खिड़की

आँखें खुली तो सत्या ने खुद को बिस्तर पर पाया। पहले तो चौंक कर उठ बैठा, यहाँ वहाँ देखा, और जब नज़र टेबल पर पड़ी घड़ी पर गई तो ध्यान आया कि वह अपने ही घर में था। उस पर भी एक पल बाद होश आया कि समय शाम का था। शायद नींद गहरी थी। काफ़ी दिन हुए थे उसे इस तरह बेधड़क सोए। छुट्टियाँ अक्सर रोज़मर्रा के कामों में ही बीत जाती थीं और बचे-खुचे खाली समय में उसे किताबें पढ़ना ही भाता था। आम तौर पर तो वह दिन में सोया भी नहीं करता था पर इस बार बहुत दिनों के बाद एक लंबा सप्ताहांत मिला था। छुट्टी का दिन, भरी दोपहर, और राजमा-चावल। ना चाहते हुए भी महाशय नींद की आग़ोश में विलीन हो गए थे।   

फिलहाल शाम के पाँच बजे थे। आखिरकार एक लंबी अंगड़ाई लेकर उसने बिस्तर छोड़ा। इस शाम को बस अब अदरक की तासीर ही बेहतर बना सकती थी। दस मिनट बाद सत्या हाथ में चाय का प्याला लिए बैठक के पास वाली खिड़की पर बैठा था। चौथी मंज़िल की इस खिड़की पर बैठकर अक्सर वह आते जाते लोगों को देखता और उनकी दिनचर्या का संभावित मूल्यांकन करता। खुराफ़ात हो या रचना, तरोताज़ा दिमाग दोनों के प्रति कल्पनाशील होता है। आज भी मन कुछ ऐसा ही था। एक सरसरी निगाह से उसने अपने विकल्प टटोले। साइकिल लेकर खड़ा वह अंडे वाला, जो शायद आज की बिक्री का अनुमान लगा रहा था। उबलती चाय में कड़छी घुमाता वह चायवाला, जो अपने ग्राहकों की राह में यहाँ-वहाँ झाँक रहा था। उसी के बगल, एक कोने में धूम्रपान करता वह युवक जो किसी के इंतज़ार में बड़ी बेसब्री से बार-बार घड़ी देख रहा था। वह अधेड़-उम्र महिला, जो रिक्शा से उतर कर एक हाथ से अपने पर्स में पैसे टटोल रही थी और दूसरे से रफूचक्कर हो जाने को तैयार अपने नन्हे बालक का हाथ थामे हुए थी। या फिर वह मोटरसाइकिल चालक, जो आती जाती गाड़ियों के बीच से विपरीत दिशा में निकल जाने की कोशिश में था। जब भी सत्या इस खिड़की पर बैठता उसे कोई ना कोई दिलचस्प मिल ही जाता था। आज भी विकल्प तैयार थे, पर कुछ तय करने से पहले ही एक मद्धिम सी आवाज़ उसके कानों में आ पड़ी।

पलटकर देखा तो एक छोटी सी मैना उसके पास बैठी थी। बड़े शहरों के घरों में कबूतरों और कौवों का आवागमन आम बात है, पर एक मैना को यूँ अपने घर की खिड़की पर बैठे सत्या ने पहली बार देखा था। पीली चोंच, भूरा रंग, काला माथा, और पंखों के किनारे पतली सफ़ेद धारियाँ। उसके आवरण में ऐसा निखार था मानो किसी प्रवीण चित्रकार की नवजात रचना हो। पीली धारियों से घिरी उसकी काली आँखें किसी कथकली नृत्यांगना सी प्रतीत होती थीं। साधारण होते हुए भी उसकी काया इतनी मनोरम थी कि सत्या कुछ देर एकटक उसे देखता रहा। फिर उसने थोड़ा करीब से देखना चाहा, पर डर था कि कही वह उड़ न जाए। कुछ देर मैना के यूँही बैठे रहने से उसकी हिम्मत बढ़ी। हाथ बढ़ा कर उसने हलके से मैना के पंखों पर फेरा, लेकिन बजाय उड़ने के एक धीमी चहक के साथ वह एक कदम खिसक गई। थोड़ा रुक कर सत्या ने फिर कोशिश की। इस बार चहक थोड़ी तेज़ हुई पर मैना ने फिर भी कुछ ख़ास विरोध न किया। अब सत्या को शंका हुई। ध्यान से देखा तो पाया कि उसका एक पंख अपनी संरेखा से परे था। चोट दिखाई नहीं पड़ रही थी लेकिन प्रत्यक्ष रूप से मैना उड़ने में असमर्थ थी।

अचानक मैना खिड़की के एक कोने से दूसरे तक फुदकते हुए चहकने लगी। यह उड़ जाने की आतुरता के बजाय कुछ कहने की अधीरता ज़्यादा मालूम होती थी। लेकिन ना तो मैना के पास कहने को शब्द थे और ना सत्या के पास उसे समझने का कोई चारा। वह उठा और एक गत्ते का छोटा डिब्बा ले आया। उसमें एक तौलिया मोड़कर बिछाया, कुछ बिस्कुट के टुकड़े बिखेरे और खिड़की के अंदर की तरफ रख दिया। फिर धीरे से मैना को उठाकर डिब्बे में रख दिया। मैना चुप हो गई। शायद वह अचानक हुए इस बदलाव से स्तब्ध थी। कुछ कदम यहाँ वहाँ चलकर उसने डिब्बे का मुआयना किया और फिर एक कोने में आकर चुपचाप बैठ गई। थोड़ी देर में उठी, जैसे कुछ याद आया हो, और डिब्बे पर चढ़कर चहकने लगी। फिर उतरकर डिब्बे का चक्कर लगाया और वापिस अपनी जगह पर आकर बैठ गई। कुछ देर यूँ ही चलता रहा। वह कभी डिब्बे का चक्कर लगाती, कभी ऊपर चढ़ जाती, और फिर वापिस बैठ जाती। मानो अपनी आपबीती सुना रही हो। पर उसकी चहक में अब वो पहले जैसी बेचैनी नहीं थी। शायद सत्या की उपस्तिथि से उसे कुछ मनोबल मिला था। सत्या भी वहीं बैठा उसकी चहलकदमी देखता रहा। कुछ ही पलों में उसे उस नन्हे से पक्षी में आत्मीयता झलकने थी।

सप्ताह के अंत तक मैना सत्या से भली-भांति परिचित हो चुकी थी। अब वह मन-मर्ज़ी से यहाँ-वहाँ फुदकती रहती। घर का कोई कोना उसकी पहुँच से अछूता नहीं बचा था। उसकी हालात में भी थोड़ा सुधार था लेकिन अभी भी वह उड़ ना पाती थी। सत्या को भी अब उसकी आदत सी हो चली थी। सुबह उसी की चहक से उठता और शाम को भी अन्धेरा होने तक उसी के पास बैठा रहता। बस इसके बीच का वक़्त उसे थोड़ा भारी पड़ता था क्योंकि वह उसे ऑफिस में गुज़ारना पड़ता था। पर जितना उससे बनता वो अपना वक़्त मैना को ही देता।

आज शुक्रवार था। सत्या ऑफिस से जल्दी निकल गया था। रास्ते में रुक कर उसने कुछ नमकीन बिस्कुट ख़रीदे। मैना इन्हें बड़े चाव से खाती थी। आज शाम की चाय उसी के साथ बैठ के पीनी थी। अपने इस बचकाने ख़्याल से वह मन ही मन मुस्काया। उसकी पसंदीदा खिड़की अब उसे और भी प्रिय हो गई थी। गंभीर, जटिल, सहज, हैरान करने वाले और ना जाने कितने ही विविध व्यक्तित्वों का स्रोत थी यह खिड़की। लेकिन पहली बार इस खिड़की पर किसी अनुभव ने वास्तविकता का रूप धारण किया था। और आज वही वास्तविकता मैना के रूप में सत्या को एक आत्मिक शक्ति की अनुभूति दे रही थी। शायद वह भी उसकी राह देख रही हो। दरवाज़ा खुलते ही उसका शोर शुरू हो जाएगा। अगले दिन ऑफिस की छुट्टी होने के कारण वक़्त पर कोई पाबन्दी भी नहीं थी।

घर पहुँच कर उसने धीरे से दरवाज़ा खोला और सीधे खिड़की के पास गया। डिब्बे में बिस्कुट के कुछ टुकड़ों के सिवाय वहाँ कुछ नहीं था।

The Ride

Time seemed to have stopped. At least Golu felt so. His eyes were glued to the wall clock which seemed to have frozen. He was convinced that the clock had been tampered with. Or maybe the maintenance guy forgot to replace the worn-out batteries. Lazy bum! Didn't he know how crucial time was? Yes, that's right. It was the maintenance guy's fault that the clock was taking so long to strike two o'clock this afternoon.

Sitting at his desk in the classroom, with only five minutes to two o'clock, Golu squinted his eyes at the minute hand of the clock. He willed it to move. As if he could speed it up with his stare. The absence of second hand was making it even more difficult for him to track time. The teacher had finished her subject and was giving some last minute instructions about homework. On a normal day, Golu would have been attentive. He could also have been cooking up some mischief with his friends or splitting teams for a game they would be playing before the school bus arrived. But today, everything around him faded, as he impatiently drowned in his eagerness to dash out of his class. Today, he won't be taking the bus. His dad was coming to pick him up. They had to go somewhere with mum. Golu didn't know where. And he was least concerned. All he knew was that his dad would pick him up on his scooter and that's what he was excited about. Golu loved scooter rides with dad. Taking a taxi, an auto, or a bus was boring. These rides were a task. One would get on, take a seat, follow a predetermined route and simply wait for the destination to arrive. What was the fun in that? But scooter was different. It was their own ride. Sitting behind his dad, he would get an unhindered view of the surroundings and he had all the time in the world to admire it. He would point to anything and dad would tell him about it. When there was traffic, dad would sometimes take a shortcut and Golu would feel like an explorer discovering some forbidden island. He had never experienced anything else so liberating. And today, he was going to experience it again. He remembered the route the bus took every day. Today he would explore it all on his favourite ride. He would ask dad to take an alternate route or a shortcut to home if possible. It was going to be fun. He could barely hold himself together.

Finally, the clock struck two and the school bell rang. The whole school echoed with an involuntary customary cheer. Golu grabbed his backpack and bolted out. He ran through the hallway, down the stairs, across the school ground and within a few minutes, was at the school gate. The gate was already crowded. He made his way through to an elevated spot. But dad was not there. He decided to let the crowd disperse for a better view. Then he looked again. But he couldn't find his dad. He figured that dad must still be on his way. Just then a friend came running and asked him to hurry as the school bus had arrived. He smiled and told the friend to go ahead as his dad would be coming to pick him up. Saying those words out loud made him feel assured. As his friend left, he lightened up again.

He didn't know how long he had been waiting but there was still no sign of his dad. But why? He had told dad in the morning that the school gets over at two o'clock. And it was two already. Did dad mix up the timings? What if dad had forgotten to pick him up? Maybe he himself was late. It was a few minutes past two actually. Dad must have come and left when he didn't find him at the gate at two o'clock. He blamed the maintenance guy again. That must be it. This made complete sense. He had missed dad by a few minutes. And it meant that dad must not have gotten far. He could catch up if he hurried. He made his decision and quickly came out of the school gate.

Without further ado, he started following his bus route. With determined, quick steps, he was out on the main road in no time. He had been here hundreds of times, but never on foot. He paused to look around. What he saw was an altogether different version of the picture he had in mind. That wide-open road, the petrol pump his bus occasionally halted at, the traffic signal up ahead, that girls' school at the corner, that signboard for the hospital in the next block, everything was same, yet he felt strange. Today he was not just a jolly spectator from the bus, but a part of this scenery himself. He didn't know what to make of it. None of this looked as exciting as it would on dad's scooter. He felt alone. It didn't take long for his loneliness to turn into anxiety, then into melancholy and finally to panic. How would he even go home? A sore lump strained in his throat. His breathing became heavy. Dad, please come and get me! He scurried ahead, ignoring the surroundings. Please, dad, come fast. He increased his pace. His steps set him on an autopilot mode. He crossed roads, took one turn after another, but didn't stop. Where are you, dad? The more he panicked, the faster he went. He didn't even know how long had he been walking and how far had he come. Was that it? Was he lost? Would he ever see his home again?

"Golu!". He turned. It was his dad. Amidst gloomy clouds of anxiety and desperation, the vibrant Sun had come out.

His dad had reached his school a bit late. When he couldn't find Golu, he asked around, and finally ended up at the Principal's office. He called home from the office only to find that Golu wasn't on the school bus either. No one at school had any idea about Golu's whereabouts. Dad was furious and had created quite a ruckus back there. It was only on his way back that he found Golu.

"What are you doing here?" Dad was stumped.  

"You weren't there when the school got over, so I went ahead to catch up with you." Golu's eyes sparkled with delight as he actually thought that he had succeeded.

Amidst surprise, disbelief and amusement, dad couldn't decide on his reaction. He simply smiled and said, "Okay, hop on!"   

The words did their magic. Forgetting his ordeal and filled with euphoria, Golu fervently obliged.

Her

Krishna lay slumped down on his sofa. He had just returned from a visit to Sinha uncle. He thought of reading something but felt too tired. He would probably have watched TV if the remote wasn't across the table. Getting up to fetch it was out of the question. He listened to the ticking of wall clock for a while but it made him dizzy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his mind off her. Everything was fine till last night. He had not even given her a second thought before going to bed. It was only after he got up in the morning, he felt the aftermath.

He was visiting home for Diwali. Last morning, the family had finally planned a long-due temple visit. He wasn't much of a temple-goer, but family outings were always relaxing. Though he had gotten up early, he had dozed off as soon as he sat in the car. And before he knew it, they were at the temple. The temple was, as one is during festive seasons, crowded. They joined the queue, which was moving very slowly. Krishna remembered visiting this temple as a kid. It had changed a lot in these years. The shops were not just selling pooja thaals. They now also had keychains, toys, pendants and even balloons! There were hundreds of such shops along the way. All of them glittering and most of them modernised dramatically with computerised counters. It looked more like a street market. And the way people had gathered made it seem even more so. 

Before he could dwell further into the surroundings, he heard that voice, right next to his ear. Instinctively, he turned, but the voice was gone. He looked around and found that he had lagged behind his family. All he could hear was the crowd's murmur. Maybe it was his imagination? But it definitely didn't feel so. He was still wondering when he heard it again. He turned immediately and there she was, right beside him, staring into his eyes. He didn't move. All he could do was to stare back, blankly. Then someone pushed, and the queue's order was disrupted. Some growled some biffed, some cursed and some simply gave grumpy looks. And in all this commotion, Krishna lost her again. He wondered where she kept vanishing. Although he didn't realise why he waited for her to reappear. He didn't know whether it was anxiety or curiosity, but the sight of her made him uneasy. In a few moments, the commotion subdued, and he saw her again. She had come around and was now to his other side, staring right at him, again. He didn't take his eyes off her, but also wondered if anyone saw him. He didn't know what to do. She had caught him off-guard. In fact, he was a bit surprised at the way she was looking at him. He could tell that she was definitely up to something as if she was going to make a move. This made him nervous. He considered ignoring her and jumping the queue, but there was not enough space. He felt trapped. And then, without a warning, she came at him and before he could protest, she planted a desperate kiss on his cheek. He instinctively swayed his arm and hit the man in front of him. Now it was his turn to be cursed and pushed. But before he could get a hold of himself, that man had mistakenly hit someone else and just like that, another commotion started. Well, at least that was good luck. It took only a few moments for the things to simmer down, but by now, she was gone. Krishna looked about frantically, but she was nowhere to be found.

Was that for real? Did that really happen? He had felt it on his cheek though. And it had given him a weird feeling. He had definitely not seen that coming. He had been a little worried at first but then decided to let it go. Maybe he was over-reacting. But the way it all happened had left him stumped. With a deep sigh, he had pulled himself together and tried not to think about it.         

His phone rang and brought his mind back to the present. The display read "Dr. Sinha calling". 

"Hello?". He answered quickly, eager to listen to what Dr. Sinha had to say.

"Hello Krishna. Well, I have got your blood test report here, and I am afraid that you were right. The mosquito that bit you was a 'her' and your malaria test has come back positive."

Reward

Golu was elated. On a chair in the corner of the balcony, he sat gazing longingly at the currency note in his hand. Mom had given him ₹50 as a reward for cleaning his room. She hadn't asked him to do so, and neither had he volunteered. He simply did it, just like that. Mom felt proud, for her son's sense of responsibility, and decided not to let this go unappreciated; hence the reward.

Golu never demanded anything. Although he would always eye Dad curiously whenever he returned from work, Golu was never disappointed if Dad ever, though rarely, came empty handed. So far, the only times he had held money in his hand was to run some errand for Mom or Dad. And that was all money was to him. Shopping was their job. They decided what he needed and subsequently provided. In fact, he never bothered about the logistics of the things he was bought. He always seemed content.

But today was different. He had earned this. He didn't really know why suddenly something had started pumping rapidly through his veins, but it felt good. He sat there, trying to subsume this feeling of exhilaration. He had not yet decided what would he do with the money. He wondered if his elder brothers had ever won something like that. And what if they had? He decided not to blow over his newly-won laurels by asking. 

"Golu!". His mom called from inside.

"Yes, coming." He quickly put the note in the pocket of his navy blue shorts and ran inside.

Mom was in the kitchen. Her calls from the kitchen were generally followed by an errand request. His heart sank. The feel-good factor jumped out the window and wild thoughts started popping in his head. Was she going to spend his prize on house chores? Did she think she gave him too much? What if she decided he wasn't worth this much and wanted to settle for gajar-halwa instead? He loved gajar-halwa. The thought of it brought an involuntary smile to his face, but it faded as quickly when he realised that he might have to choose between his love and his latest feat. He sniffed. Nothing. There was hope.

"Yes, mom?". He asked from the kitchen door. Normally he would rush in, on the prospects of a visit to the market all by himself.

"Go check if the tailor's shop is open." She was arranging the kitchen. She was always picking something from one place and putting it at another. How did she even chose what to pick from where and what to replace it with? Anyway, this meant that there was no errand to run. He was always a good observer.

"And what else?" He asked to be sure.

"Nothing else. Go quickly. Just tell me if it's open or not."

"Uhh, mom?" He hesitated.

"What? Go quickly. He closes his shop earlier than usual nowadays." She was still busy putting something somewhere.

Golu took a deep breath and exhaled it all in one go. "Okay listen. Can I also go and buy myself something with that money?"

Now she turned to look at him. She saw the sparkle in his eyes and loved him for it. 

"What are you going to buy?" She asked adorably. She had been wondering what he would do with his prize money.

"I don't know. I was thinking that I would just go to the shops, have a look around and then decide." He wanted to run off before Mom suggested anything.

Mom found this idea interesting. She said, "Okay go, but come back soon. And tell me about the tailor first."

Golu found his enthusiasm back. He swooshed past the hall and ran out the main entrance. Down the street, around the corner, there was a spot from where the tailor's shop was visible. He climbed on the edge of footpath and craned his neck. Right next to a Peepal tree, the signboard "Kumar Tailors" was unmistakable. Inside the shop, he could see lowered heads of two men. He could even hear the faint whirring sound of their machines. He ran back to his house. He reached the entrance and shouted to his mom. 

"Yes mom, the shop is open. And I am going now, bye!" He ran again. Mom said something back but he didn't wait to listen. He was already halfway down the street. He could hear the rhythmic banging of his own slippers on the pavement. It was the sound of unadulterated joy. It was music to his ears. He ran faster.

He stopped only when he reached the road. There wasn't much traffic on Sunday afternoons. The market was on the other side. He hurriedly crossed over and paused to catch his breath. He was now in the market. He pulled himself together, looked around, took a deep breath, and started walking.

He stopped in front of the ice cream parlour. His favourite mango flavour cost ₹15. He started making the calculations on his little fingers. But then he checked himself. He could get an ice-cream any day. Today was special. He moved on. The next one was a toy store. He found that all he could get for ₹50 was a small plastic dragonfly aircraft. It seemed a waste. The next was a stationery. He asked for a word game but found that the price was too high. He came out and stood aside. He looked around. There was a general store, a barber's shop, a post office, an electrician's shop, and all other sorts of grownup stuff. He frowned. The opportunity seemed to be slipping away and he felt helpless. He wished he had more money. If he had more, he would stack it all up somewhere.

Of course! Why didn't he think of it earlier? He could save money! Isn't that what Dad was always advising? Only now Golu understood why. So that's exactly what he was going to do. Wait till Dad came to know. He would be proud. Maybe he would even hand him another reward for such wise decision! Golu's eyes were shining again. He quickly went back to the stationery and asked for a piggy bank. He chose one; pig-shaped, and sky blue in colour. The price was ₹45. He would even have spare ₹5 to put inside it. The day was just getting better and better.

Beaming, he grabbed the piggy bank in one hand and slid the other one in his pocket. His two fingers went right through a little hole.  

Dilemma

"Boliye bhaisaab, kya chaiye?"

It was only after he heard the shopkeeper, Satya realised that he was standing inside a general store. He rushed back through his thoughts. He had just got down from the auto, paid ₹25. The auto, which he took from outside the railway station. The station, where he got off the local train every day from work. He easily recalled everything. And there was nothing off routine. Isn't this what he did every day? Maybe it was the shopkeeper. But it was the same guy. What was this feeling then? Something had definitely struck something, somewhere, in his mind.

"Kya doon saab?"

"Uhh...ek doodh ka packet dedo."

He paid for the milk and came out of the shop. He looked at his flat on the top floor of the building across the road. Then he looked at others, one by one. His was the only flat with lights off. Even that nosy uncle was home. The uncle was an old retired man who lived below Satya's flat. He always made sure to put his nose thoroughly through others' business, which was ironic for his short nose. It was funny how he managed to keep an eye on everybody and everything. Maybe this is what people do when they retire. Satya wondered what he would do after his own retirement. He wasn't going to be nagging for sure. But what would he even want to do? Wait. That's it.

It was the question the shopkeeper asked him. What did he want! The shopkeeper probably popped the same question to every visitor. But today, he had struck Satya's nerve. And now that he had, Satya would not let it go. He needed to know why it bothered him. So he decided to take a walk around the block. 

Well, he knew what was wrong. His life. Not the life itself, though. Life was no doubt, beautiful. It was the way it turned out for him. Sitting behind the desk, doing the same monotonous job, six days a week. At least alternate Saturdays were off. But it's what he did with those Saturdays, Sundays and other holidays. They were spent mostly by sitting in front of the laptop, watching movies, listening to music, or reading a book. He loved doing this. But still, something was amiss. It always felt like he didn't belong in this job. Everything he knew, he had learnt either from books, television, or internet. His job only taught him to ignore people who didn't matter. 

He wanted to test his limits. Go through rigorous discipline, intriguing circumstances. But then, he also wanted to travel, read, write, act, invent, meet people, inspire and a lot more. He wanted to do everything. He wondered if he would ever find his call. Or is this how he was supposed to live it all, in his mind?     

"Abbe yeda hai kya?"

His reverie was broken by an auto-rickshaw driver cursing a cyclist. Satya had come around the block and was nearing his building. He made a decision. He would now keep a track of his actions. That way, he would be able to differentiate the do's from the don'ts. He was climbing the stairs now. He vowed to remember the tiny details. He opened the door to his flat. He would gradually discard the unimportant stuff. He went to the kitchen to put the milk in the refrigerator. He would get rid of the mundanity by being less repetitive. And there, in the refrigerator, lay another packet of milk he had bought the day before.