Usne scrap bin se suitable washer chuna, burr hataaya, alignment check ki aur bolt torque karwaya. Machine dobara chali to awaaz seedhi ho gayi.
Operator ne angutha dikhaya. Mishra ji ne bhi part dekha, phir Chirag ko. “Kabhi-kabhi tumhari aankh kaam kar jaati hai.”
Chirag ne chest phulayi. “Kabir ne kaha hai, boond mein samundar—”
“Kabir ne bracket ke baare mein kuch nahi kaha. Apna guide complete karo.”
Owner Agarwal sahib office se nikle. Phone ka speaker abhi bhi on tha aur doosri taraf koi supplier payment ke liye unchi awaaz mein bol raha tha. Agarwal sahib ne call kaat kar Chirag ko bulaya.
“Chiku, yeh sample aur drawing lo. Lucknow Latouche Road side teen suppliers se quote chahiye. Bearing-guide assembly. Monday subah tak.”
“Sir, phone pe mangwa lete?”
“Phone pe sab bolte hain first-class. Piece haath mein dekhna. Rate, delivery, material—teenon likhwa ke laana.”
Chirag ne sample dabbe mein rakha. “Ho jayega.”
“Aur suno. Sample kho gaya to tumhari ek mahine ki philosophy bech kar bhi naya nahi aayega.”
Agarwal sahib wapas office gaye. Unke jaate hi Mishra ji ne dheere se kaha, “Payment ka scene theek nahi lag raha. Kal steel wala maal rok gaya.”
“Order aa jayega to khul jayega,” Chirag bola.
“Haan. Tumhare WhatsApp status jaisa optimism factory chalata to bank ki zaroorat na hoti.”
Chirag ne baat hansi mein uda di, lekin office ke closed glass ke peeche Agarwal sahib ko dono haath se maatha pakde dekha. Usne sample ka dabba apne tool bag ki inner pocket mein aur andar kar diya.
Lunch break mein Sameer ka voice note aaya.
“Chiku, zindagi khatam. Izzat nil. Written warning mil gaya. Agar hum sanyas lein to fluorescent kapde allowed hote hain kya?”
Chirag ne reply record kiya. “Zindagi mein haar jeet man ka bhram hai, Sam. Jaise kisi mahaan aadmi ne kaha—”
Sameer ka turant message aaya: “Mahaanta chhodo. Daaru?”
“Nahi. Lucknow.”
“Kaahe?”
“Company ka kaam hai. Bearing quote. Kal chaloge? Biryani bhi.”
Teen dots screen par naache, phir Sameer ka jawab aaya: “Bhai, tum dost nahi, government relief package ho.”
***
Shaam ko Pandit Ramswaroop ke courtyard mein chai ki pehli ketli chadhi to baithak apne aap lag gayi.
Pandit Ramswaroop asal mein Chirag ke door ke mama the, lekin poora mohalla unhe Panditji kehta tha. Retired mill worker the. Unka maanna tha ki Bharat ki adhiktar samasya do cup chai aur sahi chair arrangement se sulajh sakti hai. Jo nahi suljhe, us par teesra cup aur committee banani chahiye.
Sameer plastic ki kursi par dha gaya. Rinku mechanic apne haath kapde se pochhta hua aaya. Chirag sample wala tool bag pair ke paas rakhkar baitha.
Panditji ne bijli ke purane bill ka khaali pichhla hissa nikala. “Meeting ka vishay?”
“Sameer ko office mein daant padi,” Chirag bola.
“Objection,” Sameer bola. “Daant nahi. Corporate conspiracy.”
Panditji ne likha: Vishay ek—Sameer ki corporate conspiracy.
Rinku ne chai uthayi. “Hamare hisaab se action lena chahiye. Boss ke cabin mein slow motion entry, peeche se dialogue—”
“Tumhare har solution mein background music kaahe hota hai?” Sameer bola.
“Kyunki bina music zindagi documentary lagti hai.”
Gate khula aur Pushpa Gupta andar aayiं. Unke haath mein mithai ka dabba nahi, ek laminated photograph thi. Chirag ne dekhte hi tool bag apni kursi ke aur kareeb kheench liya, jaise photo sample chura sakti ho.
“Lo, sab nithalle yahin,” Pushpa boliं. “Chiku, yeh ladki dekho. Bank mein clerk hai. Badi mausi ke padosi ke devar ki saali ne rishta bataya.”
Sameer seedha baith gaya. “Chain of custody strong hai, Aunty.”
“Tum chup raho. Tumhari shirt dekh ke ladki wale bhaag jayenge.”
Chirag ne photo ek aankh se dekhi. “Amma, insaan photo se thodi samjha jaata. Aatma—”
“Aatma gol roti banati hai?”
“Roti ka gol hona patriarchal geometry hai,” Chirag bola.
Panditji ne bill par likha: Vishay do—patriarchal geometry. Phir bole, “Pushpa, ladke ko pehle ek din zimmedari se jeene do. Company ka sample Lucknow le ja raha hai.”
Pushpa ne turant Chirag ke tool bag ko dekha. “Kahin rakh ke bhool mat jaana.”
“Amma, hum junior technician hain. Bachcha nahi.”
“Pichhle hafte mobile fridge mein mila tha.”
“Garmi bahut thi.”
Sameer hansa to chai naak mein chali gayi.
Rinku ne table par ungli thapthapayi. “Lucknow ja rahe ho to Residency ke paas mela laga hai. Poster dekha. Awadh Sangam kuch. Kebab, chaat, culture.”
Sameer ne phone nikala. Search kiya. Rang-biranga poster screen par khul gaya: AWADH SANGAM HERITAGE & FOOD MELA. Municipal exhibition ground near Residency. Approved heritage-walk slots separate. Awadhi food, crafts, guest flavours from Kanpur.
“Dekho,” Sameer ne zoom kiya, “Kanpur guest-food row. Apne log diplomatic mission par hain.”
Chirag ne poster mein Residency ki photo dekhi. “Heritage walk bhi. Hum jayenge. Knowledge badhegi.”
Rinku bola, “Pehle supplier. Phir biryani. Phir heritage. Order of mission.”
“Tum aa rahe?”
“Garage hai. Hum advice denge.”
Panditji ne chair par peeche hote hue judgement diya. “Kal subah niklo. Pehle company ka kaam. Har kharcha likho. Sample badan se alag mat karna. Aur Sameer, warning ka jawab sach-sach banana.”
Sameer ne muh banaya. “Sach mein presentation kam hota hai, Panditji.”
“Presentation se parcel sahi route pe nahi pahunchta.”
Sameer ne Chirag ko ghoora. “Tumne broadcast kar diya?”
“Committee mein transparency zaroori hai.”
Pushpa ne photograph Chirag ki pocket mein thons di. “Lucknow jao, lekin koi lafda nahi. Phone uthana. Aur kisi anjaan ladki ko philosophy mat sunana.”
Chirag ne haath dil par rakha. “Kasam se, Amma. Hum kaam se jayenge, kaam se lautenge. Trouble humse door bhaagta hai.”
Rinku ne dheere se Sameer se kaha, “Action film mein isi dialogue ke baad blast hota hai.”
***
Agli subah Kanpur Ghanta Ghar ke aas-paas sheher poori awaaz mein jaag raha tha.
Buson ke engines garaj rahe the. E-rickshaw wale jagah ke naam ko offer ki tarah uchhal rahe the. Chai ki bhaap, diesel ka dhuan, bheed ke kandhe, plastic ropes se bandhe suitcase—har cheez ek doosre ke bahut nazdeek thi. Upar clock tower waqt bata raha tha; neeche kisi ko yakeen nahi tha ki us waqt par gaadi chalegi.
Chirag ne plain blue shirt, jeans aur apna tool bag pehna—bag ko pehna hi kaha ja sakta tha, kyunki strap usne cross-body karke buckle par cable tie laga di thi. Sameer peela chashma aur gulabi-neon shirt mein aaya, ek chhota duffel lekar.
“Ek raat ke liye itna samaan?” Chirag ne poocha.
“Options. Aadmi ka mood badalta hai.”
“Charger?”
Sameer ruk gaya. “Tumhare paas hai?”
“Humara pin alag.”
“Koi baat nahi. Personality full charged hai.”
Chirag ke phone par Pushpa ka video call aa gaya. “Bag dikhao.”
“Amma, bheed mein hain.”
“Sample dikhao.”
“Cable tie laga rakhe.”
“Face to dikha sakte?”
Chirag camera apne chehre par laya. Pushpa ne screen ke paar se aankhen sikodiं. “Seedhe kaam pe jaana.”
“Haan.”
“Sameer ke kehne mein mat aana.”
Sameer frame mein ghusa. “Aunty, hum to maturity ki moorat hain.”
Pushpa ne call kaat di.
Bus aayi to bheed ek saath hilli. Dono ne seats pakdiं. Chirag ne bag lap par rakha; Sameer ne khidki ke paas baithte hi selfie li aur caption dala: Corporate trauma recovery tour.
Bus chalne ke baad Dubey sir ka voice note aaya. Sameer ne earphone na hone ke karan volume kam karke suna.