Rajesh ki family choti thi. Woh, uski ek behen Neelu, aur Maa ji. Papa ji tab guzar gaye the jab Rajesh college mein tha.
Koi bhai nahi. Kabhi nahi.
Maine Neelu ko phone kiya. Woh Indore mein rehti hai.
“Bhabhi? Sab theek?”
“Neelu, ek baat poochni thi. Rajesh kisi ko Bhaiya bulata tha? Koi dost, koi cousin?”
Woh chup rahi.
“Neelu?”
“Kyun pooch rahi ho?”
Uski awaaz badal gayi thi. Bilkul wahi tarika jo Mummy ka tha jab maine unse Neha ke number ke baare mein poocha tha — main us waqt yeh compare nahi kar rahi thi, par baad mein mujhe laga ki log jab kuch chhupa rahe hote hain toh sab ek jaise sunayi dete hain.
“Uske phone mein ek number hai,” maine kaha. “Bhaiya ke naam se. Aur us number se…”
Main ruk gayi. Maine paise ke baare mein nahi bataya.
“…us number se message aaya hai.”
“Kya likha tha?”
“Aarav theek hai kya.”
Neelu ne lambi saans li.
“Bhabhi, aap ghar pe ho?”
“Haan.”
“Main kal aa rahi hun.”
“Neelu, batao na—”
“Phone pe nahi.” Uski awaaz kaanp rahi thi. “Bhabhi, please. Kal.”
Usne phone rakh diya.
Us raat main soyi nahi. Main Rajesh ke phone ke saath baithi rahi, uski gallery dekhti rahi, uski chats scroll karti rahi. Bhaiya waale number se koi chat nahi thi — sirf contact save tha, koi message nahi.
Lekin uske call log mein woh tha. Bahut baar.
Aakhri call us Tuesday ki subah, das bajkar chhabbis minute pe. Chaar minute ki.
Us din ke do ghante baad woh accident hua tha.