Shaadi Consultant: Zindagi Ke Rung: Ek Emotional Hinglish Kahani

DOLLY

Main Delhi mein shaadiyan plan karti hoon.

Dusron ki.

Apni life ka jo bhi tha, woh kaafi pehle kisi corner mein fold karke rakh diya gaya tha—jaise hotel ka extra bedsheet, jo “kabhi kaam aa jayega” ke naam pe cupboard mein pada rahe. Mere din venues, calls, tastings, mood boards, aur un logon se bhare hote the jo apni shaadi ko ya toh kingdom samajhte the ya battlefield.

South Extension ki purani building mein humara office tha. Neeche tailor, upar CA, aur beech mein Dolly Weds & More. Naam aisa jaise kisi ne meri zindagi ko pehle hi shaadi ke envelope mein chipka diya ho.

Subah desk pe floral samples phailay hue the. Venue brochures. Seating charts. Pasta tasting notes. Ek half-drunk chai ka cup jis par lipstick ka nishaan tha—mera nahi, Golu ka.

Golu mera assistant tha. 22 ka, patla, hamesha thoda ghabraya hua, par uski timing aisi thi ki main chahe kitni bhi thaki hoon, uski baat pe react kiye bina reh hi nahi sakti thi.

“Didi,” usne file slide ki, “Mrs. Kapoor ka call teen baar aa chuka hai. Unhone bola agar aapne uthaya nahi toh woh khud aakar aapko correct karengi.”

Maine eyebrow uthayi. “Correct?”

“Unka exact tone tha, ‘Main logon ko correct karti hoon.’”

Maine aankhen band ki. “Speaker pe laga.”

Golu ne phone connect kiya. Next second, Mrs. Kapoor ki voice room mein aise phaili jaise expensive perfume aur warning ka combo ho.

“Dolly. Finally.”

Main chair seedhi karke baithi. “Good morning, ma’am.”

“Morning?” Unhone halki si hansi di, bina khushi ke. “Tumne jo stage design bheja hai, uske baad good morning bolne ka mann bhi nahi karta.”

Main pen uthakar notes banane lagi. “Aapko kaun sa part issue laga?”

“Kaun sa part? The whole thing. The entrance arch is too soft. The lighting is flat. And why is the couple’s table facing the buffet? Kya woh log khaana dekhne aaye hain?”

Golu ki aankhen meri taraf gayin—jaise bol rahi ho, shuru ho gaya.

“Ma’am, dining sightline ke hisaab se—”

“Sightline mujhe mat samjhao, Dolly. Main last twenty years se events attend kar rahi hoon. Mujhe pata hai kaun si cheez cheap lagti hai aur kaun si nahi.”

Uski voice sharp thi, par random nahi. Woh cheezein notice karti thi. Main usse ignore nahi kar sakti thi.

“Okay,” main boli. “Aap mujhe exact concerns bhej dijiye. Main revised options bana deti hoon.”

“Options mujhe kal tak chahiye the.”

“Main aaj bhej dungi.”

“Good. Aur Dolly—” ek chhota sa pause. “Main apology nahi chahti. Main better work chahti hoon.”

Call cut.

Room mein silence.

Golu ne saans chhodi. “Woh ‘better work’ bolke aise sunati hain jaise court order ho.”

Maine file band ki. “Unhone jo bola, galat bhi nahi tha.”

“Didi, unka tone bilkul galat tha.”

Maine uski taraf dekha. “Tone se wedding nahi banti. Delivery banti hai.”

“Yehi toh aapka problem hai,” usne bina soche bol diya. Phir uska chehra seedha ho gaya. “Matlab—sorry.”

“Bol diya toh rehne de.”

Mera phone vibrate hua. Arjun ka missed call. Phir maa ka. Phir Arjun ka message: “Call back.”

Main screen ko dekh kar ruki.

Arjun decent tha. Civil engineer, clean nails, soft voice, aur woh aadmi jo pehle permission maangta tha phir haath badhata tha. Woh mujhe samajhne ki koshish karta tha. Aur kabhi kabhi mujhe lagta tha understanding bhi ek pressure hota hai—kyunki samajh jaane ke baad insaan aur bhi dekhna chahta hai.

Hum engaged the. Six months ho chuke the. Ring mere dressing table drawer mein padi thi. Office mein pehenti nahi thi—clients notice kar lenge. Ghar mein pehenti nahi thi—maa ko aur ideas aa jayenge.

Maa ke ideas ke alag hi wings the.

Golu ne softly kaha, “Didi, khana kha lo.”

“Baad mein.”

“Kal bhi baad mein tha.”

Maine uski taraf dekha. “Tu aaj bahut bol raha hai.”

“Kyuki aap kam bol rahi ho.”

Main kuch nahi boli. Mrs. Kapoor ka WhatsApp agaya: “Need revised seating by 5. Also call me.”

Main screen lock karke chair mein peeche lean ho gayi.

Mera din dusron ke demands se bhara hota tha. Aur main un demands ko arrange karte karte apni saans ka rhythm bhool jaati thi.

KAPOOR

Mrs. Kapoor ka ghar Defence Colony mein tha—white bungalow, trimmed hedges, do security guards, aur andar woh kind of silence jo mehngi cheezon se banti hai, pyaar se nahi.

Security ne mujhe pehchan liya aur aise expression diya jaise main kisi routine nuisance ka hissa hoon.

Drawing room mein Mrs. Kapoor sofa ke edge par baithi thi, silk suit, diamond studs, aur aisa posture jaise woh office meeting mein nahi, inspection mein ho.

Rhea side wale sofa pe thi. Pretty, tired, aur phone ko aise pakde hue jaise usmein air pocket ho.

Mrs. Kapoor ne mujhe dekha. “You’re late.”

Main watch dekh kar boli, “Ma’am, main time se pahunchi hoon.”

“Late in the wrong way.”

Rhea ne ek second ke liye nazar utha kar mujhe dekha. Uski aankhon mein apology nahi, bas thakan thi.

Main file kholti hui boli, “Aaj main revised entrance options, seating flow aur stage backdrop ke alternatives laayi hoon.”

Mrs. Kapoor ne ek sip liya apni green tea ka. “Good. Because the current arch looks like it belongs to a school annual day.”

Rhea ne bina dekhe murmur kiya, “Maa, engagement hai. Embassy reception nahi.”

Mrs. Kapoor ne uski taraf aankh tak nahi ghumayi. “For you maybe. For this family, it is not small.”

Main notes mein keywords likh rahi thi. Mrs. Kapoor ke saath kaam karte hue main yeh samajh chuki thi ki woh bas nagging nahi karti—woh har cheez ka map dimaag mein rakhti thi. Kaun kis angle se dekh raha hai, kis relative ka kya ego hai, kaun kis cheez par offend hoga. Woh event ko logon se zyada seriously leti thi.

Problem yeh thi ki us seriousness mein kabhi kabhi insaan gum ho jaate the.

“Entrance pe marigold ko replace karke white orchids aur tuberose ka mix kar sakte hain,” main boli. “Less heavy, more structured.”

Mrs. Kapoor ne file se nazar uthayi. “Orchids are overused.”

“Then garden roses?”

“Too common.”

Main pen ko ek baar table pe tap kar ke roki. “Ma’am, aapko warmth bhi chahiye aur control bhi. Dono ek saath—”

“Dolly,” usne mujhe beech mein roka. “I don’t need a lecture on compromise. I need taste.”

Room mein halka sa tension ka crack aaya. Rhea ne pair cross karke phone side mein rakh diya.

Main calmly boli, “Aapko revised options kal shaam tak bhej deti hoon. Teen versions. One conservative, one balanced, one high impact.”

Mrs. Kapoor ne mujhe dekhte hue kaha, “That’s better.”

Phir unhone table pe padhi hard-copy list uthayi. “And this seating arrangement. The groom’s aunt can’t be put beside the cousin from Chandigarh. There was an issue at Diwali last year.”

Main ne pen rukaya. “What issue?”

Mrs. Kapoor ne seedha jawab diya. “He asked for money in front of everyone.”

Silence.

Rhea ki hansi ek sec ke liye nikal kar ruk gayi. Mrs. Kapoor ne uski taraf dekha.

“Kya?”

“Nothing,” Rhea said, but uske mouth pe jo line bani thi, woh bol rahi thi ki kuch bahut purana, bahut ugly hai, aur us family ne usse manage karna seekh liya hai, solve nahi.

Mrs. Kapoor ne phir mujhse kaha, “Dolly, I chose you because your work is neat. Don’t make me revise that opinion.”

“Of course.”

“Good. Because I don’t have time for people who crumble when pressure increases.”

Rhea finally bol padi, “Maa, pressure toh aap hi ho.”

The room froze.

Mrs. Kapoor ne ek second mein bas usko dekha. “Excuse me?”

Rhea ke shoulders straight ho gaye. “You heard me.”

Main files ke upar jhuki rahi, par hawa badal chuki thi. Yeh unke beech ka roz ka pattern nahi tha. Is baar kuch zyada personal tha.

Mrs. Kapoor ki voice narm nahi hui. “If you’ve come to discuss your attitude, we can postpone the wedding.”

“Perfect,” Rhea said, aur uss single word mein bachpan, gussa, aur thakaan sab tha.

Mrs. Kapoor ne usse kuch aur nahi kaha. Bas mujhe dekha. “Send the options by tonight.”

No apology. No extra line. Just business.

Maine nod kiya. “Haan, ma’am.”

Rhea ne ek chhota sa glance diya, jaise keh rahi ho: careful.

Bahaar nikal kar Delhi ki garmi ne face pe slap maara. Golu meri taraf jhuka. “Unke ghar mein sab tone pe rehte hain kya?”

“Apparently.”

“Didi, woh aunty dangerous hain.”

Maine shoulder bag adjust ki. “Haan.”

“Bas ‘haan’?”

“Dangerous log loud nahi hote.”

Golu ne kuch bolne ke liye munh khola, phir band kar liya. Usne mujhe pehli baar bina joke ke dekha.

Phone phir vibrate hua. Arjun.

Main ne uthaya. “Haan.”

“Tum call kyun nahi karti?”

Meri gaadi ka driver horn baja raha tha. Mere haath mein files thi. Mrs. Kapoor ke notes. Maa ka missed call. Arjun ka repeated insistence.

“Busy thi,” maine kaha.

“Busy ho ya mujhe avoid kar rahi ho?”

Mujhe uska tone pasand nahi aaya. “Arjun, abhi nahi.”

“Abhi kab?”

“Later.”

“Dolly—”

Maine call cut kar diya.

Golu ne side se dekha. “That was rude.”

“Was it?”

“Thoda.”

“Thoda enough hai.”

Usne kuch aur nahi kaha. Bas apni file ko hug kar liya, jaise woh khud bhi samajh raha ho ki aaj maine kis mood mein duniya ko chhoda hai.

KAPOOR

Mrs. Kapoor ke ghar ka next visit shaadi se pehle ka sabse lamba din nikla.

Is baar hall mein relatives bhi the. Kuch aunties, do uncles, ek cousin jo har baat pe “interesting” bolta tha, aur ek pandit ji jo corner mein baithkar aise dekh rahe the jaise sab kuch already karti hui aurat hi sambhalegi.

Rhea ne mujhe gate pe hi call kiya tha. “Aaj mat bolna maa ko ki main late hoon.”

“Main kyun bolungi?”

“Because she’ll ask.”

“Main receptionist hoon kya?”

“Wohi toh.”

Main hall mein pahunchi toh Mrs. Kapoor dining table ke paas khadi thi, ek guest list printout ko do baar fold karke khol rahi thi. Rhea sofa ke arm pe baithi thi, ek gold bangles ki stack ko ungli mein ghumate hue.

Mrs. Kapoor ne mujhe dekhte hi kaha, “Finally. Come.”

Main seedha table ke paas gayi. “Ma’am, revised seating yeh hai. Mainne side tables ko gender aur family tension ke hisaab se split kiya hai. Aur entrance arch—”

“Later.”

Rhea ne aankh uthayi. “Maa, aapne do baar already seating change kar di.”

“Because people are refusing to behave.”

“People or family?”

Mrs. Kapoor ne uski taraf ek look maara. “Same thing.”

Main papers set kar rahi thi ki drawing room se ek aurat ki awaaz aayi—high-pitched, offended, familiar with entitlement. “Kapoor ji, yeh kya hai? Humko corner table?”

Mrs. Kapoor ne bina mudhe kaha, “Aapko corner table nahi, aapko corner pe baithne ki aadat hai.”

Main ne nazar utha kar dekha. Un aunties mein se ek thi—groom side ki, heavy earrings, red lipstick, aur aisa expression jaise koi uske upar personal debt ho.

Woh table ke paas aakar khadi ho gayi. “Main keh rahi hoon, mera bhai front table pe kyun nahi?”

Mrs. Kapoor ne calmly jawab diya, “Kyuki aapka bhai front table pe baithke bhi pichhe ki baat karta hai.”

Rhea ke lips twitch hue. Main ne pretend kiya ki mujhe kuch sunai nahi diya.

Auntie ki aankhen narrow ho gayin. “Itni izzat se baat kar rahi ho, Kapoor ji?”

“Main izzat se hi baat kar rahi hoon,” Mrs. Kapoor ne kaha. “Agar aur zyada izzat chahiye toh pehle dekh ke aaiye ki aapne kis din kis ghar ka paisa kis se liya tha.”

Room ekdum silent.

Main ne head lift kiya. Rhea ne meri taraf dekha—jaise keh rahi ho, ab aayega.

Auntie ka face badal gaya. “Kya?”

Mrs. Kapoor ne side se ek envelope nikala. “Aapke bhai ki handwriting pahchanti hoon. Diwali ke baad aaya tha. Wohi letter jis mein likha tha, ‘Aunty ji, iss baar adjust kar dijiye, logon ke saamne baat mat nikaliye.’”

Auntie ka rang utar gaya.

“Woh loan tha,” woh boli, lekin awaaz pehle jaisi nahi rahi. “Family matter tha.”

“Family matter tab hota hai jab ghar ke andar rahe,” Mrs. Kapoor ne kaha. “Mehmaan ke beech nahi.”

Ek uncle side se khansne lage. Pandit ji ne ek second ke liye maala ghumana band kar diya.

Rhea ne dheere se kaha, “Maa, bas.”

Mrs. Kapoor ne use dekha. “Nahi. Aaj nahi.”

Auntie ne seedha Rhea ki taraf point kiya. “Yeh sab aapki beti ke liye kar rahi ho? Woh bhi toh ghar jaa rahi hai. Usko bhi toh samajh aayega kabhi.”

Rhea ka face tight ho gaya.

Mrs. Kapoor ne us auntie ki taraf ek step badhaya. “Meri beti ko samajh aap mat sikhaiye. Usne kam se kam apni shaadi ki date ke liye mujhe third party nahi banaya.”

Iss baar Rhea ne sach mein hansi jaisi ek saans chhodi. Par uski aankhon mein kuch aur tha—gusse se zyada, shayad hairani ki maa ne itna seedha bol diya.

Auntie ne ek baar room mein sabko dekha. Har koi dekh raha tha. Koi bol nahi raha tha. Mrs. Kapoor ne wahi moment use kiya aur seating chart table pe phaila diya.

“Table 7 yahan. Table 8 yahan. If you have any problems, discuss them with your own conscience.”

Auntie ne kuch aur bolne ke liye munh khola, phir band kar liya. Woh palat ke chali gayi, bangles khadkhadate hue.

Jab room mein phir se saans chali, tab mujhe realise hua ki meri notes mein ek bhi line nahi likhi gayi thi.

Rhea ne dheere se kaha, “Maa, you could’ve just moved them.”

Mrs. Kapoor ne uski taraf dekha. “Aur phir kal ko koi aur aata. Phir koi aur. Phir sab. Mujhe isi din ke liye paisa nahi milta Dolly ko.”

Main ne uski taraf dekha. Usne meri taraf dekhte hue apni glasses adjust ki.

“Dolly, stage ke flowers kya hue?”

Main jhat se wapas kaam mein aa gayi. “White orchids aur tuberose ka mix final rakh rahi hoon. But I think arch pe thoda structure aur chahiye.”

Mrs. Kapoor ne nod kiya. “Good. And the lighting?”

“Warm, but not yellow.”

“Good.”

Rhea ne apni phone screen on ki. “Maa, can I talk to you for two minutes?”

Mrs. Kapoor ne uski taraf dekha. “Abhi?”

“Abhi.”

Rhea ne mujhe dekh kar kaha, “Dolly, can you check the entry cards?”

Main ne samajh liya. “Haan.”

Main pantry ki taraf nikal gayi, par hall se unki awaazen aati rahi.

“Tu aise sab ke saamne kyun bol rahi thi?” Rhea.

“Kyuki koi aur bolta nahi.” Mrs. Kapoor.

“Main bol rahi thi na.”

“Tum bolti ho, par uthati nahi.”

“Sab uthana aapka kaam hai kya?”

“Jab tak tum kar nahi leti, haan.”

Phir thoda sa silence.

Rhea ki awaaz lower ho gayi. “Maa, mujhe lagta hai aapko har kisi pe gussa aata hai.”

Mrs. Kapoor ka jawab slow tha. “Aur mujhe lagta hai tumhe har kisi se maafi chahiye.”

Main pantry ke counter pe khadi rahi, entry cards haath mein, aur bas itna suna: Rhea ki saans ka break. Phir Mrs. Kapoor ne aur kuch nahi kaha.

Baad mein jab main wapas gayi, toh Mrs. Kapoor table pe jhuki hui thi, apna pen cap laga rahi thi. Rhea window ke paas khadi thi, phone in hand, aankh bahar.

Mrs. Kapoor ne mujhe dekh ke bola, “Dolly, final map bhej do. Aur woh cousin—”

“Chandigarh wala?”

“Haan. Uska naam Rajeev hai.”

Mere haath ka pen ruk gaya.

Rhea ne window se mudkar dekha. Mrs. Kapoor ne bina expression ke kaha, “Yesterday mainne galat likh diya tha. Ab sahi kar do.”

Itna kahkar woh chair pe baith gayi, jaise ek chhota sa correction bhi usse energy kharch karwa chuka ho.

Mujhe pehli baar samajh aaya ki woh woman jo har cheez ko control karti dikhti hai, uske paas bhi galti ko seedha maan lene ka ek alag tarika tha. Maafi ka nahi. Correction ka.

Aur shayad uske liye wahi kaafi tha.

ARJUN

Arjun ka number do din se screen pe aa raha tha.

Main uthati nahi thi. Yeh bhi nahi ki usse baat karne ka mann nahi tha. Bas har call ke baad mujhe lagta tha jaise main ek aur room mein ja rahi hoon jahan pehle se hi expectations light on hain.

Shaadi ke kaagaz, venue, guest list, vendor payments—sab set the. Bas hum dono ke beech ki jo cheez set honi chahiye thi, woh paper pe fit nahi ho rahi thi.

Arjun ka message aaya: “Can we meet for ten minutes?”

Maine reply kiya: “Office ke baad.”

Uska response: “Okay.”

Office ke baad Golu ne mera bag uthaya. “Didi, aaj aapko Arjun bhai se milna hai?”

“Haan.”

“Sach mein?”

“Sach mein.”

“Fight hogi?”

Maine uski taraf dekha. “Tu itna khush kyun ho raha hai?”

“Kyuki aap jab chup hoti ho toh mujhe aur darr lagta hai.”

Maine uske haath se bag le liya. “Ja, print karwa final maps.”

“Main already karwa chuka hoon.”

“Good.”

“Didi,” usne softly bola, “aap theek ho na?”

Maine uski taraf dekha. Uske chehre pe mazaak nahi tha. Main ne bas nod kiya. “Haan.”

“Uska matlab?”

“Matlab haan.”

Usne kuch aur nahi poocha.

Arjun office ke neeche café mein tha. Simple table, bad coffee, aur uske saamne ek glass water jo usne shayad abhi tak touch nahi kiya tha. Mujhe dekhte hi woh khada ho gaya.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Hum baith gaye. Beech mein do cups, ek sugar jar, aur ek silence jo dono ne pehle notice kiya.

Arjun ne pehle bola, “Main fight karne nahi aaya.”

“Main bhi nahi.”

Woh thoda sa hansa. “Tum office ke baad bhi aise hi lag rahi ho jaise kisi ne tumse kuch chheen liya ho.”

Maine uski taraf dekha. “Aur tum aise lag rahe ho jaise mujhe samjhaane ke liye already line tayyar karke aaye ho.”

Usne nazar neeche ki. “Maybe.”

Maine cup ka handle pakda. “Bolo.”

Arjun ne ek saans li. “Main kal se soch raha hoon. Humari date final kar dete hain. Venue bhi. Tum bas haan bol do.”

Maine ek second usko dekha. “Aur agar main haan na bolun toh?”

“Phir? Phir bhi toh karna hai.”

“Yehi problem hai.”

“Kaunsi?”

“Tum ‘karna hai’ se start karte ho. Main ‘chahti hoon’ se.”

Arjun ki aankh mein ek chhota sa flash aaya. “Toh chaaho na.”

Mere haath ka grip cup pe tight hua. “Main chahti hoon ki koi mujhse poochhe ki main kaisi hoon.”

“Main pooch raha hoon.”

“Ab pooch rahe ho.”

“Dolly—”

“Arjun, jab Mrs. Kapoor ke ghar mein main seating rearrange karti hoon, tab log mujhe event manager ke alawa kuch nahi samajhte. Jab ghar aati hoon, Maa mujhe beti samajh ke bhi schedule kar leti hai. Aur tum—” maine ruk kar uski taraf dekha. “Tum mujhe future samajh ke chal rahe ho.”

Arjun ne lips press kiye. “Main tumhe future nahi, partner samajh ke chal raha hoon.”

“Partner ka matlab bhi toh yeh nahi hota ki bas next step decide kar lo.”

Usne chair mein thoda sa adjust kiya. “Toh tum batao. Main sun raha hoon.”

Mujhe us waqt surprise hua. Kyunki yeh line usne gusse mein nahi boli thi. Thak ke boli thi. Jaise woh sach mein sunna chahta ho, par uske paas pehle se ek fixed picture ho aur woh usse todne ko taiyar na ho.

Maine dheere se kaha, “Mujhe time chahiye.”

“Kitna?”

“Pata nahi.”

“Tumne yeh pehle bhi bola tha.”

“Pata hai.”

“Phir bhi?”

Main ne uski aankhon mein dekha. “Kyuki pehle mujhe lagta tha main bas confused hoon. Ab lag raha hai main darr rahi hoon.”

Arjun chup hua.

“Kyoon?” usne baad mein poocha.

Maine seedha jawab nahi diya. “Kyuki jab sab kuch schedule mein fit ho jaata hai na, tab koi ek din poochta hai ki tum khush ho ya nahi.”

Usne kuch der mujhe dekha. Phir dheere se bola, “Aur tum?”

Main hans nahi paayi. “Main abhi us sawal ka answer dhoond rahi hoon.”

Arjun ne glass uthaya aur ek sip liya. “Main tumhe force nahi karna chahta.”

“Par?”

“Par main aur bhi late nahi reh sakta.”

Woh line simple thi. Ismein gussa nahi tha. Threat nahi tha. Bas ek boundary thi.

Mujhe usse yeh boundary samajh aayi. Aur shayad isliye dard hua.

Main ne bag ki strap pakdi. “Theek hai.”

Arjun ne meri taraf dekha. “Theek hai ka kya matlab?”

“Matlab main sun rahi hoon.”

“Bas?”

“Bas abhi ke liye.”

Usne ek lambi saans li. “Tum ghar jaake soch lo.”

“Main soch hi rahi hoon.”

“Dolly.”

“Arjun,” maine uski awaaz ko dheere se kaata. “Mujhe ek din ke liye bas mujhe rehne do.”

Woh kuch pal mujhe dekhta raha. Phir bola, “Call karna.”

Maine nod kiya.

Par us waqt mujhe pata tha main call nahi karungi.

MAA

Ghar ka dinner unusually silent tha.

Maa ne kuch shor nahi kiya. Na mera phone poocha, na Arjun ka. Bas roti sekti rahi, sabzi mein jeera tadka lagati rahi, aur kabhi kabhi khidki ke bahar dekh leti.

Maine usse dekha aur poocha, “Kya hua?”

“Nothing.”

“Us tone mein?”

Maa ne palat ke kaha, “Tum bhi toh wahi karti ho.”

Main chup ho gayi.

Usne plate mein aloo gobhi rakhi. Phir apni plate mein baith kar ek roti todhi. “Aaj tere papa ka achkan mila.”

Mere haath ruk gaye. “Kahan?”

“Almari ke neeche wale box mein.”

Woh box jis mein kabhi purane bills, medals, aur kuch photos rakhe the. Papa ke baad maa ne usse kabhi khola nahi tha. Main bhi nahi.

“Achkan?” maine poocha.

Maa ne bas haan mein head hila diya. “Uski sleeve pe woh blue thread ab bhi hai. Tailor ne kaha tha wapas silwa dena, par mainne nahi karwaya.”

Maine uski taraf dekha. “Kyun?”

Maa ne roti ka ek aur tukda toda. “Kyuki usne pehni hi ek shaadi mein thi. Tum chhoti thi. Tumne uske pocket mein haath daal ke candy nikali thi.”

Mujhe woh scene yaad nahi tha. Par maa ka bolna aisa tha jaise uske haath mein poora image ho.

“Us din usne daant nahi lagayi thi,” woh boli. “Bas bola tha, ‘yeh ladki meri jeb bhi khaali kar degi.’”

Usne halki si hansi dabayi. Phir achanak uski aankhen table pe tik gayin.

“Phir ek din,” usne bina meri taraf dekhe kaha, “hospital se aate waqt usne kaha tha gaadi thodi dheere chalana. Mujhe laga traffic ke liye bol raha hai. Par baad mein pata chala usko saans lete time dard ho raha tha.”

Mujhe kuch kehna tha, par nahi kaha.

Maa ne spoon plate ke kinare pe rakha. “Usne cigarette kam karne ka waada kiya tha. Do din baad phir shuru kar di.”

Yeh line usne bahut seedhe boli. Kisi explanation ke bina.

Main ne uski plate dekhi. “Aapne usse kuch bola?”

“Bola tha.” Maa ne seedha jawab diya. “Kitchen mein. Mainne cigarette packet sink mein daal diya tha. Usne dekha aur packet nikaal ke pocket mein rakh liya. Bas.”

“Phir?”

Maa ne shoulder uthaaya. “Phir main ne agle din uski shirt press nahi ki.”

Main uski taraf dekhti rahi.

“Usne notice kiya?” maine poocha.

“Do din baad.” Maa ne thoda sa smile kiya, bilkul patla. “Meeting ke liye nikalte waqt bola—‘yeh shirt mein crease kaisi?’ Mainne kaha, ‘Main bhi thak gayi thi.’”

Woh baat sunke mujhe kuch aur samajh aaya. Maa ka silence uski kamzori nahi tha. Kabhi kabhi woh uski strategy thi.

Phir usne roti plate mein rakh di. “Dolly, tu Arjun se kya chahti hai?”

Seedha sawaal.

Maine aankhen neeche kar li. “Pata nahi.”

“Pata nahi ya bol nahi pa rahi?”

Main ne kuch der baad kaha, “Main chahti hoon ki woh mujhe dekhte hue sirf wedding planner ya future wife na dekhe.”

Maa ne sar hilaaya, jaise yeh jawab usne pehle se suna ho. “Aur tu khud ko kya dekhti hai?”

Main ne uski taraf dekha. “Abhi toh nahi pata.”

Maa ne ek second mujhe dekha. Phir bina drama ke boli, “Toh pata kar.”

Bas itna.

Na lecture. Na “main toh pehle se bol rahi thi.” Na “maine kaha tha.” Bas ek chhota, seedha sentence.

Usne uth kar glass bhara. “Aur haan, wo ring jaisi cheez agar ungli mein dard de toh utar ke rakh dena. Har cheez ka fit hona zaroori nahi hota.”

Main ne uski taraf dekha.

Usne nazar nahi milayi. Bas sink ki taraf chal di.

DOLLY

Raat ko room mein aake main bed pe nahi baithi. Dressing table drawer khola. Ring wahi thi.

Maine usse uthaya. Cold metal. Bilkul same weight, par aaj uska feel alag tha. Jaise pehle woh ek promise thi, ab ek question ho gayi ho.

Phone vibrate hua. Arjun ka message: “Thanks for dinner. Call me tomorrow if you can.”

Maa ka message: “Back pain ho toh heating pad use karna.”

Mrs. Kapoor ka: “Need final seating by 11.”

Teen log. Teen alag tareeke se mujhe kheench rahe the. Aur is baar mujhe yeh sab normal nahi laga.

Main ne ring ko ungli mein pehna. Thoda loose thi. Arjun ne size guess kiya tha. Main ne kabhi correct nahi karaya. Shayad isliye kyunki fit hona bhi commitment lagta tha.

Maine phone uthaya, Mrs. Kapoor ka draft open kiya. Seating chart mein woh jagah dhundhi jahan Chandigarh cousin aur aunt ko ek table par nahi bithana tha. Phir Golu ko message kiya: “Corrected map print karwa. One more set.”

Uska reply turant aaya: “On it. Aap ghar?”

Main ne type kiya: “Haan.”

Phir socha. Delete kiya. Dobara likha: “Abhi office aa rahi hoon.”

Maine bag uthaya. Room ki light off ki. Door lock kiya.

Kitchen se maa ki awaaz aayi, “Kahan?”

“Office.”

“Abhi?”

“Haan.”

Maa ne mujhe hallway mein pakad liya. Uske haath mein wahi tea towel tha. “Raat ko?”

“Kaam hai.”

Usne mujhe dekha. Phir bas ek second ke liye mere ring wale haath ko dekha. “Theek hai,” usne kaha. “Apni car le jao. Driver so gaya hoga.”

Main ne nod kiya.

Maa ne kuch aur nahi poocha. Bas utni der mere saath khadi rahi jab tak main shoes pehen kar bahar nahi nikal gayi.

Stairs ke paas Golu ka call aaya. “Didi, print ready hai. Par ek issue hai.”

“Ab kya?”

“Mrs. Kapoor ne message kiya hai. Bol rahi hain seating mein last-minute change chahiye. Groom side ka uncle aa gaya hai. Aur woh cousin ke saath baithne se mana kar raha hai.”

Mere haath tight ho gaye. “Reason?”

“Bol raha hai usne uska loan bhara tha aur ab usko respect nahi mil raha.”

Main ne aankh band ki. Delhi mein shaadi se zyada logon ko hisaab chukana hota hai.

“Main aa rahi hoon,” maine kaha.

“Didi,” Golu bola, “aapki awaaz theek nahi lag rahi.”

“Abhi theek ho jayegi.”

Main building se bahar nikli. Garmi phir se face pe lagi. Main ne cab rokne ke bajay road ke end tak khud chalna shuru kiya. Ring ungli mein thi. Phone haath mein. Aur andar ek ajeeb sa gussa—Mrs. Kapoor pe nahi, Arjun pe nahi, maa pe nahi. Khud pe. Isliye ki itne saalon mein pehli baar mujhe laga ki main kisi room mein bina apology ke enter karne wali hoon.

Main stairs ki taraf mud gayi.

Phir ruk gayi.

Mobile screen par Arjun ka naam chamak raha tha. Ek missed call. Phir ek aur.

Maine ring ko ungli se nikala. Uski thandak meri skin pe ek second aur ruki, phir main ne use bag ke inner pocket mein daal diya—drawer mein nahi, jahan main use chhupa ke rakh sakti thi. Nahi. Pocket mein, jahan se woh mujhe weight de, ya yaad dilaye.

Phir maine Arjun ka call uthaya.

“Dolly?” uski awaaz mein ab irritability kam thi, tension zyada.

“Sun rahi hoon.”

“Tum kahaan ho?”

“Office ke paas.”

“Abhi bhi?”

“Abhi bhi.”

Ek second ka pause. “Main aata hoon.”

“Mat aao.”

“Kyoon?”

Maine road ke saamne wali red light ko dekha. Signal pe khadi bikes, ek auto, ek woman jiske haath mein grocery bag tha, aur piche office building ki khidkiyaan.

“Kyuki aaj mujhe khud jana hai,” maine kaha.

Arjun chup raha.

Main ne saans li. “Main wedding postpone karna nahi chahti. Main bas dekhna chahti hoon ki main isko apni marzi se kar rahi hoon ya sabko khush karne ke liye.”

Uski awaaz dheere aayi. “Aur main?”

“Tum bhi dekh lo,” maine kaha. “Ki tum mujhe pakad rahe ho ya saath chal rahe ho.”

Woh jawab nahi de saka.

Maine call cut kiya.

Phir main stairs chadh gayi.

Khatam