Cockroaches in Love

PART ONE: PEHCHAAN

Day 10 — June 28, 2026 Jantar Mantar, Delhi

Garmi ka asar alag hi tha Dilli mein. Pratima Sharma Rajiv Chowk metro se utri, uske haath mein ek chhota backpack tha jisme paani ki bottles, ek blanket, aur ek ajeeb si bechaini thi. Umr unnis saal, Lucknow ki rehne waali, NEET ki tayyari karne waali ladki. Par May 3, 2026 ke baad sab badal gaya tha.

Paper leak ho gaya tha.

Papa ne kaha tha, "Ja beta. Koi toh awaaz uthaye."

Jantar Mantar pahunchi toh samundar dikha—kaale t-shirts mein dubi hui bheed. Sab pe cockroach ka logo. Koi has raha tha, koi chillaa raha tha, sab ek dusre se alag par ek jazbe se judi hui.

"First time?" ek awaaz aayi peechhe se.

Pratima mudi. Lamba ladka khada tha, aankhon mein kuchh alag sa josh. Haath mein do chai ke cup.

"itna obvious hai?" usne cheeks garam mehsoos kiye.

"Tumhari aankhein aise ghoom rahi hain jaise exam ke liye yaad kar rahi ho sab kuchh," ladka muskuraaya. "Main Abhishek. Abhishek Gupta. Rohtak se."

"Pratima. Lucknow." Usne chai li. "Haan, first time. Mere friends aane waale the par darr gaye. Mummy-Papa ne mana kar diya."

Abhishek ne sar hilaaya. "Same story. Main toh Haryana se teen doston ke saath aaya hun. Post-graduate hain sab. Engineers. Berozgaar." Hass diya, par uski hassi mein kuchh tha. "Yahan NEET ke liye nahi aaya hun. Yeh system ke khilaaf hain jo hume chabaa jaata hai."

Pratima uski baaton mein kho gayi. Woh yahan apne sapnon ke tootne ke gham mein thi, par Abhishek toh jaise intezaar kar raha tha is pal ka.

Aage stage pe Abhijeet Dipke bol rahe the: "Unhone humein cockroach kaha. Unhe pata nahi—cockroach sab kuchh survive kar lete hain. Empires ke baad bhi zinda rehte hain!"

Bheed zor se chillai. Pratima ke haath mein goosebumps aa gaye.

---

Day 11 — June 29

Raat bhar neend nahi aayi. Garmi, machchar, aur woh awaaz—cockroach, cockroach—dimag mein ghoomti rahi. Par subah 5 baje, jab pehli roshni India Gate pe padi, Pratima ne kuchh mehsoos kiya jo mahino baad mehsoos kar rahi thi: umeed.

Medical aid station ke paas Abhishek mila, ORS packets baant raha tha.

"Raat kaise guzri?" usne poochha, aankhein roshan ho gayi use dekh kar.

"Barely," Pratima ne kaha. "Par main rukungi. Train wapas ki... maine hi cancel ki hai."

Abhishek zor se hansa. "Accha hai. Suno, shaam ko hum logon ka ek group hota hai—Haryana ke ladke, DU ki ladkiyaan. Discussion, poetry, aur... aur bhi kuchh. Aaj aana?"

"Kaisa kuchh?"

Muskuraaya. "Dekhna padega. Doston ko bhi laana, agar bana li toh."

Shaam tak Pratima ne dost bana liye. Priya, DU ki student jo Ambedkar ki baatein karti thi. Rizwan, Bhopal se jo apne bhai ko NEET scandal mein kho chuka tha. Aur Megha, Kanpur se jo protest signs paint karti thi.

Shaam ka session ek banyan tree ke neeche hua. Kisi ne Bluetooth speaker laaya tha. Lagbhag bees log baithe the, Parliament building door dikhta tha.

"Truth or Dare?" kisine chillaaya.

Shuruat mein toh simple tha—pehle crush ke baare mein baatein, dares mein slogans chillana. Par jaise raat gehri hui, energy badal gayi.

Rizwan ne dare liya, Priya ke gaal pe kiss kiya. Megha ne truth diya—sex ke baare mein baat ki, sab hans diye.

Phir Abhishek ki baari aayi.

"Dare," usne confidently kaha.

Vikram, uska Haryana ka dost, shaitaani se muskuraaya. "Main tujhe dare karta hun—yahan se kisi ko choose kar, aur use hug kar. Tight. Paanch minute tak. Aur aankhein band nahi kar sakta."

Abhishek ne circle mein dekha. Pratima neeche dekh rahi thi, haath se dhool mein kuchh bana rahi thi.

"Pratima," Abhishek ne kaha. "Agar woh maane toh."

Sab mud ke dekhe. Pratima ka dil tez dhadak raha tha. Par kuchh tha is moment mein—anonymity, bheed, kuchh bada hone ka ehsaas.

"Thik hai," usne dheemi awaaz mein kaha.

Dono khade hue. Abhishek paas aaya, itne paas ki uski deodorant ki smell aa rahi thi—sweat aur kuchh aur.

"Paanch minute," Vikram ne phone pe timer lagaya. "Aur eye contact. Dekhna zaroori hai."

Abhishek ne dheere se haath badhaye, Pratima ko wapas jaane ka mauka diya. Jab woh nahi gayi, usne gale lagaya. Uski bahein uski kamar pe thi, Pratima ke haath uske shoulders pe.

"Hi," usne whisper kiya.

"Hi," Pratima ne saans li.

Eye contact mushkil tha. Abhishek ki aankhein dark brown thi, streetlight mein gold flecks dikhte the. Minute do tak toh bas saansein sync hui.

Minute teen pe uski nazar uske honthon pe gayi, phir wapas aankhon mein—ek sawaal tha wahan.

Minute chaar tak Pratima ke ghutne kamzor ho gaye the.

"Time!" Vikram chillaaya, par awaaz door lag rahi thi.

Dono turant alag nahi hue. Abhishek ne thoda zor se pakda, thoda aur paas kheencha.

"Tum jasmine ki tarah mehakti ho," usne kaha.

"Tum revolution ki tarah," Pratima ne kaha, aur dono hans diye.

---

Day 12 — June 30

Agli subah Pratima ussi hug ke baare mein soch kar uthi. Raat bhar neend nahi aayi, woh paanch minute baar-baar yaad kar rahi thi.

Community kitchen mein Abhishek mila, parathe bana raha tha.

"Neend achhi aayi?" usne poochha, profile se muskura raha tha.

"Zyaada nahi. Tumhe?"

"Cheezein... yaad aa rahi thi." Usne paratha palata. "Sun Pratima, sach bolun? Main sirf protest ke liye nahi aaya. I mean, haan, yeh bhi hai. Par main politics mein aana chahta hun. Eventually. Papa sarpanch the. Main political meetings mein bada hua. Yeh movement—yeh shuruaat hai."

"Toh tum protest use kar rahe ho?" Pratima ne disappointment chhupaya nahi.

"Nahi," woh mud ke poora chehra uski taraf kiya. "Main invest kar raha hun. Main ismein vishwaas karta hun. Par potential bhi dekhta hun. CJP sirf meme ya moment nahi. Generation shift ho sakta hai. Aur main usse banane mein hissa lena chahta hun."

Pratima ne socha. "Yeh... actually admirable hai. Zyadatar ladke toh bas... you know... pants mein jaane ke liye idealistic ban jaate."

Abhishek ki aankhein badi hui, phir zor se hansa. "Tumne abhi yeh kaha?"

"Main NEET aspirant hun, Abhishek. Teen saal coaching centers mein rahi hun jahan ladke biology tutorials ko pickup lines samajhte hain. Mujhe performance aur sincerity ka farq pata hai."

"Aur main kaunsa hun?"

Usne paratha liya. "Bataungi."

---

Day 14 — July 2

Protest apni rhythm mein aa gaya tha. Subah organizing—posters, social media. Dopahar speeches. Shaam cultural programs.

Abhishek aur Pratima saath rehne lage. Haath pakad ke baithte, shoulders touch karte.

Aaj shaam gathering chhoti thi. Koi "Never Have I Ever" suggest kar raha tha.

"Never have I ever kissed someone passionately," Priya ne kaha.

Kuchh logone haath uthaye. Phir dares shuru hue.

Vikram ne Pratima ko dekha. "Never have I ever... aaj raat yahan kisi ko kiss karna chahti hun."

Pratima ka dil ruk sa gaya. Usne kabhi kiss nahi ki thi. Ninth grade ka peck count nahi hota. Woh masoom rehne ke liye haath uthane waali thi, par realize kiya—usse kiss karna chahiye tha. Abhishek se. Itni intensity se ki darr bhi lag raha tha.

Haath nahi uthaya. Chup rahi.

"Pratima?" Priya ne poochha.

Main..." Abhishek ko dekha. Woh wapas dekh raha tha, expression samajh nahi aa raha.

"Usne kiya hai," Abhishek ne dheemi awaaz mein kaha. "Aur maine bhi."

Group excited ho gaya.

"Toh dare poora karo," Vikram bola. "Proper kiss. Cheek wala nahi."

Pratima ghabra gayi. "Main... kabhi..."

"Thik hai," Abhishek paas aaya. "Bas follow my lead. Aur agar rokna ho, toh rok dena."

Usne uska chehra apne haathon mein liya, thumbs cheekbones pe. Touch itna gentle tha ki aankhein bhar aayi. Phir dheere se aaya, har mauka diya peechhe hatne ka.

Nahi hati.

Uske honth uske honthon se mile—soft, questioning. Woh ek second freeze hui, phir relax kar gayi. Uske honth uske against move kare, pehle gentle, phir zyada pressure. Usne realize kiya ki usne uski t-shirt pakad li hai. Poora body alive feel ho raha tha.

Jab alag hue, toh dono saans le rahe the.

"Wow," Pratima ne kaha.

"Haan," Abhishek ne kaha. "Wow."

---

Day 16 — July 4

Ab officially "going around" ho gaye the, jaise Abhishek kehta tha. Pratima ne kabhi boyfriend nahi banaya tha. Coaching center ne poori adolescence kha li thi. Ab unnis saal ki umr mein sab ek saath experience kar rahi thi—protest, politics, passion.

Din saath mein—CJP meetings mein haath pakad ke, journalists se baat karte waqt bhi.

Raat mein gathering badhti ja rahi thi. Aaj shaam banyan tree ke neeche sabse zyada log the. Gaane gaaye—purane protest songs, naye rap anthems.

Kisi ne whiskey ka bottle nikaala. Par Pratima ne mana kar diya. Sab kuchh yaad rakhna tha.

Abhishek uske paas aaya, Parliament building door dekh rahi thi.

"Kya soch rahi ho?"

"Bas... ek mahina pehle meri life kitni alag thi. Organic chemistry rat rahi thi. Ab revolution plan kar rahi hun."

"Tu plan nahi kar rahi. Jee rahi hai." Woh paas baitha, shoulders touch hue. "Aaj phone aaya. Ek political party se. Baat karna chahte hain. Iske baad."

"Kaunsi party?"

"Farq nahi padta. Point yeh hai... they're watching. Potential dekh rahe hain."

Pratima ne usse dekha. Moonlight mein woh 24 saal ka lag raha tha, stress ki lines aur hope ka mix.

"Jo bhi choose karna," usne kaha, "sahi reason se karna. Power ke liye nahi. Logon ke liye."

Usne uska maatha chuma. "Tum itni wise kabse ho gayi?"

"Jab se Rohtak ke ladke se milli jisne sikhaya ki politics personal ho sakti hai."

---

Day 18 — July 6

Sonam Wangchuk protest mein shaamil ho gaye the.

Magsaysay Award winner, unki awaaz gentle par firm thi. "Main kuchh nahi khaunga," unhone kaha, "jab tak government written assurance nahi deti."

Energy badal gayi. Yeh sirf youth movement nahi raha. National moment ban gaya.

Abhishek ne Pratima ka haath tightly pakda. "Yeh history hai. Hum history ka hissa hain."

Us raat gathering tense thi. Police presence badh gayi thi. Crackdown ki rumors.

"Kuchh fun karte hain," Priya ne suggest kiya. "Yaad dilate hain ki hum kyun hain."

Pratima aur Abhishek ka naam aaya. "Seven minutes in heaven"—modified version. Do log, saat minute, tent mein, jo chahein karein.

Jab dono ka naam aaya, toh cheers hue.

Tent mein ghusse. Dhool ki smell, plastic. Bahar protest ki awaazein aa rahi thi.

"Kuchh nahi karna padega," Abhishek ne kaha. "Bas baat kar sakte hain."

Par Pratima thak gayi thi achhi ladki banne se. Ussne usse kheencha, neeche blankets pe.

"Bas mujhe hug karlo," usne kaha. "Tight. Bahut tight."

Woh aaya, usse gale lagaya. Itna tight ki saansein mushkil se aa rahi thi. Par achha lag raha tha—safe, warm, real.

Saat minute stretched toh pandrah. Bahar kisi ne kuchh nahi kaha. Sab samajh rahe the.

Jab nikle, toh donke chehre flushed the. Kisi ne kuchh nahi kaha.

---

Day 20 — July 8

Government nervous ho rahi thi. CJP ke 22 million Instagram followers. International media—BBC, Al Jazeera. "Cockroach Revolution" headlines ban raha tha.

Pratima ne Papa ko phone kiya. "Main safe hun. News mat dekho, hum peaceful hain."

"Ghar aa jao, beta," Papa ki awaaz chinta se bhari thi. "Mummy ko neend nahi aati."

"Jaldi hi, Papa. Jab yeh khatam hoga."

Par khatam hone ka naam nahi le raha tha. Abhijeet Dipke ki speeches aur fiery hoti ja rahi thi. Sonam Wangchuk patla hota ja raha tha. Police presence bhari hoti ja rahi thi.

Abhishek leader ban raha tha. Haryana ke ladke usse dekhte the. Security rotations organize karta tha, journalists se baat karta tha.

"Tum sach mein yeh kar sakte ho," Pratima ne ek raat kaha. "Politics. Achhe ho ismein."

"Chahata hun," usne kaha. "Par tum bhi chahati hun. Iske baad, jab real life shuru hogi. Main chahta hun yeh continue rahe."

"Real life kharab kar degi?"

"Tum sirf woh ladki nahi ho jise maine protest mein kiss kiya. Tum woh ladki ho jisne mujhe bataya main kyun lad raha hun. Tumhare sapne, tumhara doctor banna—yeh sab ab mere liye personal hai."

Usne usse wohi raat kiss kiya, India Gate ke neeche, stars ke neeche.

---

Day 22 — July 10

Supreme Court ne NEET crisis pe petition sunne se mana kar diya. CJI Surya Kant ne kaha, "We are not interested in videos; we don't have time to watch."

Yeh remark aag ki tarah faila. Confirmation tha—system parwaah nahi karta. Judiciary, government, institutions—protesters ko irritant samajhte hain, cockroaches jo haat se hataye jaayen.

"July 20th," Abhijeet Dipke ne announce kiya. "Sansad Chalo. Parliament march karenge."

Controversial tha. Kuchh peaceful rehna chahte the. Abhishek jaise log escalation ke liye argue kar rahe the.

"Unka attention hai," usne strategy meeting mein kaha. "Ab action chahiye. March violence nahi hai. Numbers aur will power ka demonstration hai."

Pratima ne usse speak karte dekha, logon ko sunte dekha, aur garv se bhar gayi.

Us raat gathering nahi hui. Chhote groups mein log baith ke July 20th ke baare mein baat kar rahe the.

Pratima aur Abhishek India Gate tak chal ke gaye. Haath pakde, chup.

"Agar July 20th ko kuchh ho," Abhishek ne kaha, "tumhe pata hona chahiye. Main tumse pyaar karta hun. Pata hai jaldi hai. Pata hai bubble mein hain. Par karta hun. Tumhari strength, tumhari honesty, tumhara tareeka duniya ko dekhne ka—se sab pyaar hai. Tumhara kiss ka tareeka, jaise tum drown kar rahi thi aur main hawa tha—"

Usne uske honthon pe kiss kar ke usse chup karaya.

"Main bhi pyaar karti hun," usne kaha. "Tumse, tumhare stupid ambitious beautiful hone se."

---

Day 25 — July 13

Sonam Wangchuk ko forcibly hospitalise kiya gaya.

Subah subah police aayi, unhe zabardasti uthaya, Safdarjung Hospital le gayi. CJP ne "kidnapping" ka aarop lagaya.

Protest erupt ho gaya. Gussa. Abhijeet Dipke ne apna hunger strike shuru kiya.

Pratima ne Abhishek ko transform hote dekha. Playful, passionate ladka jo banyan tree ke neeche kiss karta tha, ab fierce organizer ban gaya tha.

"Smart rehna hoga," usne group ko kaha. "Poori duniya dekh rahi hai. Ek galat move, ek violence hamari side se, aur hooligan bana denge humein."

"Par Wangchuk..." kisine protest kiya.

"Wangchuk safe hain. Abhi ke liye. Pressure continue karte hain. March continue karte hain."

Us raat pehli baar Pratima ko asli darr laga. Pehle kiss ka darr nahi tha, Papa ke naraz hone ka darr nahi tha. Yeh darr tha—kuchh bura hone ka. Log hurt ho sakte hain.

Usne Abhishek ko akele baithte dekha, phone pe kuchh dekh raha tha.

"Kya hua?"

"Mummy ka phone tha. Newspaper mein photo dekhi meri. Proud hain. Par darr bhi lag raha hai. Ghar bulaa rahi hain."

"Jaoge?"

"Jab tak khatam nahi hota." Usne usse godi mein baithaya, face neck mein chhupaaya. "Par darr lag raha hai, Pratima. Mujhe nahi, tumhare liye. Agar tumhe kuchh hua—"

"Kuchh nahi hoga," usne kaha, par khud bhi believe nahi kar rahi thi.

---

Day 28 — July 16

Delhi High Court ne Sonam Wangchuk ko Medanta Hospital Gurugram shift karne ki permission di. Unhone fast end karne se mana kar diya. Condition deteriorate ho rahi thi.

Protest site media circus ban gaya tha. Cameras har jagah, journalists har kisi se baat kar rahe the.

Abhishek spokesperson ban gaya tha. Haryana background, education, articulate anger—accha TV banata tha. Pratima ne borrowed phone pe dekha, BBC reporter se baat karte hue.

"Famous hone wala hai," Priya ne kaha, uske paas baithi.

"Pehle se hai," Pratima ne kaha.

"Chinta nahi hai? Ke politics mein chala jaayega aur tum bas NEET aspirant reh jaogi?"

Pratima ne socha. "Nahi. Kyunki main sirf woh nahi rahungi. NEET clear karungi. Doctor banungi. Aur woh duniya badlega. Aur hum beech mein milenge."

Priya muskuraayi. "Ya toh bahut wise ho, ya bahut naive."

"Shayad dono."

---

Day 30 — July 18

Do din march mein hain.

Energy electric thi. Sab jaante the kuchh bada hone wala hai. Government ne Dharmendra Pradhan ko naukri se nahi hataya. CJP ki maangen poori nahi hui. July 20th Sansad Chalo march aakhri chance tha.

Poora din logistics mein nikal gaya. Route planning, emergency contacts, first aid stations ki locations decide karna. Abhishek ne ek map pe Parliament ke aaspaas ke ilake ko mark kiya.

"Yahan police sabse zyada hogi," usne bataya apne group ko. "Lekin hum yahan se nahi, yahan se jayenge." Usne ek aur route dikhaya.

Pratima ne usse dekha—kaise woh leader ban gaya tha. Pehle woh ladka jo chai baant ta tha, ab log uski baat sun rahe the, uski planning pe bharosa kar rahe the.

Shaam ko jab sab thak gaye, toh Pratima aur Abhishek Jantar Mantar ke corner pe baithe. Aaspaas ke dusre protesters so rahe the, kuchh low voice mein gaane ga rahe the.

"Dar lag raha hai," Pratima ne finally kaha. Yeh pehli baar tha jab usne yeh admit kiya.

Abhishek ne uska haath pakda. "Mujhe bhi."

"Sach?"

"Hamesha. Par ab aur zyada. Kyunki ab mere paas kho dene ke liye kuchh hai." Usne uski taraf dekha. "Pehle main bas khud tha. Apne sapne, apni ambition. Ab tum ho. Aur agar tumhe kuchh hua toh..."

"Kuchh nahi hoga," usne kaha, par awaaz kamzor thi.

"Kal raat soya nahi main," Abhishek ne kaha. "Bas sochta raha ki agar march successful hua, toh kya hoga? Agar government ne maan li humari baat, toh? Aur agar nahi maani, toh?"

"Dono case mein kya hoga?"

"Success mila toh main aur zyada involved ho jaunga politics mein. Yeh movement bada hoga. Aur main tumhe saath le ke chalna chahunga. Lekin tumhara NEET, tumhara doctor banna—main tumhare sapnon ke beech nahi aana chahata."

Pratima ne socha. "Aur agar fail hue hum?"

"Toh shayad jail jayenge. Ya aur zyamar protest hoga." Woh ruka. "Par jo bhi ho, main tumse dur nahi hounga. Yeh pakka hai."

Woh utha, uska haath pakad ke usse bhi uthaya. "Chalo, thodi der ghoom ke aate hain. Shaanti se. Kal... kal pata nahi kya hoga."

Woh Jantar Mantar se door, Parliament Street ki taraf chal diye. Raat ki dilli mein traffic kam tha, par police jyada thi. Har corner pe barricades, har chowk pe security。

"Yeh dekh ke darr lagta hai," Pratima ne kaha, ek barricade ko dekhte hue.

"Yeh dekh ke himmat milti hai," Abhishek ne jawab diya. "Itna darr hai unhe humse. Ek bheed se, students se. Iska matlab hum awaaz utha rahe hain, sahi jagah pe utha rahe hain."

Woh India Gate ke paas pahunche. Monument roshan tha, par aaj kuchh alag lag raha tha—jaise dekh raha ho ki kal yahan kya hone wala hai.

"Main ek promise karna chahta hun," Abhishek ne kaha, wahan khade hokar.

"Kaisa?"

"Chahe kal kuchh bhi ho, chahe march successful ho ya nahi, chahe main jail jaun ya hospital jaun—main tumhara saath nahi chhodunga. Yeh movement khatam hone ke baad bhi, main tumse pyaar karunga. Real life mein, jahan organic chemistry nahi, bills honge. Jahan protests nahi, roz ki mushkilein hongi. Wahan bhi."

Pratima ki aankhein bhar aayi. "Yeh sabse romantic baat hai jo tumne kahi hai."

"Kyun? Kyunki maine bills mention kiye?" Woh muskuraaya.

"Nahi, kyunki tumne future socha. Humara future."

Woh dono wahin khade hue, haath pakde, kal ke andheron ko dekhte hue jo anjaan tha, lekin saath mein face karne ke liye taiyaar the.

---

Day 32 — July 20 Sansad Chalo March

Sansad Chalo March

Subah se pehle Pratima uth gayi, pet mein knots. Protest site pe already buzzing tha. Final preparations, phone pe updates check karna.

Abhishek medical tent ke paas mila.

"Peechhe rehna," usne serious awaaz mein kaha. "Agar kuchh bura hua, bhaagna. Brave banne ki koshish nahi karna."

"Abhishek—"

"Promise karo, Pratima. Promise karo safe rahogi."

"Promise."

Usne zor se hug kiya, hawa mein uthaaya. "Main tumse pyaar karta hun. Yaad rakhna. Chahe kuchh bhi ho aaj."

"Main bhi pyaar karti hun. Wapas aana."

Jaldi se kiss hua, desperate aur chhota, phir woh chala gaya, Haryana ke ladkon ke saath front pe.

March 10 baje shuru hua. Hazaaron log—students, activists, aam log. Parliament ki taraf badhe. Naara lagaya: "Cockroach nahi, nagrik hain! Hum Bharat ki awaaz hain!"

Pratima bheed ke beech mein thi, dil tez dhadak raha tha. Police presence massive thi—barricades, riot gear, water cannons. Par sab peaceful tha. Ab tak.

Pehla barricade India Gate ke paas mila. Bheed aage badhi, chillati, gaati. Police apni jagah pe khadi thi. Kuchh der tak sirf push-pull chala—protesters aage, police pakad ke rakhe hue.

Phir kisine—kissi ne—pathar phenka.

Awaaz nahi thi pehle. Sirf ek swoosh. Phir police ki taraf se kuchh phenka gaya. Thak—ek awaaz, aur phir safed dhhuan fail gaya. Tear gas.

Smell aayi pehle—tez, chemical, jaize ki mirchi jali ho. Aankhein jalne lagi, paani behne laga. Phir awaaz—protesters ke chillane ki, police ke whistle ki, aur kuchh alag—dham-dham-dham—lathiyon ki awaaz, jaise koi bhaari darwaza band ho raha ho, baar-baar.

Pratima ne aankhein band ki, haath se muh dhaka. Saans lena mushkil ho gaya. Koi usse peechhe kheench raha tha, koi aage dhakel raha tha. Koi gira, kisi ne usse uthaya, phir koi aur gira.

Ek pal ke liye usne Priya ko dekha—woh DU waali ladki jo Ambedkar padhti thi, ab paani ke cannon ke neeche gir gayi thi, uske kale baal chehre pe chipak gaye the, koi usse uthaane ki koshish kar raha tha. Door Rizwan ka chehra dikha—woh chillaa raha tha, "Peaceful! Peaceful!" par uski awaaz dhhuan mein kho rahi thi. Megha? Kahan thi Megha? Koi time nahi tha sochne ka.

"Abhishek!" Pratima ne chillaya, par uski awaaz apne hi kaan mein nahi sunayi di—itna shor tha, itna dhhuan tha.

Woh aage bhaagi, bheed ke beech se fight karti hui. Kisi ke elbow se uske ribs mein lagi. Kisi ne uske paer pe paer rakh diya. Girte hue bachchi, haath se kisi ke shoulder ko pakda, khud ko khincha.

Jab usne aankhein kholi—dhhuan ke beech se—sab kuchh slow motion mein chal raha tha. Police ki lathiyan upar, neeche. Log girte hue. Aur wahan, ek black t-shirt—Abhishek, haath upar kar ke, kuchh kehte hue, ek police waale ke saamne.

"Bhai, shanti se!" woh Hindi mein chilla raha tha. "Hum peaceful hain!"

Police waale ne lathi uthaya. Pratima ne distance cover kiya—dus feet, paanch feet, do feet—

"Abhishek, dekh!" usne chillaya.

Par awaaz chaos mein kho gayi. Lathi neeche aayi. Ek. Do. Teen.

Abhishek gir gaya.

Pratima bheed se fight karti hui aage gayi. Kisi ne uska haath pakda, rokne ki koshish ki. Usne zor se kheencha, gira diya kisi ko, paar kiya. Uske doston ne usse peechhe khinchne ki koshish ki—"Chhod do! Police aayenge!"—par woh nahi ruki.

Woh paunchi, uska sir godi mein liya. Sar se khoon aa raha tha, ek gash tha eye ke upar. Arm galat angle pe tha—shayad toota tha.

"Hospital!" kisine chillaaya. "Ambulance!"

Pratima ne uska sir pakda, haath se khoon pocha. Uske doston ne stretcher laaya, usse peechhe khincha.

"Abhishek, dekh mujhe. Dekho!" Woh ro rahi thi, aansu uske khoon pe gir rahe the. "Tumne promise kiya tha. Wapas aane ka promise kiya tha."

Uski aankhein khuli, unfocused thi. "Pratima?" usne dhimi awaaz mein kaha.

"Main hun. Main yahin hun. Mat move karo. Please mat move karo."

"Hum... jeete?" usne poochha, saans mushkil se aa rahi thi.

"Chup. Energy bachao. Bas mujhe dekhte raho."

Par uski aankhein band ho rahi thi, jaise koi door ki neend aa rahi ho. Body limp ho gayi, jaise usmein se kuchh nikal gaya ho.

"Nahi, nahi, nahi!" Pratima chillayi. "Ruko! Koi kuchh karo!"

Ambulance ki sirens door se sunayi di. Log raasta bana rahe the. Police peechhe hat rahi thi, mission poora kar ke. Protesters scatter ho gaye the, kuchh injured, kuchh ro rahe the, kuchh bas khade hokar dekh rahe the ki kya bacha hai unki revolution ka.

Ambulance workers aaye, stretcher pe daala. Pratima ne uska haath nahi chhoda. Jab woh andar jaane lage, toh usne roka.

"Miss, aap nahi—"

Woh ruki. Ek pal ke liye time freeze ho gaya. Fiancée—yeh word uske dimaag mein aaya. Lucknow ki woh ladki, jisne kabhi boyfriend nahi banaya, jisne Mummy-Papa se jhooth bola tha ki "friend ke ghar ruk rahi hun," jisne socha tha ki pehle doctor banegi, phir shaadi, phir bachche—woh ladki yahan khadi thi, ek aise ladke ke liye jo usse do hafte pehle mila tha, jiske liye woh yeh sab bol rahi thi.

Yeh "filmy" tha. Yeh "crazy" tha. Par yeh sach tha. Aur is moment mein, yeh sab kuchh tha.

"Main uski fiancée hun," usne kaha, aur jaise hi yeh words nikle, usse realize hua—woh Lucknow wali Pratima, woh achhi beti, woh seedhi NEET aspirant, woh officially peechhe chhoot gayi thi. Yeh nayi Pratima thi, jo pyaar ke liye jhooth bol sakti thi, jo darr ke bawajood nahi rukti thi, jo ek stranger ke liye "fiancée" ban sakti thi kyunki uska dil yeh keh raha tha.

"Main aa rahi hun," usne zor se kaha, aur ambulance mein chadh gayi bina kisi aur argument ka.

Doors band hue. Sirens chillaye. Pratima ne Abhishek ka haath pakda—thanda lag raha tha, bejaan sa. Woh behosh tha, oxygen mask pe, khoon band nahi ho raha tha uske sar se.

"Abhishek," usne kaha, awaaz kamzor thi. "Tum sun rahe ho? Main tumse baat kar rahi hun. Woh ladki jo tumse milli thi, jisne pehli baar hug kiya tha, jisne pehli baar kiss kiya tha—woh yahin hai. Aur woh nahi jaane wali. Samjhe?"

Koi response nahi. Bas machine ki beep, aur ambulance ki speed, aur Delhi ki sadakon pe ek ladki ke aansu jo apne aap ko dhoondh rahi thi, apne aap ko khoya rahi thi, ek revolution ke beech mein.

Unki kahani ka pehla hissa wahin khatam hua—ambulance ke peechhe, Dilli ki sadakon pe, ek revolution ke beech mein jo abhi bhi chal raha tha, par ab unke liye sirf background noise tha.

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To Be Continued...