Subah tak main soyi nahi.
Saat baje maine Mummy ke kamre ka darwaza dekha — band tha — aur bina bataye nikal gayi. Bahar dhoop tez thi aur sadak pe sabzi wale lag chuke the, aur mujhe ajeeb lag raha tha ki duniya itni normal hai.
Mobile shop das baje khulti hai. Main sawa nau se wahan khadi thi.
Rafiq bhai ne shutter uthaya aur mujhe dekh kar hairan ho gaye. “Itni subah? Sab theek?”
Maine number likha hua parcha unke aage rakh diya.
“Yeh number kiske naam pe hai abhi?”
Unhone parcha uthaya, padha, aur mujhe dekha. “Beta, yeh main kaise bata dun. Yeh company ka record hai.”
“Rafiq bhai, please.”
Kuch tha meri awaaz mein. Unhone parcha dobara dekha aur phir bina kuch kahe apne computer pe kuch type karne lage. Do minute. Teen minute. Fan upar ghoom raha tha aur main apne naakhun dekh rahi thi.
“Yeh number,” unhone dheere se kaha, “active hai.”
“Matlab kisi aur ko de diya gaya hai?”
Unhone sar hilaya. Na mein.
“Nahi. Recycle nahi hua. Yeh abhi bhi usi naam pe hai. Aur…” woh rukhe. “Iski recharge chal rahi hai. Har mahine. Time pe.”
Maine unki taraf dekha.
“Kaun karta hai recharge?”
“Online hota hai. Mujhe dikhta nahi kaun. Bas itna dikhta hai ki hota hai.” Unhone screen meri taraf ghumayi, jaise yeh sabit karna zaroori ho. “Pichla recharge — teen din pehle.”
Main bahar aayi toh dhoop aankhon mein lagi aur mujhe kuch der kuch dikha nahi.
Ek saal. Ek saal se koi har mahine mere behen ka number zinda rakh raha tha. Paise de kar. Jaan-boojh kar.
Maine phone nikala. Raat waali chat khuli hui thi, waisi ki waisi. Maine ek aur message type kiya.
“Tum kahan ho?”
Is baar jawab turant aaya, jaise koi phone haath mein liye baitha ho.
“Ghar pe.”
Maine likha: “Kiska ghar?”
Typing.
“Tera.”
Main sadak ke beech mein khadi thi aur ek scooter wale ne mujhe gaali di aur main hili bhi nahi.
Phir ek aur message aaya.
“Mummy se mat poochna. Please.”