“Ji, bilkul. Aap do minute baithiye.”
Mehak Dixit ne phone ko kandhe aur kaan ke beech sambhala, saamne khade buzurg patient ki receipt dobara print karne ki koshish ki aur baayen haath se ek fasting patient ko paani na peene wali instruction sheet dikhayi. Aastha Diagnostics ka Saturday reception desk koi desk nahi tha; woh ek chhota sa desh tha jahan har nagrik ko apna kaam sabse pehle chahiye tha.
Printer ne kagaz aadha bahar nikala, phir usse wapas chaba liya.
Mehak ne muskurahat nahi chhodi. “Ji, report shaam chaar baje authorise hone ki sambhavna hai. Nahi, main values explain nahi kar sakti. Doctor se consult karna hoga. Ji, main samajh rahi hoon.”
Saamne buzurg bole, “Beta, receipt?”
“Bas aa rahi hai, Uncle. Machine thoda adab seekh rahi hai.”
Peeche se ek aadmi ne kaha, “Hum pandrah minute se khade hain.”
Mehak ne phone mute kiya. “Sir, aapki registration complete hai. Sample counter par token C-satrah announce hoga. Aap baith jaiye, main bulwa dungi.”
“Lekin report urgent hai.”
“Isliye Dr. Vats ne priority note kar diya hai. Test ko jaldi karna aur test ko sahi karna dono zaroori hain.”
Uski awaaz naram thi, lekin sentence ke neeche lakir kheench di gayi thi. Aadmi kuch budbudata hua baith gaya.
Phone par caller ab bhi “Hello? Hello?” kar raha tha. Mehak ne unmute kiya. “Ji, main yahin hoon. Home collection ke liye address WhatsApp kar dijiye.”
Printer ne karahne jaisi awaaz ki.
Dr. Vats lab ke andar se nikle. Coat ki pocket mein do pens, forehead par chaar permanent lines. “Mehak, Sharma ji ki lipid profile release kyun nahi hui?”
“Sir, aapke authorisation queue mein hai.”
“Mere queue mein? Computer dikha hi nahi raha.”
“Aap filters mein kal ki date lagaye hain.”
“Maine nahi lagayi.”
“System ne apne aap adab se laga di hogi, sir.”
Dr. Vats ne sarcasm nahi pakda. Woh terminal ki taraf chale gaye. Mehak ne printer tray kholi. Receipt accordion ban chuki thi.
Door khula aur Sana Saxena do paper cups lekar andar aayi. Usne pale blue kurta pehna tha, baal jaldi mein clip kiye hue aur expression aisa tha jaise duniya ne subah se teen galat formulas enter kar diye hon.
“Madam receptionist,” Sana boli, “aapke liye chai. Extra meethi. Kyunki life ne namak apni taraf se de rakha hai.”
Mehak ne phone rakhte hi cup liya. “Tum yahaan? Noor wale azaad kar diye?”
“Azaad nahi. Temporary parole. Ek buyer ne same design ko spreadsheet mein ivory, mail mein cream aur phone par off-white bola. Maine kaha teenon mein se ek rang chun lijiye, hum kapde ko identity crisis nahi denge.”
Mehak hansi, phir printer ka paper kheenchne lagi. “Do minute.”
“Lucknow mein do minute ka matlab pata hai? Ya to aadha ghanta, ya kabhi nahi.” Sana counter ke side khadi ho gayi. “Mela chalna hai. Ticket book hai. Heritage walk ka slot teen bees.”
“Mera lunch bhi nahi hua.”
“Wahin khaogi. Veg Galouti tumhare naam ka prasad hai.”
“Prasad mat bolo. Koi aunty sun legi to festival band karwa degi.”
Dr. Vats wapas aaye. “Mil gaya. Date filter tha.”
Mehak ne seedha chehra rakha. “Achha hua, sir.”
“Aaj closing tak billing reconcile karke jaana.”
“Sir, meri half-day approval hai. Neha closing karegi; handover ready hai.”
Dr. Vats ne calendar dekha, jaise half-day unke khilaaf saazish ho. “Haan, theek. Phone reachable rakhna.”
Sana ne chai ke cup ke peeche se Mehak ko dekha. Bahar nikalte waqt woh dheere se boli, “Phone reachable rakhna ka matlab hai chhutti par bhi receptionist.”
“Unko lagta hai computer jaadu hai aur main jaadugar.”
“Tum jaadugar ho. Itne logon ko ‘ji’ bolkar ek ko bhi thappad nahi maara.”
***
Noor Chikan Exports ka stockroom Chowk ki ek purani building ke andar tha jahan seedhiyan sankri, bundle bade aur har landing par kisi na kisi ko jaldi thi. Sana Mehak ko half-day ke baad wahan sirf apna bag lene le gayi.
Computer room mein do desktops, ek old pedestal fan aur wall par buyer deadlines ka chart tha. Sana ki screen par rows rangon se bhari thi.
“Yeh dekho,” usne bag uthate hue kaha. “Design N-214. Ledger mein ek sau bees pieces. Physical count ek sau chaudah. Chhe hawa mein embroidery karwa rahe hain shayad.”
Mehak ne screen dekhi. Columns mein artisan batch, size, colour, received, wash, finish, pack aur dispatch likha tha.
“Mile?”
“Do wrong rack mein. Teen finishing wale bundle mein. Ek abhi bhi moksha par.”
Stockroom se manager ki awaaz aayi, “Sana ji, Monday tak buyer list clean chahiye.”
Sana ne utni hi meethi awaaz lagayi, “Ji, pehle aap physical slips clean bhejwa dijiye.”
Phir Mehak se boli, “Dekha ‘pehle aap’ ka industrial use?”
Mehak ne dupatta set kiya. “Tum Lucknow ki tehzeeb ko threat bana deti ho.”
“Tool hai. Use karna chahiye.”
Dono Chowk ki bheed mein nikliं. Galiyon mein chikankari ke kurtas latak rahe the, scooters logon ke beech se maafi maange bina nikal rahe the aur ek dukaan se itr ki khushboo, doosri se tel mein talti tikki ki. Chacha Zafar ka tea stall corner par tha. Unki safed daadhi chhoti, aankhen hamesha kisi private joke se roshan.
“Arre bitiyaan,” unhone ketli uthate hue kaha, “aaj chai dhokha de gayi kya? Doosre cup ke bina ja rahi ho?”
Sana ne mela ticket dikhaya. “Aaj heritage aur kebab ka programme hai, Chacha.”
“Hum bhi wahin service counter par hain. Cultural society ne chai ka contract diya hai. Lekin udhar debate ka paisa alag lagega.”
Mehak boli, “Aap pahunchiye. Sana ko koi sunne wala chahiye.”
Zafar hase. “Isko sunne wala nahi, minute-book chahiye.”
***
Residency ke visitor entrance par mela wali bheed ko volunteers do streams mein baant rahe the. Food mela ka main gate aage civic exhibition ground par tha; heritage-walk ticket wale log alag line mein, bags check karwa kar, guide ke saath protected complex mein ja rahe the. Ek board par saaf likha tha: NO FOOD INSIDE. NO AMPLIFIED MUSIC. RESPECT THE MONUMENT.
Mehak ne ticket phone par dikhaya. Sana ne apna water bottle bag mein band kiya. Guide, Farheen, ne group ko Bailey Guard Gate ke naam aur complex ke itihaas ka sankshipt parichay diya.
Andar aate hi bahar ka festival shor peeche patla ho gaya.
Lawns ki hariyali ke beech tooti deewarein khadi thiं. Kahin arches aasmaan ko frame karte, kahin brick par goli aur cannon ke purane nishaan. Museum ke paas schoolchildren ek line mein ja rahe the, unki teacher baar-baar “touch nahi karna” keh rahi thi.
Farheen ne Banquet Hall, Treasury aur Dr. Fayrer’s House ki taraf sanket kiya. Usne 1857 ki gherabandi, complex mein rahe logon aur baad ke sanrakshan ki baat ki. Mehak ne ek shattered wall ko dekha aur socha ki receptionist desk par log dates ko kitna bada samajhte hain—report ki date, marriage ki age, salary credit ka din. Yahaan poori zindagiyan ek plaque par do dates ke beech aa gayi thiं.
“Kya hua?” Sana ne dheere se poocha.
“Kuch nahi. Bas… jagah chup hai, phir bhi bahut kuch bolti hai.”
Sana ne deewar dekhi. “Isliye hum dono ko yahaan dheere bolna chahiye.”
“Tumse hoga?”
“Historic occasion hoga.”
Walk ke ant mein group outer approach ki taraf nikla. Door se mela stage ki tabla rehearsal aur announcements ki awaaz aa rahi thi. Mehak ke pet ne yaad dilaya ki breakfast ke baad usne sirf aadhi chai pi thi.
“Ab culture pet mein jayega,” usne kaha.
***
Udhar Chirag aur Sameer teesri supplier shop se nikal rahe the.
Chirag ke paas do written quotations aur teesre ka visiting card tha. Pehla shutter ab bhi band tha. Company ka kaam poora nahi, lekin itna hua tha ki woh apne aap ko responsible keh sake.
Sameer ne phone screen dikhayi. “Heritage slot miss.”
“Tumhare do plate biryani compare karne mein time gaya.”
“Research tha.”
“Ek plate khayi, doosri pack karwayi. Isme comparison?”
“Dinner mein conclusion aayega.”
Dono mela ground pahuche. Entrance par temporary fencing, first-aid sign, police help booth aur bins ki rows thiं. Awadhi stalls se ghee, grilled meat, spices aur fried chaat ki mixed khushboo aa rahi thi. Ek side craft demonstration, doosri taraf Kanpur guest-food row. Sameer ne apne city ka banner dekhkar salute kiya.
Inspector Bachchu Singh help booth ke paas volunteers ko outer lane clear rakhne ki instruction de rahe the. Woh Fazalganj side duty kar chuke the aur Chirag ko pehchante the—zyada isliye kyunki ek baar Rinku ki modified silencer complaint mein Chirag expert witness banne pahunch gaya tha.
“Ae Chiku,” Bachchu Singh ne bulaya. “Lucknow mein bhi mechanical evidence dene aaye ho?”
Chirag ne haath joda. “Nahi Inspector saab, cultural exchange.”
Sameer bola, “Hum goodwill delegation hain.”
Bachchu Singh ne uski shirt dekhi. “Goodwill kam, traffic signal zyada lag rahe ho.”
Radio crackle hua. “Sir, service lane mein saand phir dikh raha. Waste vehicle nahi aaya.”
Bachchu Singh ka expression turant serious hua. “Outer volunteers ko bolo logon ko fence ke andar rakhein. Animal-control kahan hai?”
“On the way.”
“Koi hero banne na jaye. Distance rakho.” Phir unhone dono ko dekha. “Tum log khaana khao aur seedhe raho.”
“Hum?” Chirag bola. “Hum to janam se seedhe.”
“Isliye keh raha hoon.”
Sameer Kanpur stall ki taraf gaya. Chirag sample bag ko chest se lagaye peeche. Thandai wale ne sealed paper cup diya. Sameer ne do liye aur ek Chirag ke haath mein thama diya.
“Bhang to nahi?” Chirag ne poocha.
Vendor ne bura maan kar kaha, “Family mela hai, bhaiya. Badam, saunf, pepper. Seedhi thandai.”
“Isko seedha kuch hazam nahi,” Sameer bola.
***
Mehak ne veg galouti stall par order diya. Vendor ne roomali roti ke chhote tukdon par do naram kebab rakhe, onion aur chutney side mein. Plate garam thi. Aroma aisa ki usne pehla bite khane se pehle aankhen band kar liं.
Sana ne tease kiya, “Shaadi mein tum dulhe ko itne pyaar se nahi dekhogi.”
“Dulha pehle itna tender ho.”
“Standards clear hain.”
Announcement hua ki outer approach par thodi der movement slow rakhein. Log phir bhi gate aur food row ke beech photo le rahe the. Ek volunteer ne haath se crowd ko inner side karna shuru kiya.
Chacha Zafar ka tea counter saamne dikh gaya. Sana ne haath hilaya. “Chacha!”
Zafar ne ketli ke upar se unhe dekha. “Aao, pehle kha lo. Chai baad mein.”
Usi pal service lane ki taraf se logon ka ek chhota jhund achanak side hua.
Saand bahut tez nahi bhaag raha tha. Woh pareshan tha, naak ke paas plastic ka tukda, aas-paas ki awaazon se bhadka hua. Volunteer logon ko barrier ke peeche bhej rahe the. Bachchu Singh do constables ke saath lane clear karane lage.
“Peeche! Fence ke andar!”
Sameer ne awaaz sunte hi Chirag ka sleeve pakda. Chirag ne mudkar dekha. Saand unki line mein nahi tha, lekin do log ghabra kar uski taraf bhaage. Chirag unse bachne ke liye peeche hata. Ek haath mein thandai, doosre se tool bag pakda.
“Chiku, right!” Sameer chillaya.
Kanpuriya ‘right’ aur actual right ke beech jitna samay laga, utne mein Chirag seedha Mehak se takra gaya.
Plate hawa mein uthi.
Ek veg galouti kebab ne chhota sa suraj grahan kiya. Roomali roti Sameer ke kandhe par ja baithi. Thandai ka dhakkan pop hua aur creamy liquid Chirag ki blue shirt se hota hua Mehak ke dupatte ke kinaare par chhidak gaya.
Mehak do kadam ladkhadayi. Uska phone haath se chhuta, stone edging par laga aur neeche gira.
Do second ke liye sab slow tha.
Phir Chirag bola, “Abe, dikhta nahi—”
Woh ruk gaya, kyunki jisse keh raha tha woh Mehak thi, aur Mehak ki aankhon mein Lucknow ki poori tameez hathiyaar lekar khadi thi.
“Aap humse pooch rahe hain ki dikhta nahi?” usne bahut narmi se kaha. “Aap peeche chal rahe the, janaab.”
“Hum peeche nahi, side—saand—log—”
“Aur plate ne aap par hamla kar diya?”
Sameer ne kandhe se roti uthayi. “Madam, emergency thi. Aapko situation samajhna chahiye.”
Sana turant beech mein aayi. “Situation samajh aa rahi hai. Aapke dost ke pair mein reverse gear factory-fitted hai.”
“Dekhiye, personal na ho,” Sameer bola.
“Aapki shirt personal hone ka mauka hi nahi de rahi. Public announcement hai.”
Aas-paas ke log rukkar dekhne lage. Kisi teenager ne phone utha liya. Bachchu Singh ki awaaz phati, “Video band. Side clear rakho!”
Animal-control staff saand ko quiet lane ki taraf guide kar rahe the. Immediate danger beet raha tha, lekin chaaron ka verbal traffic jam shuru ho chuka tha.
Chirag ne Mehak ka phone uthaya. Screen ke kone se crack phail gaya tha.
Uska gussa ekdum neeche baith gaya. “Yeh… humse hua?”
Mehak ne phone liya. Screen jal rahi thi, touch bhi kaam kar raha tha, par crack saaf tha. “Nahi, zameen ne shauk se kar liya.”
“Kitna kharcha hoga, hum de denge.”
“Pehle aap apni zubaan ka repair karwaiye.”
“Humne poora bola bhi nahi.”
“Shukr hai. Trailer hi kaafi tha.”
Sameer ne Sana se kaha, “Aap apni friend ko boliye amount bataye. Chiku bhaagega nahi.”
“Abhi to saand dekhkar isi ka demonstration diya hai.”
Chirag ne Sameer ko haath se chup karaya. “Dekhiye… madam… galti ho gayi. Matlab haadsa. Par phone hum theek karwayenge. Plate bhi.”
“Kebab emotional damage ka kya?” Mehak ne poocha.
Chirag ne pehli baar uske tone ke neeche chhupi comedy pakdi. “Uska replacement turant.”
Bachchu Singh aa gaye. “Chiku, tumko bola tha seedhe rehna.”
“Inspector saab, hum seedhe hi peeche gaye the.”
“Peeche seedha jaoge to kisi par hi chadhoge.” Unhone vendor ko bulaya. “Plate ka paisa do. Phir crowd mat jama karo.”
Chirag ne wallet nikala. Vendor ne amount bataya. Chirag ne UPI scan kiya. Network ne processing dikhaya.
Sameer bola, “Lucknow mein payment bhi pehle aap kar raha.”
Sana ki hansi nikalte-nikalte ruki.
Chacha Zafar counter se aa gaye. “Arre Sana bitiya, sab khairiyat?”
“Phone shaheed hua hai, Chacha.”
Zafar ne Chirag aur Sameer ko dekha. “Yeh kaun aandhi hain?”
Bachchu Singh bole, “Kanpur se cultural exchange.”
“Hum Chirag,” Chirag ne kaha. “Yeh Sameer. Galti se—”
“Galti se hi aadmi aksar parichay deta hai,” Zafar bole. “Bitiya, phone chal raha?”
Mehak ne check kiya. “Chal raha hai.”
“To pehle sab fence ke andar chalo. Raasta khula rakho. Baaki hisaab chai ke paas.”
Zafar ki baat mein aisa wazan tha ki chaaron chal diye.
Tea counter ke side khade hokar Chirag ne apna number kagaz par likha. Mehak ne dekha. “Phone toot gaya hai, memory nahi. Main number kyun loon?”
“Repair estimate bhej dena.”
“Cash nahi chahiye.”
“To shop par payment kar denge.”
“Aur agar screen kal apne aap theek ho gayi?”
“To hum mandir mein—matlab, science museum mein donation de denge.”
Sana ne kagaz Mehak ke haath se liya. “Accountability ke liye number rakho. Block karna free hai.”
Sameer bola, “Haan, aur hum koi lafange nahi. Supervisor hain.”
“Kis cheez ke?”
“E-commerce hub.”
“To reverse routing professional habit hai?”
Sameer ne jawab ke liye muh khola, phir subah ka mis-sort yaad aaya aur bandh kar लिया. Sana ne us chhoti si khamoshi ko notice kiya.
Chirag ne tool bag check kiya. Inner pocket ka zip khula tha. Uska rang ud gaya.
“Sample?” woh jhuk gaya. Barrier ke paas, gira hua thandai cup se do foot door, chhota plastic dabba pada tha. Woh crowd ke bahar nikalne laga.
Bachchu Singh ne rok diya. “Ruko. Lane clear hone do.”
“Company ka part hai, saab.”
“Company tumhari jaan ka insurance degi?”
Animal-control vehicle ne saand ko safe distance par contain kar liya. Constable ne dabba utha kar Chirag ko diya. Chirag ne wahi kholkar sample check kiya. Grease-paper thoda geela, metal part safe.
Mehak dekh rahi thi. Ab usse samajh aaya ki takraate waqt Chirag ne bag ko kyun chest se bachaya aur balance kyun gaya. Bewakoofi thi, lekin poori beparwahi nahi.
Vendor replacement plate le aaya. Chirag ne Mehak ko di. “Peace offering.”
“Is baar aap do metre door rahiye.”
“Teen rahenge.”
Sameer ne roti ka daag dekha. “Aur humko koi replacement shoulder?”
Sana boli, “Shirt replace kar lijiye. Samaaj dua dega.”
Is baar chaaron mein se teen hase. Sameer ne do second baad khud bhi haar maan li.
***
Shaam ko Mehak Shanti Devi ke ghar ke upar wale rented portion mein pahunchi to landlady balcony se scooter-count kar rahi thiं.
“Aaj der ho gayi,” Shanti Devi boliं. “Mela mein bheed thi?”
“Ji, bahut.”
“Phone ko kya hua?”
Mehak ne crack chhupane ko screen palti. “Gir gaya.”
“Apne aap?”
“Nahi, gravity ke saath.”
Shanti Devi ne aankhen sikodiं. “Neeche koi scooter rukega to humko awaaz aa jaati hai.”
“Aaj koi nahi aa raha, Aunty.”
Room mein Sana video call par repair shops compare kar rahi thi. Ek authorised service centre ka estimate zyada, local reliable shop ka kam. Mehak ne Chirag ka kagaz table par rakha.
“Message kar,” Sana boli.
“Kal.”
“Crack kal tak vintage design nahi banega.”
Mehak ne number save kiya: Chirag Accident Kanpur. Estimate ka screenshot bheja. Do minute tak reply nahi aaya. Phir payment request nahi, seedha shop ke QR par successful transaction ka screenshot aaya; Chirag ne shop ko call karke amount confirm bhi kar diya tha.
Message tha: “Madam, damage ka hisaab barabar. Argument abhi pending.”
Mehak ne screen ko dekha. Uske hothon ke kone apne aap uthe.
Sana ne turant pakad liya. “Kya hua?”
“Kuch nahi.”
“Jhooth bolte waqt tumhara Lucknowi accent aur saaf ho jaata hai.”
Mehak ne phone ulta rakha. “Bas payment kar diya.”
“Kaun? Reverse gear?”
“Chirag.”
“Aur neon board?”
“Sameer.”
Sana ne naam dohraya, jaise spreadsheet mein doubtful entry ho. “Sameer. Hm.”
Mehak ne use dekha. “Tum kyun hm kar rahi?”
“Main kuch nahi kar rahi. Chai bana rahi.”
Udhar Kanpur lautne se pehle budget lodge ke room mein Sameer Chirag ke kandhe ke upar se chat padh raha tha.
“Argument pending? Wah, Chiku. Accident mein bhi follow-up lead generate.”
Chirag ne phone kheench liya. “Repair ka matter hai.”
“Haan. Dil ka display toot gaya. Touch working.”
“Tum apni incident report banao.”
Sameer ka smile halka sa gira. “Kal bana lenge.”
Chirag ne Mehak ka reply dekha: “Hisaab tab barabar hoga jab aap maanenge ki peeche dekhkar chalna chahiye.”
Usne type kiya: “Maan liya. Lekin aap bhi emergency mein kebab ko helmet pehnaiye.”
Reply aaya: “Good night, Mr Reverse Gear.”
Chirag ne phone chest par rakha aur ceiling fan ko dekha. Bahar Lucknow ka traffic kam ho raha tha. Tool sample safe tha, do quotes mile the, shirt par thandai ka bada daag tha aur ek anjaan ladki ne uska naam save kiya tha—kis naam se, yeh usse maloom nahi.
Usne socha Pushpa ko technically ab bhi kaha ja sakta hai ki koi lafda nahi hua.
Bas ek haadsa hua tha.
Aur haadse, kabhi-kabhi, route badal dete hain.
