Wapas

Woh teen log Chandanpur se nikal gaye. Gaadi mein. Raaste par.

Koi nahi bola ek ghante tak.

Phir Arjun ne kaha:

"Tum dono ne kya kiya andar?"

Vikram ne bataya. Zara ne bataya.

Arjun chup raha.

"Yakshini ne mujhe kuch dikhaya tha," Arjun ne phir kaha. "Jab woh mere andar thi. Ek memory. Uski. 1987 ki raat ki. Main... main dekh sakta tha woh raat." "Kya tha?"

"Jinn aisi nahi thi. Woh — woh shuru mein aisi nahi aayi thi. Woh ek tarah se thi — khali. Khaali. Kisi ne use yahan bheja tha. Kisi insaan ne. Ek aadmi ne jo iss shehar mein tha — jo ek cheez chahta tha — jisne Jinn ko yahan bulaaya tha ki woh Yakshini ko khatam kar de. Uss aadmi ko Chandanpur ki zameen chahiye thi. Kisi cheez ke liye. Ek bade raaz ke liye."

"Woh aadmi kaun tha?"

"Ratan Das."

Silence.

"Pujari?"

"Haan. Usne khud likha — main gawah hoon. Par woh writer nahi tha — woh director tha. Usne Jinn ko bulaaya tha. Issi liye Jinn yahan aayi. Aur woh bolte raha ki Yakshini jeeti, Jinn maari — kyunki woh chahta tha ki log wahan na jaayein. Kyunki zameen ke neeche kuch tha."

"Kya tha?"

Arjun ruka.

"Mujhe nahi pata. Yakshini ne sirf itna dikhaaya. Baaki... andheera."

Gaadi chali. Reti mein. Suraj nikla. Normal duniya wapas aayi — BP petrol pump, dhaba, highway.

Lekin Vikram ne ek baar peechhe mura — Chandanpur ki taraf — aur ped wahan the. Wahi ped. Peepal. Sookhe. Khade.

Aur ek ped par — bilkul upar — ek figure thi.

Peele kapde. Lambe baal. Peethe ki taraf.

Wahi figure. Wahi jo ek raat se thi.

Abhi bhi wahan. Khadi. Shayad dekhti.

Vikram ne palki jhapaak kar peechhe dekha.

Figure nahi thi.

Ped tha. Khada. Sookha. Khaali.

Vikram seedha dekh ke gaadi chalaata raha.

❖ ❖ ❖

Teen hafte baad, Delhi mein, Vikram ki story publish hui.

"Chandanpur: Ek Bhule Huye Shehar Ki Sach"

Story viral hui. National coverage. Paranormal forums pe phenomena ke discussions hue. Ek raat mein Vikram Sinha ka naam famous ho gaya.

Lekin woh raat jo sabse zyada yaad rahi — ek raat Vikram ke studio apartment mein — jab woh late night kaam kar raha tha aur laptop screen par, background mein, ek file open ho gayi jise usne open nahi kiya tha.

Ek image file.

Chandanpur ki ek gali ki photo.

Koi ped nahi, koi chehra nahi.

Lekin zameen par — seedha gali ke beech mein — ek nishaan tha. Kaala. Geela. Teen lambi unglion ka panja.

Fresh.

Vikram ne file band ki.

File wapas khul gayi.

Nishaan thoda bada tha ab.

Vikram ne laptop band kiya.

Kuch nahi hua.

Woh so gaya.

Subah uthke dekha — laptop table par closed tha. Normal.

Bas ek cheez thi — raat bhar jo soya tha, uss neend mein ek sapna nahi aaya. Koi bhi nahi. Poori raat — khaali. Blank. Jaise neend mein koi andar gaya aur wahan jo tha — woh sab le gaya. Saari yadein. Saari dreams.

Sirf ek nishaan tha — uski left palm par.

Teen lambi unglion ka panja.

Bilkul halka. Sirf thodi si laalit. Jaise pressure se ho.

Jo do-teen din mein mit jaata.

Ya nahi mitata.

Vikram ne palm bund ki.

Uthke chai banaayi.

Aur bahar khidki se dekha — Delhi ki subah, hamesha ki tarah — aur sab normal tha. Sab theek tha.

Bas neeche, building ke saamne ki sadak par, ek peepal ka ped tha.

Jo wahan pehle nahi tha.