Share This Article
Aman ek struggling content writer tha, jo naye project ke liye Ooty ke ek purane Government Guest House mein gaya tha. November ki thandi hawa aur guest house ke makhmali curtains ke beech kuch ajeeb sa sannata tha. Guest house me sirf ek caretaker tha, wo bhi din mein hi dikhai deta.
Aman ka kamra 102 tha — badi si khidki, ek kaala telephone aur ek rangin diwar clock. Raat ke dus baje Aman apne article pe kaam kar raha tha jab kuch ajeeb hua. Room ke kone mein rakha wo telephone — bina ringtone ke bas ek halki si ghanti ki tarah vibrating sound kar raha tha.
Aman ne phone uthaya. Dusri taraf se ek jani-pehchani awaaz aayi, “Hey Aman, tum theek ho na?” Vo awaaz ‘uski’ thi — lekin thodi muffled, jaise paani ke ander se bol rahi ho. Aman ne ghabra ke mirror ki taraf dekha — aur dekha ki uska reflection usi se kuch kehta hua lag raha tha… lekin uska muh hila nahi raha tha.
Ghabra kar Aman ne phone kaat diya. Socha kisi prankster ka kaam hoga, ya stress ka effect. Lekin us raat jab bhi vo sota, phone bajta. Har bar uske reflection se awaaz aati, har bar naye sawal:
“Tum apne aap ko kab tak dhokha doge, Aman?”
“Neeche aa jaao… mein intezaar kar raha hoon.”
Agli dopahar caretaker se poochha, to usne bas itna kahaa, “Sir, wo phone ka line to 5 saal pehle hi disconnect ho chuka hai.”
Raat ko Aman ka plan tha jaldi so jaane ka. Wu ne heavy dose ki neend ki dawai li. Lekin jaise hi aankhen lagne lagi, ek ajeeb sensation hua — jaise koi usko ghur raha ho. Room ka mirror apne aap foggy hone laga, aur usme slow slow kuch likhne laga: “TUM YAHA HO, PAR MAIN WAHAN.”
Phone phir bajne laga. Iss baar ring loud aur shrill thi. Aman ne darr ke maare phone uthaya nahi. Lekin tabhi usne dekha — mirror mein ek dusra Aman aa gaya tha. Vo Aman, jo usse ghur raha tha, muskurate hue kehta jaa raha tha, “Main asli hoon… Tum bas kuch lamho ka sapna.”
Telephone off karne ke liye Aman ne wire khinch diya — par phone tab bhi bajta raha.
Dar ke maare Aman guest house se bhaag gaya. Seedha nearest police station gaya. Police uske sath jaane ke liye tayyar ho gayi. Jab wapas aaye, to Room 102 band tha… aur chhabi caretaker ke paas ki jagah Aman ke haath mein thi.
“Par maine to yeh chhabi li hi nahi…” Aman ne hichkichate hue kaha.
Police officer ne mirror ke paas jaake dekha — vahan ek purana paper chipka tha, hawa mein lahrate hue. Usmein likha tha:
“Yahan sirf wahi reh sakte hain jo asli na ho.”
Teek usi moment mein, room ka mirror thoda hil gaya, aur uske ander se Aman ki reflection ek asliyat se baahar nikalti hui nazar aayi — Aman’s original body proving to be just a hollow echo. Aur jo Aman ab advise kar raha tha police ko us room ke bare mein… vo apni reflection ke orders pe zinda tha.
Kahani yahin khatam nahi hoti. Ab bhi, guest house ke naye guests kabhi kabhi phone ki ghanti sunte hain… aur apne reflections ke saath interact karte hain. Sawal ye hai — kya tum apne reflection se survive kar paoge?
