Influencer Ka Ghar: Zindagi Ke Rung: Ek Emotional Hinglish Kahani

Morning Light

Bangalore ki subah mujhe hamesha achchi lagti thi.

Achchi bhi, aur thodi bewakoof bhi.

Bewakoof isliye kyunki woh har cheez ko narm bana deti thi. White curtains ke through aati roshni, kitchen ke slab par girti hui, aise lagti jaise ghar ke andar sab kuch settled ho. Jaise yeh house kisi ne carefully arrange kiya ho—oak-finish dining table, ceramic bowls, beige runner, monstera plant jo har reel mein ek silent co-star ki tarah khada rehta tha. Jaise is ghar mein thakaan ka koi scope hi nahi.

Par thakaan hoti thi.

Bas camera ke pehle achchi tarah chhup jaati thi.

Main tripod set kar rahi thi. Phone ka angle check. Kitchen counter ka clutter hide. Oats bowl ko thoda left, banana slices ko thoda fan jaisa, coffee cup ko thoda steam ke saath. Mere haath is sab mein itne trained ho gaye the ki kabhi-kabhi mujhe apna ghar nahi, ek shoot location lagta tha.

“Ritu,” Sameer ne softly bola, “mera charger dekha kya?”

Mainne screen ke through usko dekha. Woh coffee machine ke paas khada tha, shirt pe ek crease, baalon mein aadhi-neend ki uljhan, aur eyes ke neeche woh permanent grey shadow jo office ke baad bhi office se chipka rehta tha.

“Drawer mein hoga,” maine bola. “Abhi ek second.”

“Tumne kal raat bhi bola tha, ek second.”

Uski voice mein complaint kam tha, exhaustion zyada. Jaise uske paas argue karne ke liye bhi energy kam pad rahi ho.

Yuvan dining chair pe baitha tha, legs swing kar raha tha. School uniform pehna hua tha, par shirt ke top button abhi tak open tha. Uske baal side se thode se ulte-pulte the. Usne toast ka corner kaat ke kaha, “Mamma, aaj bhi photo?”

“Photo nahi, baby. Video,” maine automatically corrective tone mein bola, phir smile ki. “Bas breakfast share karenge.”

“Share karna kyun hota hai?” usne poocha.

Mujhe answer aate aate rukna pada. “Kyuki fun hota hai.”

Sameer ne under-breath murmur kiya, “Aur kyunki brand deal hoti hai.”

Maine uski taraf dekha. Woh mujhe dekh hi nahi raha tha. Par uski line sun li gayi thi.

Mainne camera on kiya. Soft voice, warm smile, practiced ease.

“Good morning, guys. Aaj humari simple Bangalore morning hai—”

“Par aaj school late ho jayega,” Yuvan ne beech mein bol diya.

Mainne laugh jaisa kuch nikala. “Nahi baby, time hai.”

“Par aapne abhi tak mera socks nahi dhoonda.”

Sameer ne coffee cup uthaya. “Khud dhoondh lo.”

Yuvan ne apne papa ko dekha. “Aap hamesha khud dhoondh lo bolte ho. Aapko bhi dhoondhna pasand hai kya?”

Sameer ke lips pe ek thakaan bhari si smile aayi. “Nahi. Pasand nahi hai.”

“Phir?”

“Phir karna padta hai.”

Woh line simple thi. Aur usmein kuch aisa tha jo mere throat mein atak gaya.

Mainne camera ke through un dono ko dekha. Ek thaka hua aadmi, ek jaldi samajh jaane wala baccha. Dono mere frame mein the, par dono mere saath nahi the.

“Okay guys,” maine thodi tezi se bola, “aaj ka breakfast healthy aur quick hai, because mornings need balance.”

Yuvan ne spoon ko plate pe rakh ke kaha, “Mamma, kal raat aap aur Papa kitchen mein phir dheere se bol rahe the.”

Mera haath freeze ho gaya.

Sameer ne bhi usko dekha. Mera stomach ek second ko hollow ho gaya, jaise kisi ne andar se floor nikaal diya ho.

“Dheere se?” maine hansi ki nakli koshish ke saath bola. “Hum bas baat kar rahe the.”

“Baat aise hoti hai?” Yuvan ne genuinely confuse hoke poocha. “Aapki awaaz low ho jaati hai. Papa chup ho jaate hain. Phir aap bolte ho camera ke baad.”

Usne “camera ke baad” aise bola jaise yeh ghar ka ek normal time ho. Jaise dinner ke baad, brush ke baad, camera ke baad.

Maine record stop kar diya.

Aur ek second ke liye Bangalore ki sunlight bhi mujhe thandi lagne lagi.

Filtered Life

Mera kaam simple tha—logon ko simple dikhana.

Aur yeh sabse complicated kaam hota hai.

Maya ka message screen pe pop hua: “Morning reel cute hai. But thoda less staged. Authenticity sells. Aaj ek quick story bhi daal do. Random, natural, warm.”

Mainne phone down rakh diya aur sink mein plates rakhne lagi. Water tap ka noise mujhe hamesha grounded feel karata tha. Jaise jab tak paani chal raha hai, tab tak main ek real insaan hoon.

Sameer living room mein laptop khol ke baith gaya tha. Office call on. Uski back straight thi, par shoulders aise uthe hue jaise kab se koi invisible bag uthaye baitha ho. Woh screen pe “yes” aur “sure” bol raha tha, par uski awaaz mein life kam, duty zyada thi.

Maya ko main sirf PR manager nahi bolti thi. Woh meri industry ki translator thi. She knew how to turn a tired mother into a warm narrative. How to turn a messy kitchen into “relatable content.” How to turn a private life into a brand language.

Pehli baar jab usne mujhe approach kiya tha, usne kaha tha, “Ritu, aapke andar ek comfort hai. Aap perfect nahi lagti. Aur wahi aapki strength hai.”

Mujhe woh compliment laga tha.

Phir woh strategy ban gaya.

“Ritu,” Maya ki voice WhatsApp pe aayi, “brand wants more husband visibility. Family angle. Apne audience ko lagna chahiye ki home is your real brand pillar.”

Mainne ek second ke liye aankhen band ki.

Home is your real brand pillar.

Sameer ne call mute karke meri taraf dekha. “Kis ka message hai?”

“Work.”

“Work ya image?”

Woh seedha sawal tha. Mainne jawab nahi diya.

Kitchen counter pe Yuvan ka socks ka pair pada tha—ek yellow, ek white. Mainne unhe utha kar dekha aur cupboard ke top shelf pe rakh diya, kyunki abhi us waqt mujhe bas koi cheez sahi jagah rakhni thi.

“Ritu,” Sameer ne thoda softer tone mein kaha, “aaj shoot cancel kar dete hain?”

“Kyoon?”

“Kyuki subah se tumhara face live nahi lag raha.”

Mujhe uska bolna bura laga. Aur sach bhi.

“Face live nahi lag raha?” maine repeat kiya. “Main kya dead dikhti hoon?”

Woh thoda sa ruk gaya. “Mera matlab—”

“Matlab samajh aa gaya. Tumhe lagta hai main thaki hui hoon.”

“Main keh raha hoon tum thaki hui ho.”

“Sab thakte hain, Sameer.”

Usne thoda sar jhuka liya. “Haan. Lekin sabko camera pe happy dikhna bhi nahi padta.”

Woh line mujhe chubh gayi.

Yuvan hall se daudta hua aaya. “Mamma, mera blue notebook kahan hai?”

“Study table pe.”

“Wahan nahi hai.”

“Dhoondo.”

Usne pair patak diya. “Aap hamesha dhoondo bolte ho. Aap khud kyun nahi dhoondhte?”

Maine tezi se bola, “Kyuki main busy hoon.”

“Busy kis se?”

Mainne kuch seconds ke liye usko dekha. “Kaam se.”

Woh seedha pooch baitha, “Camera wala kaam?”

Sameer ki nazar meri taraf gayi. Maine uske question ko ignore karne ki koshish ki, par usme ek innocence thi jo ignore karna aur bhi ganda lag raha tha.

Maya ka phir message aaya: “Audience ko aaj ek family moment chahiye. Little chaos, lots of warmth. You know the drill.”

Little chaos. Lots of warmth.

Meri life ka summary.

Mainne final story shoot ki: breakfast table, soft laugh, Yuvan ka toast bite, Sameer background mein coffee lete hue, caption: Simple mornings, warm hearts, and a little chaos. Heart emoji. Coffee emoji. Home emoji.

Post karte waqt mujhe ek chhota sa guilt feel hua. Par guilt bhi ab routine ka part tha—jaise moisturizer, jaise sunscreen, jaise ek aur layer jo upar se smooth dikhati ho.

Comments aane lage.

“So relatable!” “Ritu di is the realest” “Yuvan is such a cutie” “How do you manage it all?”

Mainne phone lock kiya.

Mere saamne sink mein plates thi. Mere peeche Sameer ka silent call. Aur ghar ke andar, kahin kisi corner mein, woh sach jo camera ke baad bhi chup nahi hua tha.

Truth Bomb

Truth bomb dramatic music ke saath nahi aati.

Woh aksar bacche ke normal tone mein aati hai. Jaise uske liye bas ek observation ho.

Shaam ko Maya aa gayi. Pastel kurta, neat bun, aur smile mein woh polished concern jo agency meetings mein bohot kaam aata tha.

“Quick live karte hain,” usne bag side mein rakhte hue kaha. “Family vibe. Audience ko behind the scenes pasand hai. Especially after your last reel.”

Maine uski baat sunte hue hair tie theek ki. Sameer couch pe baitha tha, phone haath mein, par uski attention screen pe nahi thi. Yuvan floor pe Lego se kuch tower bana raha tha.

Maya ne ring light set ki. White circle light phaili. Living room achanak aur zyada neat, aur zyada staged lagne laga.

“Okay,” Maya boli, “Ritu tum yahan. Sameer left. Yuvan center. Natural smiles.”

Sameer ne dry voice mein kaha, “Natural smiles bhi direction se aati hain?”

Maya ne laugh kiya. “Aapka sarcasm bhi cute hai, Sameer.”

Mujhe usse ek warning look dena pada.

Live start hua.

Comment bubbles screen pe turant chalne lage.

“Hi Ritu di!” “Yuvan so cuteee” “Couple goals” “Mommy influencer queen” “Love this family”

Mainne sweet voice mein bola, “Hello everyone. Aaj hum bas ek cozy evening share kar rahe hain.”

Yuvan ne bina upar dekhe Lego ka piece fit karte hue poocha, “Mamma, cozy ka matlab jhagda nahi hota na?”

Mainne hansi ki. “No baby, cozy ka matlab warm and happy hota hai.”

“Phir kal raat cozy nahi thi.”

Room ke andar hawa ruki.

Maya ki smile ek second ko hold se slip hui. Sameer ne seedha Yuvan ki taraf dekha.

Yuvan ko kuch pata hi nahi tha ki usne kya khol diya hai. Uske liye woh bas sach tha. Bina filter ka. Bina strategy ka.

“Tumhe kaise yaad hai?” maine halka sa bolne ki koshish ki.

“Kyuki main jag raha tha,” usne bola. “Aap aur Papa kitchen mein dheere bol rahe the. Phir Papa ne plate rakhi. Phir aapne bola ‘camera ke baad baat karenge’. Main sun raha tha.”

Mera heart literally ek beat ke liye ruk gaya.

Comments mein shor badh gaya.

“Wait what?” “Did he just say camera?” “Is this staged?” “Poor kid” “OMG”

Maya ne instantly handle mode on kiya. “Haha, kids are so observant. They pick up little things and mix them up. You know how imagination works—”

“Main imagination nahi kar raha,” Yuvan ne usse dekhte hue bola. “Main sun raha tha.”

Live pe ek achanak kaafi real silence aa gaya.

Sameer ne low voice mein kaha, “Yuvan, bas.”

Par Yuvan ne papa ko dekha aur poocha, “Bas kyun?”

Us sawal mein koi accusation nahi tha. Sirf confusion.

Bas kyun?

Bas chup kyun?

Bas pretend kyun?

Mainne ring light ke circle mein khud ko dekha—half-lit face, stiff smile, eyes mein panic. Mujhe laga woh light mere chehre ko illuminate nahi kar rahi, expose kar rahi hai.

Maya ne phone ki taraf jhuk kar whisper kiya, “Ritu, live end karo. Abhi.”

Mainne haath badhaya, par finger kaanp rahi thi. End button pe click hua.

Screen black.

Par jo black hua tha, woh sirf live tha. Sach nahi.

Comment Section

Pehle mujhe laga shayad kal tak sab nikal jayega.

Internet kaise bhi ho, short memory ka jhootha sukoon deta hai. Ek controversy, ek apology, ek funny clip, phir next trend. Main is cycle ko achchi tarah jaanti thi. Kabhi kisi brand ne mujhe sikhaya tha, kabhi maine khud ko.

Par iss baar comments ruk nahi rahe the.

“Ritu, are you okay?” “Kids shouldn’t be made content.” “This looks fake.” “Why is everyone acting?” “Mommy influencers are all the same.”

Maya mere paas couch ke edge pe baithi thi, phone haath mein. Uske face pe woh professional concern tha jo emergency mein bhi neat dikhta hai.

“Listen,” usne kaha, “we need to control the narrative. Ek clarification story. Just say Yuvan misheard. You were joking. Sameer and you are fine. That’s it.”

“Fine?” maine repeat kiya.

“Ritu, silence ko log guilt samajh lenge.”

“Shayad guilt hai bhi,” Sameer ne balcony se bola.

Maya ne uski taraf dekha. “Sameer, right now we need to protect the family image.”

Sameer ki hansi bahut halki thi, par usmein kuch tootahua tha. “Family image?”

“Audience care karti hai,” Maya ne kaha. “They’re invested.”

“Invested?” Sameer ne phone se nazar hata kar usse dekha. “Ya entertained?”

Maya ne jawab nahi diya.

Mainne ek comment padha—ek woman ka, username Fan Didi. “Ritu beta, agar tum thak gayi ho na, toh bol do. Humein perfect family nahi chahiye. Humein tum chahiye.”

Maine us message ko do baar padha.

Dil ke andar kuch aisa hila jaise kisi ne quietly ek closed window khol di ho.

Maya ne mere shoulder ko touch kiya. “Ritu, don’t get emotional about random comments. Tumhe bas polished version dena hai. Log relatable confession chahte hain. Give them that. But in a controlled way.”

Controlled way.

Mujhe laga main khud apni life ka press release ban chuki hoon.

“Main abhi kuch post nahi karungi,” maine dheere se kaha.

Maya blink ki. “What?”

“Main kuch clarify nahi karungi.”

“Ritu, yeh risky hai.”

“Ab tak jo kiya, woh risky nahi tha?”

Woh ruk gayi.

Phone se DMs aur messages aate rahe. Brand manager. PR team. Do moms from audience. Ek old school friend. Sab ke messages mein alag tone, par same pressure—bol do, explain kar do, save kar do, reassure kar do.

Par mujhe first time lag raha tha ki audience ka pyaar bhi ek tarah ka demand hai.

Fan Didi ka message phir aaya: Tumhe relatable hone ke liye tootna nahi chahiye tha. Tum already enough ho. Bas sach bol do.

Sach.

Sameer ne balcony door ke paas khade khade kaha, “Maya, tumhe lagta hai log sach sunna nahi chahte?”

Maya ne thoda irritate hoke kaha, “Log truth chahte hain. Par neat truth. Not messy truth.”

Yuvan corner mein apni water bottle ghuma raha tha. Usne ek baar meri taraf dekha, phir dheere se poocha, “Mamma, kya maine galat bola?”

Uski awaaz mein darr nahi tha. Bas ek chhota sa confusion tha—ki jis sach ko usne bola, usne kisko tod diya.

Mera gala bhar aaya. “Nahi, baby. Tumne galat nahi bola.”

“Phir sab log sad kyun hain?”

Main kuch bol nahi paayi.

Kyuki sach sunna aur sach ke saath rehna do alag cheezein hoti hain.

Aur maine kaafi time tak sirf dikhana seekha tha, rehna nahi.

Behind The Ring Light

Raat ko jab Maya chali gayi, ghar mein ek ajeeb sa khaali pan reh gaya.

Living room ke corner mein ring light ka stand ab bhi khada tha. Jaise ek extra guest jo dinner ke baad bhi uth kar nahi gaya ho. Kitchen sink mein plates thi. Balcony se city ke horns ki faint awaaz aa rahi thi. Bedroom ke andar Yuvan so chuka tha, par uski sleep bhi aaj thodi restless lag rahi thi.

Sameer ne usko sulaya tha. Main darwaze ke paas khadi thi, andar jaane ki himmat nahi kar pa rahi thi. Jaise bedroom bhi ab ek jagah nahi, ek verdict ho.

Finally Sameer khud bahar aaya. Usne door band kiya aur mere saamne ruk gaya.

“Ab baat karni hai?” usne poocha.

Maine haan mein sir hila diya.

Woh couch ke saamne khada hua. Arms folded. Thodi der tak bas mujhe dekhta raha.

“Pehle tum bolo,” usne kaha.

Mainne hansi jaisi ek saans nikali. “Main kya bolun?”

“Jo sach hai.”

Woh phir wahi word.

Sach.

Mainne floor ke pattern ko dekhte hue kaha, “Mujhe lagta tha agar sab perfect dikhega toh sab safe rahega.”

Sameer ne ek halki si thandi hansi di. “Safe?”

“Ha. Hum. Ghar. Yuvan. Sab.”

“Ritu,” usne dheere se kaha, “perfect dikhne se safe nahi hota. Bas thakaan achchi tarah chhup jaati hai.”

Mainne uski taraf dekha.

Usne continue kiya, “Aur thakaan chhupi rahe toh log sochte hain sab manageable hai. Phir koi help nahi karta. Phir koi poochta bhi nahi. Bas aur push karta rehta hai.”

Uski awaaz mein gussa kam tha. Bohot der se daba hua dukh zyada.

Maine poocha, “Tumne kabhi directly bola kyun nahi?”

“Bola tha.”

“Mainne suna nahi.”

Woh point karne jaisa kuch nahi bola. Bas sar hila diya. “Haan. Kyunki jab bhi main bolta tha, tumhare face pe woh expression aa jaata tha—jaise main tumhara work samajh nahi raha. Jaise main support nahi kar raha. Phir main chup ho jaata tha.”

Mujhe laga mera chest andar se kisi ne press kar diya hai.

“Main sochti thi...” maine ruk kar kaha. “Main sochti thi tumhe bas thoda structure chahiye. Ek stable routine. Ek neat home. Main woh de rahi thi.”

Sameer ne seedha meri aankhon mein dekha. “Home aur routine same cheez nahi hote.”

Mujhe woh sentence andar tak laga.

Home aur routine same cheez nahi hote.

Maine kabhi ghar ko ghar ki tarah nahi, management project ki tarah dekha. Kaun sa shot achha lagega. Kaun sa background clean hai. Kaun sa corner messy hai. Kaun sa emotional beat audience ko resonate karega.

Par Yuvan ki questions? Sameer ki silence? Mera own fatigue? Yeh sab props nahi the. Yeh sab log the.

“Main thak gayi thi,” maine finally bola. “Har cheez ke liye. Har smile ke liye. Har post ke liye. Har weekend ke shoot ke liye. Mujhe laga agar main sab sambhal lungi toh sab khush rahenge.”

Sameer ne sar jhuka liya. “Main bhi thak gaya hoon.”

Bas.

Do words.

Mujhe laga ye do words fight se zyada painful kyun lag rahe hain? Kyunki inmein blame nahi tha. Sirf truth tha. Aur truth ka weight alag hota hai.

Maine dheere se poocha, “Main tumhe invisible kar rahi thi?”

Usne kuch second socha. Phir bola, “Haan. But only sometimes. Baaki time main khud bhi invisible ho gaya tha. Kyunki mujhe lagta tha tumhe sab manage karna hai. Main bas support character hoon.”

Maine aankhen band kar li. “Main tumhe content mein husband bana rahi thi.”

Woh line bolte waqt mujhe khud se ghin aayi.

Sameer ne thoda sa head tilt kiya. “Aur main khud ko allow kar raha tha.”

Room mein silence phail gaya.

Phir usne poocha, “Kab last time tumne Yuvan ke saath bina phone ke baithkar baat ki?”

Main chup.

“Ya khud ko bina audience ke dekha?” usne continue kiya. “Kab last time tumne kuch banaya jo post nahi hua?”

Mere paas jawab nahi tha. Sirf woh ajeeb sa shame jo aadmi ko suddenly chhota aur transparent kar deti hai.

“Main sochti thi,” maine very low voice mein kaha, “ki perfect dikhne se hi logon ko lagta hai main capable hoon.”

Sameer ki awaaz soft ho gayi. “Capable aur available mein fark hota hai, Ritu.”

Woh line seedha jaakar kahin andar lag gayi.

Available.

Main capable thi. Par available nahi thi. Ghar ke liye nahi. Sameer ke liye nahi. Yuvan ke liye bhi nahi. Khud ke liye toh bilkul nahi.

Sameer ne thoda sa aage aakar kaha, “Main tumse naraaz hoon. Hoon. Par main yeh bhi jaanta hoon ki tum akeli nahi kar rahi thi. Hum dono ek hi machine mein fass gaye the.”

Maine uski taraf dekha. “Machine?”

“Ha. Tum content chalati rahi. Main silence chalata raha. Dono ne milkar ghar ko set bana diya.”

Uska tone bitter nahi tha. बस थका hua tha.

Maine first time usse haath badhakar touch karna chaha, phir ruk gayi. Jaise ab affection bhi permission maang raha ho.

“Sameer,” maine kaha, “mujhe lagta tha agar main sach bolungi toh sab toot jayega.”

“Jo tootna tha, woh pehle se crack mein tha,” usne kaha.

Woh sentence meri saans mein atak gaya.

Maine ring light ki taraf dekha. White circle floor pe padi thi. Itni bright, itni artificial. Aur uske bahar jo shadows the, woh zyada real lag rahe the.

Mujhe pehli baar samajh aaya—ghar stage nahi hota. Ghar mein rehearsal nahi hoti. Wahan jo nahi bola, woh bhi rehta hai. Jo chupaya, woh bhi.

Maine dheere se poocha, “Ab kya karna hai?”

Sameer ne thodi der mujhe dekha. “Pehle phone neeche.”

Phir usne ek breath ke baad kaha, “Aur phir shayad bina perform kiye baat.”

No More Perfect

Subah ki light phir se aayi thi.

Par is baar maine curtains isliye khole the kyunki room ko roshni chahiye thi, content ko nahi.

Yuvan dining table pe baitha, cereal bowl ke saath. Sameer coffee bana raha tha. Main phone haath mein liye khadi thi. Tripod corner mein tha, par aaj use karne ka irada nahi tha.

Maya ke teen missed calls the. Ek voice note bhi. “Ritu, please call me. We can still salvage this. Don’t post anything impulsive.”

Mainne voice note delete nahi kiya. Bas mute kar diya.

Yuvan ne spoon chalate hue poocha, “Aaj photo nahi?”

Mainne uski taraf dekha. “Nahi baby. Aaj bas baat.”

“Camera ke bina?”

“Ha.”

Woh thoda soch kar bola, “Okay. But then aap smile kaise karogi?”

Main uske paas gayi. “Real wali smile se.”

Usne eyebrow raise ki, same Sameer jaisa. “Real wali aur fake wali mein fark kya hota hai?”

Sameer ne cup counter pe rakhte hue kaha, “Fake wali thak jaati hai.”

Yuvan ne “oh” kaha, jaise yeh ek important household rule ho.

Maine phone camera on kiya.

Sameer ne mujhe dekha. “Aaj phir?”

“Ha,” maine kaha. “Par live nahi. Ek video.”

Yuvan ne curiosity se poocha, “For who?”

“Sabke liye,” maine bola, phir ruk kar added, “Nahi. Pehle apne liye.”

Record button dabaya.

Mainne camera mein dekha. Apna face. Thoda tired. Thoda unmade. Thoda honest.

“Hi,” maine kaha. “Main Ritu hoon.”

Meri awaaz pehli line pe hi halki si crack hui. Mainne saans li.

“Kal jo hua, uske baad mujhe laga mujhe bas explain karna hai. Par sach yeh hai ki main explain kam, cover zyada kar rahi thi. Main ek mother hoon. Ek wife hoon. Aur ek creator bhi. Aur kaafi time se main in sab ko aise manage kar rahi thi jaise agar sab kuch perfect dikhega toh sab theek ho jayega.”

Main ek second ke liye ruki. Sameer kuch nahi bola. Sirf dekhta raha.

“Par ghar perfect nahi hota,” maine continue kiya. “Main bhi nahi. Aur shayad main perfect dikhne ki aadat mein itni phans gayi thi ki main apne ghar ko bhi ek set ki tarah treat karne lagi thi. Jo cheez stage pe achchi lage, wahi post karni hai. Jo cheez messy ho, usse hide karna hai. Jo thakan ho, usse smile ke neeche dabana hai.”

Meri aankhon mein paani aa gaya, par mainne roka nahi.

“Yuvan ne jo bola, woh sach tha. Hum thak gaye the. Hum ab bhi thake hue hain. Aur main yeh nahi keh rahi ki sab ek post se theek ho jayega. Nahi. Par main yeh keh rahi hoon ki ab main perfect family narrative continue nahi karungi.”

Yuvan spoon rok kar mujhe dekh raha tha.

“Main ab apne ghar ko content ke hisaab se nahi chalana chahti,” maine kaha. “Main camera se pehle apne bacche ko sunna chahti hoon. Apne husband ko dekhna chahti hoon. Aur khud ko bhi, bina filter ke.”

Mera gala bhar aaya. “Mujhe nahi pata log isse kaise lega. Shayad kuch log samjhenge. Shayad kuch judge karenge. Par mujhe ab aur fake nahi rehna.”

Sameer ne halki si saans li, jaise pehli baar room mein oxygen aa rahi ho.

“Main apology nahi de rahi,” maine camera mein dekhte hue bola. “Main bas sach bol rahi hoon. Aur shayad pehla step yahi hai—ki ab mujhe relatable banne ke liye life ko perform nahi karna.”

Maine video stop kiya.

Room mein silence tha.

Par yeh wali chup pehle wali se alag thi. Ismein ghabrahat kam, relief zyada tha. Dar tha, haan. Par uske neeche ek chhoti si zinda jagah bhi thi.

Phone pe comments aane lage. Notifications ka flood.

Mainne pehle unhe nahi khola.

Yuvan ne meri taraf dekhte hue poocha, “Mamma, aap ab kam smile karogi?”

Maine uske baal gently theek kiye. “Nahi baby. Bas fake smile kam karungi.”

Woh soch mein pad gaya. “Okay. Real wali thodi better hoti hai.”

Sameer ne coffee ka cup uthaya aur pehli baar us subah seedha meri taraf dekha. “School main drop kar deta hoon.”

Maine usse dekha. “Sach?”

“Ha.”

Yuvan ne turant chair se khade hote hue kaha, “Aur shaam ko ice cream?”

Sameer ne thoda sa smile kiya. “Shaam ko dekhte hain.”

Mainne woh smile dekhi. Chhoti thi. Thaki hui. Par real thi.

Phone phir vibrate hua. Fan Didi ka message tha.

Beta, pehli baar tumne content nahi, himmat dikhayi hai. Ab bas isse continue karna. Apni life ko apna kaam mat banao.

Mainne message ko do baar padha.

Phir phone ko table pe ulta rakh diya.

Bahar Bangalore ki subah utni hi soft thi. White curtains ke through aati light utni hi achchi lag rahi thi.

Par aaj mujhe us light ko capture nahi karna tha.

Bas uske andar rehna tha.

Khatam