One More Round

Dim amber bulbs. Front glass ke paar cool blue streetlight. Three stools. Counter. Stacked glasses. Shutter half-down. Quiet, intimate.

MANISH (49), rolled sleeves, apron tied at waist, bar towel se counter saaf kar raha hai. Tired but kind eyes.

Aakash (22), clean haircut, college bag kandhe par, overconfident pose mein stool par baitha hai.

JATIN (51), checked shirt, easy smile, slightly lonely presence, beer glass ko dekh raha hai.

Bas ek round aur. Phir lock.

Papa, aap har baar bolte ho

“bas ek round aur.”

Aur har baar bar band bhi ho jaati hai.

Business model solid hai. Emotional blackmail bhi

aur revenue bhi.

Manish hansi chhupa leta hai. Aakash apni seat seedhi karta hai.

Main bas bol raha hoon, mujhe late nahi hona chahiye.

Late? College mein ya life mein?

Wow. Good one.

Jatin beer glass uthata hai, sip leta hai.

Baap-beta ka dialogue hamesha trailer jaisa hota hai.

Picture kab shuru hogi, kisi ko pata nahi.

Aapko sab funny lagta hai kya, Jatin uncle?

Nahi. Bas aadat hai.

Beat.

Manish cash tin ko push karke side mein rakhta hai. Receipt pad uthata hai.

Teri fees ka notice aaya tha aaj.

Aakash ka face tight ho jaata hai.

Main dekh lunga.

Haan, dekh lega. Jaise kal ke assignment ko

“dekh” ke submit kar diya tha.

Papa, main bachcha nahi hoon.

Pata hai.

Isliye tension aur zyada hoti hai.

Jatin dono ko dekhta hai. Soft smile.

Mardon ka problem yehi hai.

Pyaar bhi budget mein bolte hain.

“Kitna hua?” “Kaise hua?” “Kyun hua?”

Seedha “theek hai” koi bolta hi nahi.

Aap philosophy class mein the kya?

Nahi. Zindagi class mein.

Aakash scoffs, but listens.

Mujhe bas itna pata hai, Papa ko lagta hai

main unki mehnat samajhta nahi.

Aur mujhe lagta hai tu meri mehnat ko

halka leta hai.

Kyunki aap bolte hi nahi kya kar rahe ho!

Har cheez bolke ki jaati hai kya?

Haan! Kabhi kabhi haan!

Silence. Streetlight ka blue glass pe reflect hota hai.

Jatin apni shirt ke pocket se ek purana envelope nikaalta hai. Counter par rakhta hai.

Phir suno. Bolke hi karni chahiye.

Manish envelope ko dekh kar sakht ho jaata hai.

Ye kya hai?

Jatin envelope kholta hai. Tuition receipts, bank slips, handwritten notes.

Aakash uth khada hota hai.

Ye... meri fees?

Jatin nod karta hai.

Haan.

Aap ne... kyun?

Charity nahi.

Hisab hai.

Manish ka chehra dark ho jaata hai.

Kaunsa hisab?

Yaad hai, Manish?

Jab mere baap ke baad main phase tha,

tab tune jo paisa diya tha?

Bina naam, bina shor.

Bola tha—“Wapas mat karna. Bas padhai kar.”

Manish ka gussa ek second ko toot jaata hai.

Woh purani baat...

Purani hi sahi.

Main bhoola nahi.

Teri wajah se main aaj yahan baitha hoon.

Aur is ladke ki fees...

samajh le, one more round.

Aakash stunned. Manish jaw tight.

Tune mujhe bataya kyun nahi?

Kyunki tu mana karta.

Aur main janta tha tu izzat ko

paise se zyada important maanta hai.

Main apne bete ka kharcha khud...

Khud hi toh kar raha tha.

Bas main saath de raha tha.

Beat. Aakash slowly sits back down.

Papa... aapne mujhe bataya kyun nahi?

Manish looks at him. Vulnerable now.

Kyunki main chahta tha tu bade hoke

kisi ka bojh na lage.

Aur shayad... main darr raha tha

ki tu samajh jayega main itna strong bhi nahi.

Aakash ki aankhon mein guilt.

Main aapko weak samajh raha tha.

Aur main tujhe ungrateful.

Jatin softly clears his throat, emotional but hiding it.

Dekh lo. Bar band, aur finally baat khul gayi.

Aakash ek beer glass uthata hai, phir Manish ko de deta hai.

Next round meri taraf se.

Manish first surprised, then smiles despite himself.

Teri taraf se?

Haan. One more round.

Jatin laughs, genuine and warm.

Bas. Yeh hui na family.

Manish receipt pad se envelope ko tap karta hai, then cash tin band karta hai.

Chalo. Par glass dhone mein help karoge.

Deal.

Main witness hoon.

Teenon ek dusre ko dekhte hain. Awkward, soft, real.