Exam Time in Delhi-NCR

Bus Stop Subah ka Delhi-NCR apna alag hi mood leke aaya tha — thandi hawa, dhundh ka halka sa layer, aur har bus stop pe ek hi expression: kal exam hai, hum sab marne wale hain. Aanya Mehra ne apni school bag ko dono haathon se pakad rakha tha, jaise uske andar books nahi, poora future packed ho. South Delhi ki road par auto queue dheere-dheere move kar rahi thi. Usne watch dekhi. 6:58. Perfect. Uski life ka favourite number almost never tha, but timing ka control usko sukoon deta tha. Tabhi side se ek awaaz aayi, “Arre waah, Aanya Mehra, subah-subah apocalypse ke time bhi punctual?” Aanya ne mudke dekha. Kabir Sethi. Hoodie, backpack, aur face pe woh usual half-grin jo mostly mask hota tha, full expression kam. “Tum,” Aanya ne bas itna kaha. Kabir ne haath uthaya. “Yes, main hi. Noida se ek hour ka commute karke, exam se pehle, zinda pahunch gaya. Mujhe medal milna chahiye.” Uske peeche Simran Kaur khadi thi, neatly tied braid, blue file in hand, aur face pe woh calmness jo sirf toppers ke paas hoti hai ya jo toppers ka acting version hota hai. “Good morning,” Simran boli, soft voice mein. “Aaj traffic thoda better hai.” Kabir hansa. “Simran, tum har situation mein HR department lagti ho.” Simran ne halki si smile di, par uski aankhon mein neend ka ek thaka hua sa shadow tha. Aanya ne notice kiya. Woh notice bahut kuch karti thi, par bolti kam thi. Teenon normally school mein bas passing nods karte the. Kabir ka loudness Aanya ko irritate karta tha, Simran ka perfection usko intimidating lagta tha, aur Aanya ko khud se zyada kisi pe trust karna waise bhi awkward lagta tha. Par aaj sabka face same language bol raha tha: help, please. Kabir ne apni bag se ek folded sheet nikali. “Dekho, agar paper mein derivations aayi na, main seedha oxygen supply band kar dunga.” Simran ne bina drama ke bola, “Mere paas short formulas hain. Main share kar dungi.” Aanya ne automatically kaha, “Mere revised notes bhi hain.” Teenon ek second ke liye chup ho gaye. Fir Kabir ne dono haath faila diye. “Bas. Aaj se hum official study gang. Bro, sis, and… umm… overachiever sis.” Aanya ne usko dekha. “Main overprepared hoon.” “Same thing,” Kabir bola. Aur is baar Aanya ne uski baat ka reply nahi diya, kyunki bus stop par ek ajeeb sa warmth feel ho rahi thi. Fake bhi thi, thodi si. Par warm. ## Photocopy School ke bahar photocopy shop pe already chaos tha. Ek narrow stall, ek old printer jo har third page pe kharr-kharr karta, aur uske saamne students ka crowd — sabke haath mein notes, tabs, stapled sheets, highlighter marks, aur desperation. “Bhaiya, ye page 12 se 18 do baar,” koi bol raha tha. “Arre meri sheet ka last page missing hai!” “Sir, ek extra copy de do, please!” Kabir seedha counter ke paas ghus gaya. “Bhaiya, mujhe Commerce ke important questions ka print chahiye, aur jo bhi extra important ho, uska bhi extra print.” Photocopy wale ne bina uthe bola, “Extra important ka alag rate hai.” Kabir ne serious face banaya. “Exam ke time pe aap business model explore kar rahe ho, respect.” Aanya ko hansi aayi. Real, unexpected hansi. Usne quickly face neutral kiya, but Simran ne dekh liya. Simran ne apni file kholi. Uske sheets perfectly arranged the, corner pe paper clip, heading underlined, and pages numbered. “Ye le lo,” usne calmly bola. “Accounts ke formulas. Aur chapter-wise summary bhi.” Kabir ne sheet uthayi jaise koi sacred object ho. “Simran, tum toh angel ho.” “Main bas manage kar rahi hoon,” Simran ne automatic line boli. Kabir ne usko side-eye diya. “Tumhara manage karna hi hum sabke liye emergency service hai.” Aanya apni bag se notes nikaal rahi thi. Uski handwriting neat thi, color-coded tabs ke saath. Kabir ne uske notes ko dekhke whistle ki. “Madam, aap toh pure NASA mission ho.” “Notes share kar rahi hoon, joke nahi,” Aanya ne kaha. “Dono accept,” Kabir bola. Photocopy shop ke bahar ek second ka hush tha aur phir phir se noise. Students ek dusre se sheets exchange kar rahe the, jaise paper nahi, oxygen pass kar rahe hon. Aanya ne observe kiya ki jo log saal bhar ek dusre ko barely look karte the, aaj unke beech unspoken alliance ban chuki thi. Fear ka friendship mode. Usko ajeeb sa laga, par bad bhi. Jaise exam ne ego ko temporarily off kar diya ho. ## Bench Talk Assembly ke baad canteen ke paas wali cracked bench khali mili. Teeno wahan baith gaye. School ka ground usual se zyada silent lag raha tha, jaise buildings bhi paper ke pressure ko samajh rahi हों. Kabir ne apna bag bench ke neeche rakha aur bola, “Okay, truth time. Main roz bolta hoon ‘kuch nahi padha’ kyunki agar sach bol diya na, toh mummy ko heart attack aa jayega.” Simran ne uski taraf dekha. “Aur sach kya hai?” Kabir ne shoulder shrug kiya. “Sach? Mujhe paper se utna dar nahi jitna next year ka hai. Commerce le liya, par mujhe samajh hi nahi aa raha ki main actually banna kya chahta hoon. Bas sabko hasata rehta hoon taaki koi ye na pooche.” Aanya ne usko pehli baar seriously suna. Kabir ka loudness achanak thin layer jaisa laga, aur uske neeche ka darr clearly visible. Simran ne apni file close ki. “Main bhi har kisi ko notes isliye deti hoon kyunki agar main mana karun, toh log mujhe selfish bolenge.” Kabir blink kiya. “Tum? Selfish? Impossible.” Simran ki smile thodi thaki hui thi. “Mujhe lagta hai log mujhe tabhi pasand karte hain jab main useful hoon. Otherwise… I don’t know.” Bench par ek chhota silence aaya. Aanya ne apni sleeve ka edge twist kiya. “Mujhe lagta hai agar main top nahi karungi na, toh… sab efforts waste ho jayenge. Papa bolte hain marks hi proof hain ki tumne kuch banne ke liye kaam kiya. Main padh leti hoon, notes banati hoon, sab manage karti hoon. Par trust…” Usne pause kiya. “Trust karna mushkil lagta hai. Kya pata kal koi saath ho, kal nahi.” Kabir ne kuch der kuch nahi bola. Fir bola, “Wah. Teen log aur teen alag types ka trauma. Full package.” Simran ne usko ek look diya. “Tum jokes se bach jaoge?” Kabir ne haath utha diye. “Nahi. Bas atmosphere light kar raha tha.” Aanya ko uski baat pe smile aayi, but is baar woh hide nahi hui. Us bench par pehli baar unka conversation marks se aage gaya tha. Parents, expectations, future, loneliness — sab table pe aa gaya tha, jaise invisible exam sheet. Aur surprisingly, koi judge nahi kar raha tha. ## Group Chat School ka class group, jo saal bhar bas circulars aur “submit by tomorrow” messages se bhara rehta tha, aaj alag hi scene tha. “Bhai formula bhejo.” “Bro, chapter 4 ka one-liner?” “Bestie, derivation ka last step pls 😭” “Guys, panic mat karo. We got this.” Kabir ne group chat pe apna status update kiya: “Last day, last grind, last brain cell surviving.” Aanya ne us message ko stare kiya. Phir usne bina soche apni revision sheet upload kar di. Immediately replies aane lage. “Thank youuu Aanya” “Godsend” “Notes ka queen” Simran ne bhi apne scanned pages bhej diye — clean, perfect, almost too polished for the chaos around them. Aanya ne realise kiya ki poora class wahi kar raha tha jo woh secretly kabhi accept nahi karti thi: sab ek dusre ke bina adhoore the. Yeh friendship permanent thi ya nahi, pata nahi. Par is moment mein, sabko ek dusre ki zarurat thi. Aur shayad zarurat bhi ek form of connection hoti hai. ## Night Revision Raat ko 11:17 baje, Kabir ne call start kiya. Pehle sirf group call thi, phir voice notes, phir random texts, phir back to call. Teenon apne-अपने rooms, balconies, aur study tables ke corners mein the. Aanya ki desk lamp pe yellow light thi. Books lined up. Highlighter cap open. She sat cross-legged on chair, phone speaker on. Kabir ki voice pehle aayi. “Okay, no lies. Mujhe lag raha hai main fail hone wala hoon.” “Kabir,” Simran boli, “tumne poora chapter revise kiya hai.” “Revision aur confidence mein difference hota hai, Simran.” Aanya softly said, “Tum pass ho jaoge.” Kabir ne hansi ka sound nikala, but voice thodi crack hui. “Pass ho jaana bhi issue nahi hai, yaar. Problem Aur phir, jaise pehli baar kisi ne uske andar ki thakan ko naam diya ho, Asha ne gehri saans li. Metro ke glass se bahar Dilli ki lights ek-ek karke jal rahi thi, aur uske phone ki screen par Rajat ka message ab bhi chamak raha tha. “Main aa raha hoon. Gate no. 2 pe wait kar.” Usne pehle toh reply karne ke liye fingers uthayi, phir ruk gayi. Kitne saalon se woh har cheez ka jawaab turant deti aayi thi—ghar ki tension, office ki deadlines, maa ke taane, papa ki khamoshi, aur Rajat ke moods. Aaj pehli baar usne khud se poocha, “Kya main abhi bhi wahi karna chahti hoon?” Metro Seelampur se nikal chuki thi. Uske saamne ek school se lautti hui ladki apni mother ki lapel pakad ke hansi ja rahi thi. Ek uncle apne lunch box ka dabba tight band kar rahe the. Ek college boy headphones laga ke window mein haar maan chuka sa baitha tha. Sabke chehron pe apni-apni thakan thi, par ek ajeeb si continuity bhi—jaise Dilli sabko bhaagta hua rakhti ho, aur phir bhi kabhi-kabhi kisi chhote se pal mein rok ke keh deti ho, “Bas, ek minute.” Asha ne phone lock kiya aur bag mein rakh diya. “Main khud aa jaungi,” usne dheere se khud se kaha. Jab metro Kashmere Gate par aake rukki, usne utarne ka decision bina soche le liya. Platform pe utarte hi hawa thandi thi, aur crowd ka shor kisi purane pressure cooker ki seeti jaisa. Woh stairs chadhte hue ruki, kyunki usko achanak yaad aaya—pichhle teen mahine se woh har week isi route se Rajat se milne ja rahi thi. Office se seedha, bag kandhe pe, lipstick thodi si, baal thode sambhale hue, aur andar se poori tarah thaki hui. Aaj usne first time apne liye walk karna chuna. Outside, traffic ka red-yellow-green usse jaise dheere se dekh raha tha. Road ke side pe chai ka thela tha. Usne bina soche ek cutting chai li, plastic cup dono haathon se pakda, aur ek nearby bench pe baith gayi. Chai ka pehla sip liya toh uski aankhon ke kone garam ho gaye. Na thakan ki wajah se, na chai ki—bas is feeling se ki itne saalon baad usne khud ke saath baithna choose kiya tha. Tabhi phone vibrate hua. Rajat calling. Asha ne screen dekhi. Ring karti rahi. Phir cut ho gayi. Do second baad message aaya: “Kahan ho? Main gate pe hoon.” Usne cup rakha, aur ek naya message type kiya. “Main ghar ja rahi hoon. Aaj nahi.” Uske thumb ne hover kiya. Phir, without deleting, send dabaya. Message send hote hi uske andar ek ajeeb si khaamoshi phail gayi. Na guilt, na victory. Bas ek seedha sa sach. Usne aasman ki taraf dekha. Delhi ka sky kabhi dramatic nahi hota, par aaj usmein halke orange aur blue ka mix tha, jaise city ne bhi raat se pehle ek saans li ho. Road ke paar ek florist apne gende ke phool Raat ka traffic dheere-dheere kam ho raha tha aur terrace par rakhe chhote se planter ke paas khadi Naina ne apni chai ki cup ko dono haathon se thaam liya. Neeche colony ki lights thodi dhundhli lag rahi thi, jaise kisi ne un par shaam ka soft filter laga diya ho. Uske phone par Rahul ka last message ab bhi chamak raha tha: “Bas pahuncha. Aaj pehli baar lag raha hai ghar sach mein ghar hai.” Naina ne ek lambi saans li.

Khatam