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Diwali ke din poore sheher mein roshni thi — ghar ghar deep jagmagate the, bachche patakhe chhodte, log ek dusre ko mithai khilate. Par purani gali mein ek kona aisa tha jahan sirf andhera tha. Wahan ek purana makan tha — ek tenat, jismein koi 10 saal se nahi raha. Log kehte the, voh shraapit hai.
Kahani shuru hoti hai Rehan se — ek college student jo apne doston ke sath Diwali ke chhuttiyon mein ghar aaya tha. Uske doston — Kabir, Meenu aur Vishal — ne dare ke mazedaar plan banaye. “Truth or dare?” Meenu ne bola, aur dare mein Rehan ko task diya gaya — “Pichhle kone wale uss purane ghar mein jaake ek diya jalao.”
Rehan hansta hua bola, “Bas itna hi? Bachpan se sunta aaya hoon us ghar ke kahaniyan… chalo dekhte hain kya hai wahan.”
Raat 10 baj rahe the, hawa mein thand aur patakhon ki jhalak thi. Gali mein sab ghar roshan the — sirf ek, wahi purana, jismein sab kuch sookha, toota-poota aur chhayaon mein dubaa tha.
Rehan ne ek chhota sa mitti ka diya apne haath mein uthaya aur ghar ke gate ki taraf chala. Uske doston ne door se mobile ka torch on karke record karna shuru kiya. Gate khula nahi, toh voh deewar par chadh ke andar gaya. Andar sab kuch veeran tha, jaise waqt kab ka ruk gaya ho. Diye ki lau halki si jal rahi thi.
Wooden floor ko halki si aahat chhed gayi — kisi ke paon ki. Rehan ne socha, “shayad billi hogi.” Par jab usne upar dekha — ek aurat, purani saari mein, safed aankhon ke sath usse ghur rahi thi. Uske haath ek chakla aur belan tha — par hila nahi rahi thi, bas ek jagah jame huye thi.
Rehan ka diya usi waqt bujh gaya. Uske chehre par paseena chhut gaya. “Hello?” usne tharrate hue kaha. Aurat ne kuch nahi bola. Dheere se niche jhukti gayi… aur uska chehra badalne laga. Vo kaali, jale hue chehre mein badal gaya — aankhen poori kaali, chehra haara hua aur cheekh itni tez ki Rehan wahin tharr gaya.
Ghar ke bahar video dekh rahe friends ne sirf Rehan ki cheekh suni aur camera blur ho gaya. Vishal bola, “Usko phone lagao!” Lekin Rehan ka phone unreachable batata raha. 10 minute ke andar darwaza khula, lekin Rehan nahi nikla. Police bulayi gayi. Ghar chhanna gaya. Koi nahi mila.
Agli subah, kisi ne ghar ke andar, ek purani rasoi mein ek jala hua diya dekha. Uske bagal mein ek belan pada tha — aur niche, floor par, mitti se likha hua tha — “Pehli Diwali thi jab voh na jale, ab jalaya hai.”
Police ne case close kar diya, Rehan missing declare kar diya. Par Rehan ke doston ne kabhi kisi ko nahi bataya ki unhone us rat kya dekha. Meenu aksar kehti thi, “Us ghar mein roshni nahi, ek bhook hai. Roshni jalti hai, toh voh jagta hai.”
Teen saal baad, Meenu apne nayi job ke silsile mein sheher chhod gayi. Lekin jab usne ek din WhatsApp par ek message dekha, voh hil gayi. Message sirf ek image thi — ek diya jala hua, ek belan ke paas, aur ek awaz ka note — “Tumne dare diya tha… ab tumhari baari hai.”
Kisi ne us image ke background mein zoom kar ke dekha toh ek photo frame mein Rehan dikh raha tha — khidki ke bahar se usi ghar ko dekhte hue.
Aaj bhi Diwali aati hai, roshni hoti hai, par purane ghar mein ek diya khudba-khud jalta hai… aur koi khidki se bahar ghurta rehta hai, aankhon mein ek sawal ke sath:
“Agla kaun?”
Aur jab hawayein tez chalti hain, toh purane belan ki khankhahat goonjti hai — jaise koi rasoi mein kisi ka intezaar kar raha ho.
