Main agle din dopahar ko wahan gayi.
Building wahi thi. Choti lagti thi, jaisa hamesha hota hai. Diwar pe wahi neela rang tha jo ab kaala pad chuka tha, aur neeche wahi teen scooter khade the jaise koi aath saal se nahi hila.
Watchman naya nahi tha.
“Arre,” usne mujhe dekh kar kaha, aur uthkar khada ho gaya. “Chhoti wali?”
Ramesh kaka. Unke baal ab safed the.
“Kaka, aap—”
“Main yahin hun. Kahan jaunga.” Woh hanse, phir hansi ruk gayi. “Beta, mujhe pata chala tha. Neha ke baare mein. Bahut bura hua.”
Maine sar hilaya, kyunki bolne ke liye kuch nahi tha.
“Kaka, ek baat poochni thi.”
“Pooch.”
“Is saal mein koi aaya tha yahan? Neha ke baare mein poochne?”
Kaka ka chehra badal gaya.
Woh apni chair pe wapas baithe aur kuch der sadak ki taraf dekhte rahe.
“Woh ladka aata hai,” unhone kaha.
“Kaunsa ladka?”
“Jo teesre floor pe rehta tha. Verma ji ka beta. Arjun.”
Mere andar kuch girr gaya.
Arjun. Woh ladka jo hamari class se do saal senior tha. Jo chhat pe patang udata tha aur Neha ko dekh kar hamesha dhaaga tod deta tha aur phir kehta tha hawa kharab hai.
“Woh yahan ab bhi rehta hai?”
“Nahi. Verma ji toh chaar saal pehle chale gaye. Par woh ladka aata hai.” Kaka ne mujhe dekha. “Mahine mein ek baar. Kabhi do baar. Upar jaata hai, chhat pe. Baith jata hai. Do ghanta. Phir chala jata hai.”
“Chhat pe?”
“Haan.” Kaka ki awaaz dheemi ho gayi. “Beta, main usko rokhta nahi. Kya rokun. Woh kisi ko tang nahi karta. Bas baitha rehta hai.”
Main bahut der kuch nahi boli.
“Kaka, woh kab aata hai?”
“Fix nahi hai.” Phir woh ruke. “Par hamesha raat ko. Der raat.”
Maine phone nikala aur woh chat kholi.
“Tum chhat pe baithe ho?” maine type kiya.
Bees second. Chalees second.
Phir:
“Tu aa gayi hai na. Neeche. Ramesh kaka se baat kar rahi hai.”
Mera sar apne aap upar utha.
Char manzil upar, chhat ki diwar ke peeche, ek aakriti khadi thi.