Raat ka time tha, aur ek cramped apartment ke dining table ke around teen dost baithe the: Arjun, Vikram aur Imran. Room ke beech mein ek chhota sa cake rakha tha, us par ek akela birthday candle flicker kar raha tha, jaise khud bhi sure na ho ki uska kaam kya hai. Peeche sofa tha jahan ek balloon half-deflated hoke latak raha tha. Kitchen counter par paper plates, plastic forks aur ek gift bag pada tha. Wall par jo balloons chipkaye gaye the, woh baar-baar neeche sarak rahe the, jaise apartment ko party se personal dushmani ho.
Arjun ke face par full emotional confusion thi. Usne coat ka collar thoda sa seedha kiya, cake ko dekha aur phir dono doston ko. “Bhai… yeh surprise hai na?” usne dheere se poocha, jaise agar usne zyada loud bola toh surprise bhaag jaayega. Vikram ne ek dum serious face banaya aur bola, “Obviously surprise hai.” Imran ne haan mein sir hila diya, lekin uski nazar cake ke side mein chipke label par thi.
Label par likha tha: “Happy Birthday, Rakesh!”
Teenon ne ek saath woh label dekha. Ek second ke liye room mein sirf candle ki crackling aur ceiling fan ki halki si awaaz thi. Arjun ne aankhen narrow ki. “Rakesh kaun hai?”
Vikram ne turant bola, “Arre… nickname hoga.”
Imran ne gift bag uthaya. Us par ek aur tag tha: “For Rakesh — From V.” Usne tag ko ulta-pulta karke dekha. “V kaun? Vikram?”
Vikram ne defensive tone mein kaha, “Maine gift diya hai toh V toh main hi honga na.”
Arjun ne apni chair thodi peeche ki. “Wait. Toh cake Rakesh ka hai, gift Rakesh ke liye hai, aur party kiski hai?”
Imran ne candle ki flame ko dekhte hue bola, “Technically… birthday cake birthday wale ka hi hota hai.”
Arjun ne seedha ungli uthayi. “Exactly. Toh birthday wala main hoon.”
Vikram aur Imran ek doosre ko dekh ke chup ho gaye. Phir Vikram ne bahut carefully bola, “Arjun… tumhara birthday last month tha.”
Arjun ne instant protest kiya. “Nahi. Last month mera… behen ka tha.”
Imran ne eyebrow raise ki. “Tumhari behen ka birthday yahan kya kar raha hai?”
Arjun ne jawab dene se pehle cake ke box ke neeche se ek folded paper nikala. Uspar likha tha: “Please don’t forget to bring the candles. - I.”
Teenon ne ek saath Imran ko dekha.
Imran ne haath utha ke bola, “Maine candles laye the. That’s all.”
Vikram ne kitchen counter ki taraf point kiya. “Aur yeh?”
Counter par ek handwritten note pada tha: “Table set kar dena. Party 9 baje. - I.”
Arjun ne note uthaya, phir Imran ko dekha, phir apne aap ko. “I matlab Imran?”
Imran ne thoda sa proud hoke kaha, “Could be.”
Vikram ne turant bola, “Bhai, note pe ‘I’ ke niche ek doodle hai. Yeh toh candle jaisa lag raha hai.”
Arjun ne note ko aur kareeb se dekha. “Arre haan… yeh I nahi, maybe ‘1’ hai.”
Imran ne table par haath maara. “Toh birthday person ka naam One?”
Vikram ne hansi roki. “Maybe apartment number.”
Arjun ne cake ka box khola. Andar ek aur chhota card tha: “With love, your favorite roommates.”
Teenon ek saath freeze ho gaye.
Arjun ne dheere se bola, “Roommates?”
Imran ne side glance diya. “We are not roommates.”
Vikram ne almost offended hoke bola, “We are friends who occasionally sleep here.”
Arjun ne card ko palat ke dekha. Back side par likha tha: “Happy Birthday, Mr. Iqbal.”
Teeno ke expressions ekdum blank ho gaye.
Arjun ne poocha, “Mr. Iqbal kaun?”
Imran ne sar jhukaya. “Apartment owner?”
Vikram ne apni memory ko jhatka diya. “Haan… shayad.”
Arjun ne hairan hoke bola, “Shayad? Tum log is apartment mein rehte ho aur owner ka naam shayad?”
Imran ne matter ko lighten karne ki koshish ki. “Dekho, landlord ka naam yaad rakhna optional hai.”
Vikram ne turant kaha, “Nahi, rent dena mandatory hai.”
Phir teeno ne ek doosre ko dekha aur silence. Candle ab bhi jal rahi thi, aur balloon wall se aur neeche sarak gaya tha, jaise usse bhi embarrassment ho rahi ho.
Arjun ne cake ki icing par finger se likha hua dekha: “For Mr. Iqbal.”
Usne aankh band karke ek gehri saans li. “Toh humne kiski birthday celebrate karne ki planning ki?”
Imran ne slowly bola, “Mr. Iqbal ki.”
Vikram ne add kiya, “Aur Arjun ko laga apni.”
Arjun ne instantly bola, “Mujhe laga surprise mera hai kyunki tum log itne suspicious acting kar rahe the.”
Imran ne apne forehead pe haath mara. “Bhai, suspicious toh hum bhi isliye lag rahe the kyunki humein khud nahi pata tha kya ho raha hai.”
Tabhi door ke bahar se keys ki jhanjhanahat sunai di. Teenon seedhe ho gaye. Ek second ke liye unka chehra aisa tha jaise exam mein invigilator aa gaya ho. Door khula, lekin koi 4th character andar nahi aaya; sirf ek voice note speaker se play hua, jo unhi ke phone par accidentally auto-play ho gaya tha.
Recorded voice mein ek tired, amused male voice thi: “Guys, birthday kal tha. Aur waise bhi, tum teeno ne mera naam itni baar galat bola ki main surprise ho gaya.”
Teeno ne ek saath ek doosre ko dekha.
Arjun ne whisper kiya, “Kal tha?”
Vikram ne kaha, “Kal tha.”
Imran ne almost defeated tone mein bola, “Aur naam?”
Voice note phir chali: “Mr. Iqbal. Itna bhi mushkil nahi tha.”
Arjun ne cake ki candle ko dekha jo ab almost khatam ho chuki thi. “Toh birthday miss ho gaya.”
Vikram ne shrug kiya. “Technically, surprise abhi bhi hai.”
Imran ne cake knife uthaya. “Comedy bhi.”
Arjun ne ek piece cut kiya aur bola, “Toh plan kya hai?”
Vikram ne turant kaha, “Plan simple hai. Ab hum is wrong birthday cake ko rightfully khaayenge.”
Imran ne smile ki. “Aur kal ke liye ek apology note.”
Arjun ne piece uthate hue final line boli, “Aur next time, pehle naam yaad karenge, phir cake.”
Teenon ne cake khaya, balloons phir bhi neeche hi latakte rahe, aur room mein jo embarrassment thi, woh dheere-dheere pure comedy mein badal gayi. Birthday galat tha, guest of honor missing tha, aur apartment owner ka naam unke liye ek temporary victory ban gaya tha. Lekin cake sahi tha, dosti sahi thi, aur raat ka sabse bada joke yeh tha ki unhone ek aise aadmi ka birthday celebrate kar diya jiska naam unhe tab yaad aaya jab celebration khatam ho chuki thi.
---
---
---
---
---