Sheher ka naam koi yaad nahi rakhta tha.
Log use bas "apna sheher" kehte the—jahaan subah doodh waale ki cycle ki ghanti se hoti thi, aur shaam ko radio par bajte purane gaane din ko alvida kehte the.
Us subah bhi kuch alag nahi lag raha tha.
School ke bahar neem ke ped ke neeche cycle khadi karte hue Swati Sharma ne apni choti thik se baandhi. Safed ribbon thodi si dheeli thi, lekin woh use phir se kholne ki himmat nahi kar paayi. Der ho rahi thi, aur late hone ka darr uske liye kisi exam se kam nahi tha.
Usne school building ki taraf dekha—
peeli deewarein, lohe ki railings, aur notice board par chipke hue kagaz jinke kone hamesha hawa mein udte rehte the.
Yahi uski duniya thi.
Class, books, marks, aur mummy ke sawal—
"Aaj school kaisa raha?"
Swati ka jawaab hamesha ek hi hota:
"Achha."
Achha matlab—safe.
Achha matlab—koi dikkat nahi.
Woh bheed mein chalti hui ladkiyon ke saath andar gayi. Classroom mein wahi purani wooden benches, wahi chalk ki smell, wahi shor jo teacher ke aate hi achanak shaant ho jaata tha.
Swati apni seat par baithi aur bag se notebook nikaalne lagi, tabhi class teacher ki awaaz gungi:
"Class, aaj hamare saath ek naya student join kar raha hai."
Swati ne sirf aankhon se dekha, poora chehra uthakar nahi.
Naye students aate rehte the—
kuch din baat hoti, phir sab normal.
Par is baar, class ka shor kuch zyada hi tha.
"Please come in."
Aur tab woh andar aaya.
Darwaze ke paas khada ladka jaise poori class se alag lag raha tha. Uniform wahi thi—white shirt, grey pants—lekin use pehenne ka andaaz alag tha. Collar thoda sa loose, bag ek kandhe par latka hua, aur chehre par woh confidence jo bina kuch bole hi mehsoos ho jaata hai.
"Introduce yourself," teacher ne kaha.
Ladka halka sa muskuraaya.
"Virat Mittal."
Bas naam hi kaafi tha.
Class mein kuch ladkiyon ne ek-dusre ko dekha, kuch ladkon ne seeti bajaane ki koshish ki jo teacher ki aankhon se turant chup ho gayi.
Virat Mittal.
Swati ne tab apni nazar uthayi.
Sirf ek pal ke liye.
Aur phir turant neeche dekh liya.
Us ek pal mein hi usne dekh liya—
uski aankhon ki chamak,
uski muskaan ka confidence,
aur woh beparwah andaaz.
Yeh ladka alag hai,
uske mann ne chupchaap kaha.
Teacher ne Virat ko peeche wali bench par baithne ko kaha. Woh chalte hue jaise poori class ko dekh raha tha, jaise use farq hi na padta ho ki kaun kya soch raha hai.
Swati ne apni notebook aur zor se pakad li.
Us din usne sirf ek baat mehsoos ki—
uneasiness.
Lunch break mein, Swati apni dost Priya ke saath usual kone mein baithi thi. Tiffin kholte hue Priya ne aankh maar kar kaha,
"Dekha naya ladka?"
Swati ne jaanboojhkar anjaan bante hue kaha,
"Kaun?"
Priya hansi.
"Arey wahi—Virat. Poora school baat kar raha hai."
Swati ne chupchaap roti ka tukda toda.
Use nahi pata tha kyun, par uska naam sunte hi dil ne thoda sa zor se dhadakna shuru kar diya.
"Woh Mumbai se aaya hai," Priya bolti rahi.
"Uske papa ka bada business hai. Seniors bhi use respect de rahe hain."
Swati ne sirf "hmm" kaha.
Uski duniya mein yeh sab matter nahi karta tha.
Ya shayad karta tha—
lekin woh maanna nahi chahti thi.
Door se Virat apne doston ke saath khada tha. Haste hue, baatein karte hue, jaise yeh school uska hi ho. Uski hasi hawa mein ghul kar Swati ke kaan tak aa rahi thi.
Usne nazar hata li.
Apni jagah yaad rakh, Swati,
usne khud se kaha.
Woh din chala gaya, phir doosra, phir teesra.
Virat dheere-dheere school ka hissa ban gaya. Teachers usse yaad rakhne lage, students use follow karne lage. Woh basketball court par jeetta, debates mein jeetta, aur har jagah jaise chamakta rehta.
Aur Swati?
Woh wahi rahi—
class mein first aane wali,
ghar jaakar mummy ka kaam mein haath bataane wali,
aur raat ko diary mein bina naam likhe kuch lines likhne wali.
Lekin kuch badal chuka tha.
Ab jab bhi class mein shor hota,
jab bhi hasi goonjti,
Swati ka mann bina wajah Virat ko dhoondhne lagta.
Aur use yeh baat bilkul pasand nahi thi.
Ek din, class ke baad library mein ek incident hua.
Virat aur uske doston ne kisi baat par hans diya—shayad bina matlab, shayad aadat se.
Par teacher ne ghalat samajh liya.
"Who did this?"
Teacher ki nazar seedhi Virat par gayi.
Virat ne bina kuch soche,
"Swati."
Class ekdum shaant.
Swati ki saans ruk gaya.
"Me?"
Uski awaaz kaanp rahi thi.
Usne kuch nahi kiya tha.
Usne kabhi kisi ka mazaak nahi udaaya tha.
Uska naam lena bhi use darr lagta tha.
Teacher ne bina poori baat sune use daant diya.
Virat chup raha.
Us din Swati ne pehli baar use gusse se dekha.
School ke corridor mein, jab Virat akele khada tha, Swati seedhi uske paas gayi. Pair kaanp rahe the, par awaaz nahi.
"Tumne mera naam kyun liya?"
Virat thoda sa surprised tha.
Usne socha nahi tha ki yeh ladki saamne aa kar sawaal karegi.
"Chill," usne casual tone mein kaha.
"Itna serious kyun ho?"
Yeh sunte hi Naina ki aankhon mein aansu aa gaye—
lekin woh gire nahi.
"Tumhare liye shayad mazaak ho,"
usne dheere par pakke swar mein kaha,
"par mere liye nahi."
Woh pal Virat ke liye bhi alag tha.
Usne pehli baar notice kiya—
uski aankhon ki sachchai,
uski awaaz ka darr,
aur uska khud ke liye khade hona.
"Swati… I'm sorry,"
woh bina soche bol gaya.
Woh maafi simple thi, par sachchi.
Swati ne kuch nahi kaha.
Bas wapas mud gayi.
Par us din kuch tootne ke saath-saath,
kuch shuru bhi ho gaya.
Us raat Swati ne diary kholi.
Aaj usne naam likh diya.
Sirf ek line:
"Kuch log zindagi mein shor macha kar nahi,
khamoshi se aa kar badal dete hain."
Use nahi pata tha ki yeh sirf ek chapter nahi,
balki ek poori kahaani ka pehla panna tha.