Pune ke ek purane market area mein shaam ka waqt tha. Aasman pe halki dhoop chhanti thi aur raste mein logo ki bhidh waise hi chali ja rahi thi jaise har roz chalti hai. Us bheed mein, ek ladki khadi thi — ek alag si, shant si, lekin kuch kehne wali aankhon ke saath. Usne laal saari pehni thi, golden border ke saath, ekdum perfect fold mein. Black blouse, ek smartwatch, aur muh par mask — jaise waqt ke saath chalte hue bhi apni pehchaan ko chhupane ki koshish kar rahi ho.
Uske haathon mein ek phone tha. Par yeh sirf phone nahi tha, uski kahani ka raaz bhi tha.
Koni pe khadi wo ladki, Neha thi. Neha har roz subah ek IT office mein kaam karti thi, aur shaam ko is gali mein kuch waqt bitati thi. Kyu? Kisi ko nahi pata. Par log kahte the ki wo kisi ka intezar karti hai. Har shaam usi jagah, usi deewar ke saath tik kar, phone mein kuch likhti ya padhti rehti.
Usi gali mein, ek aur aurat thi — Sushma. Hamesha green saree mein, kisi bench ya pathar pe baithi, chhupke chhupke Neha ko dekhti rehti. Uski aankhon mein jalan bhi thi, shaque bhi aur bechaini bhi. Sushma kisi zamane mein us gali ki sabse mashhoor aurat thi. Ab uski rozi-roti bhi mushkil se chalti thi. Par Neha ne jaise uska spotlight cheen liya ho.
Ek din, Sushma se raha nahi gaya. Wo uthi, aur Neha ke paas ja kar boli,
"Roz yahan aati ho. Kis ka intezar karti ho tum?"
Neha ne mask ke peeche se ek halki si muskaan di aur bola,
"Aapko batakar kya faayda hoga? Kabhi kabhi kuch raaz raaz hi rehne chahiye."
Sushma jala kar wapas apni jagah chali gayi. Par us din se Neha ki kahani mein ek naya mod aa gaya.
Wo phone jisme Neha roz kuch padhti thi, usme ek blog tha. Wo likhti thi — "Laal Saari Ki Kahaniyaan". Har post mein ek naye kirdar ki kahani hoti thi, jise wo isi gali mein observe karti thi. Sushma bhi ek din us blog mein aayi — "Hari Saari Wali Chinta" ke naam se. Usme Neha ne likha:
"Ek aurat jo kabhi is gali ka hissa thi, ab usi gali se pareeshaan hai. Shayad isliye kyunki waqt ne uski jagah kisi aur ko de di hai. Par kya woh jagah sirf kisi ek ki hoti hai?"
Wo blog dheere dheere viral hone laga. Log us blog ke zariye us gali ko pehchanne lage. Neha ke likhne ka andaaz, uski soch — sabko chhoo jaati thi. Par koi nahi jaanta tha ki Neha khud bhi us blog mein ek kirdar thi.
Uski kahani shuru hui thi do saal pehle, jab uska fiance, Rohan, isi gali mein kisi kaam se aaya tha aur kabhi wapas nahi gaya. Police ne bola ki wo kisi gang mein fas gaya, par Neha ko yakin tha ki uska Rohan zinda hai. Usne us gali mein aana shuru kiya — kisi clue ke liye. Par uske haath kuch nahi laga. Tab usne likhna shuru kiya, shayad apne dard ko shabdon mein daalne ke liye.
Par jaise jaise usne likhna shuru kiya, usse realize hua ki har kisi ki kahani mein ek dard chhupa hota hai — chaahe wo Sushma ho, chaahe koi chhota baccha, ya koi chaiwala.
Ek shaam, jab wo hamesha ki tarah likh rahi thi, ek aadmi aaya. Usne black jacket pehna tha aur aankhon mein chhupi pehchaan thi. Usne mask pehna hua tha, par Neha ki nazar ne use pehchan liya.
"Rohan?" usne dheere se kaha.
Aadmi ruk gaya. Uski aankhon mein aansu aa gaye. Wo kuch bol nahi saka. Sirf haan mein sir hilaya.
"Main tumse milne har shaam yahan aati thi," Neha ne kaha.
"Main tumse milne hi wapas aaya hoon," Rohan ne jawab diya.
Logon ne us din dekha — pehli baar Neha ne apna mask utara. Uski muskaan, uski aankhon se zyada roshan thi.
Sushma ne bhi dekha. Usne apni aankhon mein paani mehsoos kiya, par jalne wala nahi, ek narmi bhara aansu. Shayad usne samajh liya tha, har kisi ki kahani poori hoti hai — apne waqt pe.
#RedSareeWaliLadki
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#StreetStories
#DesiTales
#UrbanKahaniyaan
#IndianMarketLife
#LoveAndLoss
#MaskedEmotions
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#SareeSaga
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