“69 ka naam hi enough hai, bro,” doosre ne kaha. “College mein har cheez ka legend banana zaroori hai kya?”
Arjun ne bas itna kiya ki usne cup slowly table par rakha. Rumor waise hi phailta raha—koi keh raha tha wahan se missing student Kunal ka connection hai, koi keh raha tha old wing mein pehle bhi kuch hua tha. Canteen ki hawa mein sach aur bakwaas aise mix the jaise chai mein extra sugar.
Rohan ne apna phone uthaya. “Dr. Meera Kapoor ne seminar ka reminder bheja hai. Aaj shaam tak outline chahiye. Agar late hue toh woh seedha naam note karengi.”
“Woh waise bhi sabka naam note karti hain,” Kabir ne mutter kiya. “Professor aur surveillance camera mein bas attitude ka farq hai.”
Arjun ne notice board se nazar hataayi hi thi ki Kabir ne table ke neeche haath badhaya. Ek torn slip paper uske ungliyon ke neeche tha, jaise kisi ne jaldi mein gira diya ho. Kabir ne ek second ke liye uspar nazar daali—sirf kuch numbers, aur ek corridor ka reference, “2B–old passage.” Phir usne paper ko calmly fold karke pocket mein daal diya, jaise kuch hua hi na ho.
“Woh kya tha?” Rohan ne poocha.
Kabir ne kandha uchaala. “Kuch nahi. Bas trash.”
Arjun ne uski taraf dekha, phir notice board ki taraf..
Noon ki dhoop library ke stained glass se filter hoke andar aa rahi thi, aur archive section mein woh bhi thandi, purani hawa ko nahi hara pa rahi thi. Dust ki ek patli layer shelves, file boxes aur wooden table ke corners par jami hui thi, jaise kisi ne is jagah ko saalon se jaan-bujhkar bhoolne ki koshish ki ho.
Imran ne notice board se nikli chhoti si slip ko dobara dekha. “Archive opening request,” us par bas itna hi likha tha, neeche pencil se ek room number aur ek arrow. “Yeh normal notice board pe kaise aaya?” usne dheere se pucha.
Rohan apne glasses ko adjust karta hua idhar-udhar dekh raha tha. “Normal campus mein kuch bhi normal nahi hota,” usne almost whisper mein bola. “Aur jo cheez notice board pe itni casually chipki ho, usually wahi sabse zyada suspicious hoti hai.”
Dono side passage tak aaye. Wahan ek narrow door tha, jiske frame par purani paint ki parat utar rahi thi. Lock intact tha. Handle par koi nishaan nahi. Phir bhi darwaza thoda sa khula hua tha, bas itna ki ek aadmi sideways nikal sake. Imran ruk gaya.
“Yeh toh open nahi hona chahiye,” usne kaha.
Rohan ne aage badhkar dekha. “Exactly. Lock band hai, par latch properly fit nahi hua. Kisi ne bahut carefully khola hai.”
Andar archive room tha—files, bound registers, old admission records, aur ek metal cabinet jo half-open sa lag raha tha. Rohan seedha register table ki taraf gaya, pages ko dhyaan se palatne laga. Imran room ka perimeter scan kar raha tha. Floor par ek halki si scuff trail thi, jaise kisi ne shoes ko ghaseete bina, bahut sambhal ke ek direction mein move kiya ho.
“Yahan,” Rohan ne achanak kaha.
Imran paas aaya. Register mein ek page missing tha. Cut clean tha, torn nahi. Jaise kisi ne soch-samajhkar nikaala ho. “Kis entry ke beech se gayab hai?” Imran ne poocha.
Rohan ne dates par finger rakhkar padha. “Last week ke baad aur is week ke pehle. Matlab recent.”
Imran ki nazar door ke paas wale corner par gayi, jahan floor thoda sa dull tha, jaise wahan kisi ne kuch heavy drag kiya ho. Scuff trail wahan se seedha service stairs ki taraf ja rahi thi. Usne ek second ke liye kuch kaha nahi.
“Service stairs,” usne finally bola. “Koi back route use hua hai.”
Rohan ne page ke empty gap ko dekha. “Aur jo bhi yahan aaya, woh student nahi lagta. Student hota toh itna saaf kaam nahi karta.”
Unke piche se ek khankharahat si aayi. Dono palte. Ek librarian, grey sari aur tight bun ke saath, doorway par khadi thi. Uski aankhen register par gayi, phir scuff trail par, phir seedha un dono par.
“Yahan students ko after hours access nahi hota,” usne sakht awaaz mein kaha.
Imran ne seedha jawab diya, “Madam, noon hai. Aur door khula mila.”
Librarian ne expression ko freeze rakha, lekin uski nazar ek pal ke liye upper floor ki railing ki taraf chali gayi. Bas ek pal..
Afternoon ka light seminar block ke broken windows se andar ghus raha tha, par usmein warmth kam aur ek thandi si peeli-beemar chamak zyada thi. Arjun aur Kabir service stairs se upar chadhte hue ek pal ko ruk gaye, kyunki har step ke saath corridor ka silence aur gehra hota ja raha tha. Neeche canteen side se students ki awaazein aati thi, par yahan, old wing mein, sab kuch jaise kisi ne volume down kar diya ho.
“Yeh jagah roz itni dead lagti thi?” Arjun ne dheere se kaha, nazar seedhe aage.
Kabir ne ek sard hansi di. “Dead nahi. Suspicious.”
Room 69 ke paas wala corridor alag hi lag raha tha. Floor par nayi mopping ke halki se streaks the, corners mein abhi tak geeli si smell atki hui thi, aur dust ka woh purana layer jo usually yahan har cheez par chadh jaata tha, gayab tha. Jaise kisi ne bahut jaldi, bahut carefully, sab kuch clean kiya ho. Par itna bhi carefully nahi ki asli kaam samajh aaye.
Arjun ne apni aankhon ko narrow kiya. “Too clean.”
Kabir ne deewar ke paas jhuk kar ek faint scuff dekha, phir seedha hua. “Haan. Jaise kisi ne trace mitaane ki koshish ki, but clue ko samjha hi nahi.”
Un dono ne corridor ke end par ek faculty storage room dekha. Darwaze par purana sa metal plate tha, aur uske neeche rust ke daag. Tabhi andar se ek chhota sa metallic sound aaya—jaise keychain kisi shelf se takra gayi ho, ya koi drawer achanak band hua ho. Bas ek second ka sound. Phir complete silence.
Arjun aur Kabir ek dusre ko dekhte reh gaye.
“Sunaa?” Arjun ne poocha, voice almost whisper.
Kabir already handle ke paas tha. “Haan.”
Usne handle ko try kiya. Locked. Phir zyada force se ghumaaya. Kuch nahi.
Arjun ne ek step back liya, corridor ko scan karte hue. “Faculty storage room mein kaun hoga abhi?”
Kabir ka jaw tight tha. “Jo bhi hai, chahta nahi ki hum dekh lein.”
Woh abhi aur kuch bolte, usse pehle staircase ke niche se slow footsteps sunayi diye. Dono seedhe khade ho gaye. Ek security guard, late thirties ya forties ka, uniform crisp nahi tha par posture ajeeb tarah se composed tha. Jaise woh surprise nahi hua, sirf confirm karne aaya ho.
“Tum dono yahan kya kar rahe ho?” usne poocha, tone mein na gussa tha na curiosity. Bas ek thanda control.
Arjun ne polite smile lagayi, lekin usmein tension छुपी nahi. “Bas seminar block dekh rahe the, sir. Old wing kaafi—”
“Bas.” Guard ne haath uthaya. “Yahan se nikal jao. Digging into things that are already being handled.”
Kabir ki aankhen us par tik gayin. “Handled by whom?”