoda sa curiosity.

Main chup ho gayi. Mummy ne mere kandhe pe haath rakha.

"Deewali ke baad umar ho jayegi teri. Soch rahi hoon koi achha rishta..."

"Mummy, please. Abhi nahi. Meri career bhi toh..."

"Career, career, career. Kab tak?"

"Jab tak sahi insaan na mil jaye," maine kaha, aur mummy ne meri aankhon mein dekha. Unhein samajh aa gaya. Unhone kuch nahi kaha, bas sar hilaake chali gayi. Par raat ko mere room ke darwaze ke neeche ek note aaya: "Kal se garam doodh peena. Sardi mein skin crack ho jati hai."

Mummy ka pyaar—indirect, practical, aur unconditional.

Sameer ne apne papa ke baare mein bataya tha. Mr. Bansal, retired Hindi teacher, strict but loving. Unhone Sameer ko shuru se literature mein interest dilaya tha.

"Papa kehte hain," Sameer ne bataya, "ki code bhi ek kavita jaisa hota hai. Structure hona chahiye, rhythm hona chahiye, aur meaning hona chahiye."

"Aur aapki mummy?" maine pucha.

"Vo... choti thi jab main paida hua," usne kaha, awaaz mein woh familiar sadness jo main pehchan gayi thi. "Papa ne dono roles play kiye. Riya aur mujhe."

"Riya aapki kitni choti hai?"

"Do saal. Abhi MBBS final year mein hai. Papa chahte hain vo America jaake specialist ban jaye."

"Aur aap?"

"Main chahta hoon vo apna decision khud le," usne kaha. "Par papa... unke apne sapne hain hum dono ke liye."

Main samajh sakti thi. Parents ke sapne, aur apni khwaahishein—yeh balance sabse mushkil hota hai.

---

Part Five: Jaise Hi Kuch Kehne Wale Thay...

February tha. Valentine's week aa raha tha, par hum dono ne uske baare mein baat nahi ki. Metro ki dophar meetings ab aur bhi precious lagti thi. Humne ek dusre ki favourite jagahon pe jaana shuru kiya—main use Meerut ki famous Sharma ji ki lassi dilaayi, usne mujhe Dilli ki Purani Dilli ki galiyan dikhayi.

"Sameer," ek din maine pucha, jab hum India Gate ke paas baith ke chai peete the, "kya aap kabhi... I mean, kya aapko kabhi lagta hai ki hum..."

"Ki hum kya?" usne pucha, genuinely confused.

"Ki hum... zyada se zyada time spend karna chahte hain?" maine vague sa jawab diya, frustrated apni khud ki awkwardness se.

"Anjali," usne kaha, aur usne apna chai ka cup neeche rakha. "Main roz metro mein do ghante extra travel karta hoon. Mera office Saket mein hai, main Huda City Centre tak jaata hoon, phir wapas aata hoon. Kyunki... kyunki aap wahan milti ho."

Main uski taraf dekhi. India Gate ki lights peeche roshan thi, aur uski aankhon mein wohi roshni thi.

"Sameer, aap..."

"Main aapko like karta hoon," usne kaha, simple, straightforward. "Bahut zyada. Aapki energy, aapki smile, aapki books ke baare mein baat karne ka tareeka... sab. Aur mujhe nahi pata ki aap..."

"Main bhi," maine kaha, quickly, jaise koi aur mujhse pehle bol dega. "Main bhi like karti hoon. Bahut zyada."

Hum dono hass diye. Awkward, relieved, happy. Usne mera haath pakda—properly is baar, fingers interlaced. Garam tha uska haath, ya meri thand lag rahi thi, pata nahi. Par achha laga.

"Toh ab?" usne pucha.

"Ab?" maine pucha.

"Ab hum officially...?"

"Sameer, main aapki girlfriend banungi," maine kaha, dramatic tareeke se, "par ek shart pe."

"Kya?"

"Kal se aap Rajiv Chowk tak hi aayenge. Extra travel band. Mujhe aapki health ki fikar hai."

"Par..."

"Sameer."

"Fine," usne kaha, mock-sulk karte hue. "Girlfriend ke first order."

"Girlfriend," maine kaha, testing the word. "Achha lag raha hai sunne mein."

"Boyfriend," usne kaha, testing back. "Haan, yeh bhi achha lag raha hai."

Hum dono ne chai ke cups cheers kiye. India Gate ki roshni ne humein blessing di. Aur maine socha—yeh toh shuruat hai. Bas shuruat.

---

Part Six: Rishton Ke Jod, Aur Naye Rishte

March aa gaya. Hum officially "couple" the, par Dilli mein couple hona aur family ko batana—do alag cheezein hain. Sameer ne apne papa ko bataya tha. Mr. Bansal ne kuch nahi kaha, bas ek din Sameer ne mujhe bataya ki unhone Godaan ki ek nayi copy mangaayi hai, "future bahu ke liye."

"Future bahu?" maine panic mein pucha.

"Relax," Sameer ne kaha, laughing. "Papa aise hi hain. Unhone Riya ke pehle boyfriend ke liye bhi Medical Digest mangaaya tha. Vo serious hain apni responsibilities mein."

"Par hum toh... I mean, abhi toh..."

"Anjali, main aapke saath future dekh raha hoon," usne kaha, serious ho kar. "Agar aap nahi dekh rahi, toh bata do."

Main chup rahi. Kyunki main bhi dekh rahi thi. Har raat, har metro ride, har phone call ke baad.

Mummy ko batana mushkil tha. Meerut ki society, padosiyon ki baatein, "ladki Dilli mein reh ke bigad gayi" wali narrative. Par ek din main ghar gayi, weekend pe, aur mummy se baat ki.

"Mummy, ek ladka hai."

"Sameer?" unhone pucha, without surprise.

"Aapko kaise pata?"

"Maa hoon, bhagwaan nahi," unhone kaha, stirring her tea. "Batao."

Maine bataya. Sab kuch. Metro, books, uski family, uska nature. Mummy ne poori baat suni, bina interrupt kiye.

"Teacher ka beta hai?" bas itna pucha unhone.

"Ji. Retired Hindi teacher."

"Hmm," unhone socha. "Hindi teacher... discipline hoga ghar mein."

"Mummy, vo bahut achha hai. Calm hai, respectful hai, aur..."

"Aur tujhe pasand hai," mummy ne complete kiya. "Yeh sab sunne ki zarurat nahi. Tere chehre se pata chal raha hai."

"Toh?"

"Toh kya? Main usse milna chahti hoon."

"Kab?"

"Jab vo yahan aaye. Meerut. Humare ghar."

"Mummy, Dilli mein rehta hai vo..."

"Toh Dilli mein rehne wale ladke Meerut nahi aa sakte?" mummy ne pucha. "Anjali, main ek baar dekhna chahti hoon. Uske ghar ka mahaul, uski upbringing. Phir decision."

"Mummy, aap 'no' bolengi toh?"

"Mummy 'yes' bhi bol sakti hoon," unhone kaha, rare smile ke saath. "Par pehle dekhun toh."

Main Sameer ko bataya. Vo nervous hua—pehli baar uska calm demeanor crack hua.

"Meerut? Akele? Tumhari mummy se milne?"

"Tumhari future saas se," maine tease kiya.

"Anjali, yeh serious hai. Maine kabhi... I mean, mummy toh hai nahi, papa se alag tareeke se baat hoti hai. Aur tumhari mummy..."

"Meri mummy sweet hain," maine kaha. "Bas thodi... protective."

"Protective maa se main darta hoon," usne kaha, genuinely worried.

"Sameer, tum kar sakte ho," maine kaha, uska haath pakad ke. "Main hoon na."

"Tum phone pe hogi," usne kaha. "Main akela..."

"Main aaungi Meerut," maine kaha. "Weekend pe. Tum aao, main milwaungi."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

---

Part Seven: Holi Ka Tyohaar, Aur Ek Surprise

Holi aa gayi. March ka end, aur Meerut mein tyohaaron ki tayyari zor shor se chal rahi thi. Mummy ne ghar ki safai shuru kar di thi—yehi woh time tha jab unhein sabse zyada help chahiye hoti thi, aur main Dilli mein hoti thi.

Main weekend pe ghar gayi. Ghar matlab—hamara purana makan, mohalla, gali, aur woh imli ka ped jo ab bhi tha. Mummy ne mujhe ghar ke kaamon mein lagaya—safai, rangoli, pakwaan.

"Sameer kab aa raha hai?" mummy ne pucha, bina bataye hue.

"Kaun?" maine innocent banne ki koshish ki.

"Vo jis ke liye tu roz phone pe hassi jaati hai."

"Mummy, vo... maine bataya tha na, vo Dilli se..."

"Kab aa raha hai?" mummy ne repeat kiya.

"Nahi aa raha," maine kaha, thodi disappointment ke saath. "Uske office mein kaam hai, Holi ke baad deadline hai. Maine kaha thi aane ko, par..."

"Mmm," mummy ne kaha, aur kuch nahi kaha.

Holi ke do din pehle, main subah uthi toh mummy kitchen mein kisi se baat kar rahi thi. Male voice. Pehle main samajh nahi paayi—papa toh the nahi, aur bhaiya toh America mein the.

Phir main bhagi kitchen ki taraf.

Sameer.

Wahan. Hamare kitchen mein. Mummy ke saath chai peete hue. Kurta pajame mein, baal thode bikhre hue, aur... gulaal ke cheente uske gaal pe.

"Sameer?!" maine chillaaya.

"Surprise?" usne kaha, weak smile ke saath, nervousness saaf dikh rahi thi.

"Tum... tum yahan kaise? Tumne kaha tha office mein kaam hai..."

"Chhutti li," usne kaha. "Aur... aur mujhe laga ki tumhari mummy se milna important hai. Toh... main aa gaya."

Mummy ne mujhe dekha. Phir Sameer ko dekha. Phir hassi—halki si, par hassi.

"Subah paanch baje ka train pakad ke aaya hai," mummy ne bataya, jaise yeh normal baat ho. "Keh raha tha ki Holi mein haath batane hain ghar ki safai mein."

"Mummy, main... mujhe nahi pata tha," maine kaha, abhi bhi shock mein.

"Pata hota toh surprise kaisa hota?" Sameer ne kaha.

Main rone lagi. Stupid, emotional, expressive Anjali. Sameer ne mere paas aake haath badhaya, phir mummy ko dekha, phir haath wapas le liya.

"Anjali, please mat ro," usne kaha. "Main jaan bujhke nahi aaya... I mean, jaan bujhke hi aaya, par..."

"Chup," mummy ne kaha. "Dono chup. Aur Sameer beta, tum chaye peelo thandi ho rahi hai."

---

Part Eight: Maa Ka Test, Aur Beta Ki Jeet

Woh din yaadgar tha. Sameer ne poori help ki—chhat ki safai, diyon ki sajaawat, purane bartan saaf karne, aur jab mummy ne kaha ki chhat pe jo purana furniture tha use bhi saaf karna hai, toh usne bina complaint kiye kar diya.

"Dilli ka ladka hai," mummy ne mujhe side mein kaha, jab Sameer chhat pe tha. "Kaam toh karta hai."

"Mummy, vo developer hai, mazdoor nahi," maine kaha, defensive ho ke.

"Kaam kaun kar raha hai abhi?" mummy ne pucha.

Main chup ho gayi.

Dophar ko, jab hum baith ke baat kar rahe the, mummy ne Sameer se pucha: "Beta, tumhari mummy hoti toh kya kehti?"

Sameer ne kuch der socha. "Kehti... ki main sahi jagah hoon. Unhein pata tha ki main kabhi na kabhi kisi ko itna pasand karunga ki unki khushi ke liye kuch bhi karunga."

Mummy ki aankhein bhar aayi. Meri bhi.

"Anjali ki papa bhi aise hi the," mummy ne kaha. "Chup rehte the, par pyaar bahut karte the."

Shaam ko, Sameer ke jaane ka time tha. Par mummy ne kaha: "Ruk jaao beta. Kal Holi hai, subah nikalna. Raat ko yahin raho."

"Mummy, guest room toh..."

"Guest room saaf hai," mummy ne kaha. "Maine subah hi kar diya tha."

Main mummy ki taraf dekhi. Unhone aankh maari. Rare, very rare.

Raat ko, jab Sameer so gaya, main mummy ke room mein gayi.

"Kaisa hai?" maine pucha.

"Seedha hai," mummy ne kaha. "Aur tumhe sach mein chahta hai. Subah paanch baje ka train, Anjali. Koi aise hi nahi pakadta."

"Mummy, toh?"

"Mujhe aur time chahiye," unhone kaha. "Par abhi ke liye... haan hai."

Maine mummy ko hug kiya. Tight wala, bachpan wala.

"Par ek shart hai," mummy ne kaha.

"Kya?"

"Kal Holi pe, usse gulaal lagana. Aur dekhna ki vo gussa karta hai ya hass deta hai."

"Mummy, yeh kaisi shart hai?"

"Tumhari nani ne yehi test liya tha tumhare papa ka," mummy ne kaha, smiling. "Papa ne gussa kiya tha, phir hass diya tha. Main samajh gayi thi—gussa uska ego tha, hassi uska pyaar."

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Part Nine: Holi Ke Rang, Aur Pyaar Ka Izhaar

Holi ka din. Meerut ki galiyan, rang, paani, aur woh specific energy jo sirf is tyohaar mein hoti hai. Sameer ne kurta pehna tha—safed, jo abhi tak safed tha, par zyada der tak nahi.

Main usse chhat pe mili. Mummy neeche the, padosiyon se baat kar rahi thi.

"Kal raat kaisi rahi?" maine pucha.

"Best sleep in months," usne kaha. "Tumhari mummy ne blanket diya tha, vo bhi garam."

"Sameer, thank you. Yahan aane ke liye. Mummy ke liye."

"Anjali, main tumhari mummy ke liye nahi aaya," usne kaha, serious ho ke. "Main tumhare liye aaya. Kyunki tum important ho. Aur tumhari family important hai."

Main uski taraf badhi. Haath mein gulaal tha—pink color, mera favourite.

"Sameer," maine kaha, "aankhein band karo."

"Kyun?"

"Please."

Usne aankhein band ki. Maine uske chehre pe gulaal lagaya—poora, proper, mummy ke test ke hisaab se.

Usne aankhein kholi. Uske chehre pe gulaal tha, uske baal bhi pink ho gaye the. Main tense ho gayi—kya vo gussa karega? Kya yeh test fail ho jayega?

Usne dekha mujhe. Phir apne haathon pe gulaal dekha. Phir mujhe wapas dekha.

Aur phir... vo hass pada. Not just smile—proper, heartfelt, eye-crinkling laughter.

"Yeh tha?" usne pucha, hasste hue. "Yeh tumhari mummy ka test tha?"

"Tumhe kaise pata?"

"Anjali, main subah se jaan raha hoon ki kuch toh plan hai," usne kaha, still laughing. "Aur honestly, main gussa kyun hota? Tumhari favourite color hai pink. Ab mera bhi favourite ban gaya."

Main hassi. Phir rone lagi. Phir hassi. Expressive Anjali, remember?

"Sameer, I..."

"I love you," usne kaha, suddenly serious. "I love you, Anjali. Main pehle din se jaanta tha, jab tumhari Godaan ki copy dekh ke tumhari aankhein badi-badi hui thi. I love your energy, your chaos, your mummy ki taanein sunke bhi smile karna... everything."

"I love you too," maine kaha, finally, officially. "Bahut zyada."

Hum dono ne ek doosre ko hug kiya. Pehli baar properly, fully. Uske haath mere baalon mein the, mere haath uski peeth pe. Gulaal hum dono ke kapdon pe laga, par koi fark nahi pada.

Neeche se mummy ki awaaz aayi: "Anjali! Sameer! Nashta taiyaar hai!"

Hum alag hue, par haath pakde rahe.

"Ab?" usne pucha.

"Ab nashta," maine kaha, smiling. "Phir... dekhte hain."

"Future?"

"Future," maine confirm kiya. "Saath mein."

---

Part Ten: Metro Wapasi, Aur Nayi Manzil

Holi ke baad, Sameer Dilli wapas gaya. Par kuch badal gaya tha. Officially "hum" ban gaye the—couple, partners, significant others, jo bhi naam do. Mummy unki approval de chuki thi, though unhone kaha tha ki formal baat abhi baaki hai "jab time aayega."

Metro ki rides ab aur bhi special thi. Ab hum sirf book discussions nahi karte the—hum apne future ki planning karte. Sameer ne bataya ki usne apne papa se baat ki thi.

"Papa ne kaha ki jab tum taiyaar ho, toh unse milo," usne bataya. "Vo bhi tumhe dekhna chahte hain."

"Main taiyaar hoon," maine kaha.

"Pakka?"

"Pakka. Tumhari family important hai, Sameer. Jaise meri important hai."

April aa gaya. Dilli ki garmi shuru ho gayi thi, par metro ki thandi hawa ab bhi comfortable thi. Ek din, jab hum Rajiv Chowk utarne waale the, Sameer ne kuch kaha jo main kabhi nahi bhoolungi.

"Anjali, maine socha hai... ki agar tum chaho, toh hum... I mean, main..."

"Sameer, kya?"

"Main Meerut shift ho sakta hoon," usne kaha, quickly, jaise confidence gather kar raha ho. "Remote work possible hai. Ya phir Noida mein office hai, wahan se commute kar sakta hoon. Tumhari mummy ke paas rehna, unki dekh-bhaal karna... agar tum chahti ho toh."

Main uski taraf dekhi. Yeh koi choti baat nahi thi. Dilli chhodna, apna setup, apne papa, apni behen—sab chhod ke Meerut aana, sirf mere liye, meri family ke liye.

"Sameer, tumhare papa? Riya?"

"Papa keh rahe hain ki unki retirement ki planning ho gayi hai. Chahte hain ki main khush rahun. Riya... vo toh America jaane ki planning mein hai. Vo khush hai mere liye."

"Par..."

"Anjali, main yeh tumhare liye nahi kar raha," usne kaha, interrupting my protest. "Main yeh humare liye kar raha hoon. Future ke liye. Jahan hum dono hain, wahi ghar hai."

Main rone lagi. Again. Usne mera haath pakda.

"Yeh yes hai ya no?" usne pucha, smiling.

"Yeh yes hai," maine kaha. "Bahut bada yes. All caps YES."

---

Part Eleven: Ek Naya Ghar, Ek Nayi Shuruwat

May mein, humne ek chhota sa flat liya Meerut mein—mere ghar se do gali door. Sameer shift ho gaya. Uske papa aaye, mere mummy se mile, aur dono families ne ek dusre ko accept kiya.

Mummy aur Mr. Bansal ki dosti alag level ki thi—dono teachers, dono literature lovers. Unhone milke decide kiya ki shaadi mein Premchand ki koi book gift hogi sabko.

"Sameer," ek shaam maine pucha, jab hum apne naye flat ki balcony mein baith the, "tumhe kabhi regret nahi hota? Dilli chhod ke?"

"Kabhi nahi," usne kaha, without hesitation. "Dilli mein metro thi, yahan tum ho. Easy choice."

"Cheesy," maine kaha.

"True," usne kaha.

"Sameer, main... main soch rahi thi," maine kaha, slowly. "Mere content creation ke baare mein. Main soch rahi thi ki... ki main apna channel shuru karun. Books ke upar. Hindi literature, reviews, discussions. Tum... tum support karoge?"

"Anjali," usne kaha, turning to face me, "main tumhe support karunga, chahe tumne yeh decision liya ho ya nahi. Par haan, yeh idea amazing hai. Tumhari energy, tumhari knowledge... logo ko pasand aayegi."

"Tum sach mein sochte ho?"

"I know," usne kaha, confidently. "Kyunki main toh already tumhara fan hoon."

Main hassi. Phir serious ho gayi.

"Sameer, main tumse kuch puchna chahti hoon."

"Kuch bhi."

"Nahi, I mean... formally."

Usne eyebrow raise ki. Main kneel ho gayi—yes, maine propose kiya. Unconventional, expressive Anjali style mein.

"Sameer Bansal," maine kaha, uska haath pakad ke, "kya tum mujhse shaadi karoge? Mere ghar mein, meri mummy ke saath, mere imli ke ped ke neeche, aur meri poori crazy life mein?"

Vo thoda shocked hua, phir hass pada, phir serious ho gaya.

"Anjali Sharma," usne kaha, mujhe utha ke, "main tumse shaadi karna chahta hoon. Tumhari mummy ke saath, tumhare imli ke ped ke neeche, aur tumhari crazy life mein. Haan. Haan. Hundred times haan."

Humne hug kiya. Phir... pehli baar, humne kiss kiya. Soft, sweet, aur perfect. Balcony pe, Meerut ki shaam mein, aur humare naye ghar mein.

---

Epilogue: Yellow Line Se, Lifeline Tak

Aaj, jab main yeh likh rahi hoon, humari shaadi ko ek saal ho gaya hai. Mere YouTube channel pe ek million subscribers hain—Hindi Book Reviews with Anjali. Sameer ne apna startup shuru kiya hai, web development ka, aur vo ghar se kaam karta hai.

Mummy ab hamare saath rehti hain—unhone kaha ki "beta tum dono ko dekhna hai." Mr. Bansal bhi aksar aate hain, aur unhone mere channel ke liye "literary consultant" ka role apna liya hai.

Riya America mein hai, residency kar rahi hai, par har Holi pe vo aati hai. Usne bataya tha ki Sameer ne usse kaha tha ki vo mujhse pehli baar metro mein mila tha, aur Riya ne kaha tha: "Bhaiya, finally, tumhari life mein bhi koi chaos aa gaya."

Kal hum Dilli gaye the. Yellow Line pe. Sameer ne kaha ki ek baar phir se wohi journey karte hain—Kashmere Gate se Rajiv Chowk.

Metro thi, crowded thi, par humne ek kona dhoondh liya. Maine Godaan nikali—meri purani copy, abhi bhi mere paas. Sameer ne usmein se ek page khola, aur wahan, usne likha tha: "To Anjali, who made my commute the best part of my day. Love, Sameer."

Maine uski taraf dekha. Vo smile kar raha tha—vo hi calm, polite, perfect smile.

"Metro announcements miss karte ho?" maine pucha.

"Nahi," usne kaha. "Ab tumhari awaaz sunni hai bas."

"Cheesy."

"True."

Metro ne announcement di: "Rajiv Chowk, next station."

Hum utre. Haath pakde hue. Aur jaise hi hum platform pe khade hue, maine socha—yeh toh sirf shuruat thi. Hamari asli journey abhi shuru hui hai.

Yellow Line se, Lifeline tak.

~ Khatam ~

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