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Purani Delhi ke platform number 13 par kuch maheene pehle ek chhota sa naya café khula tha — RailChai Junction. Purane station ke sukhaye hue vibes ke beech ek chhoti si roshini ka point. Arnav ek freelance writer tha jo nayi jagahon par kahaniyan likhne jaata tha. Ek raat, jab puri duniya Deepawali ke celebration mein masti kar rahi thi, Arnav RailChai mein akela coffee le raha tha. Bahar aandhi chal rahi thi aur poore station par ek ajeeb sannata tha.
Platform ke kone mein ek purana telephone booth tha. Vahan koi nahi jaata tha, sirf ek jeevant smriti jaise tha 90s ke zamane ka. Lekin us raat, woh booth mein phone baji. Ek kaan ke liye bhi awaaz nahi thi aaspaas, bas woh ek matra phone ki kankharti ghanti.
Arnav pehle to hansa, socha prank hoga. Lekin kuch tha us ghanti mein — jaise koi sahara maang raha ho. Apni coffee table par chhod kar, Arnav telephone booth ke taraf chala. Haath booth ke darwaze par rakha, aur phone uthaya.
“Hello?”
Doosri taraf se sirf siske aur hawa ki awaaz sunayi di. Fir ek ladki ki halki si awaaz: “Mujhe ghar lautna hai… platform se jaane do… mujhe signal dikhao…”
Arnav ne poochha, “Aap kaun hain? Aap kahaan hain?”
Bas wahi awaaz baar-baar: “Signal… signal do… nikalne do…”
Phone kat gaya. Arnav beach mein hi hairan. Kuch kami thi hawa mein? Ya apne imagination ka natija tha?
Wapas café ki taraf aate waqt uski nazar platform par dur kisi parchhayi par padi. White salwar-kameez mein ek ladki, sirf aadha chehra dikhta tha. Bilkul station ke end par signal post ke paas khadi thi. Arnav ne aankhen malkayi — wahan koi nahi tha.
Tab hi café wale chotu ne daura kar aakar kaha: “Bhaiya, platform pe mat jaana! Raat ke baad koi bhi udhar nahi jaata! Platform 13 ab band hai pichle 12 saalon se.”
Arnav ne mazaak mein kaha, “Kyun, bhoot hai kya?”
Chotu ka chehra dhal gaya: “Ek accident hua tha… ek ladki ka. Signal fail ho gaya tha. Train ne kuchal diya use. Tab se voh har raat signal maangti hai, jaise voh apni adhoori journey poori karna chahti ho…”
Mazaak lag raha tha Arnav ko. Lekin jab usne café ke kone mein purani Newspaper clipping dekhi — “12-year-old Girl Killed in Railway Signal Failure, 2009” — tab uske pair thande pad gaye.
Us raat Arnav ne decide kiya, vah dubara nahi aayega. Lekin jab ghar gaya, tab pata chala mobile network absent rehta hai. Har din ek nayi ajeeb si missed call dikhti — “Unknown Number – Last Call from Platform 13”.
Arnav ke sapno mein who ladki aane lagi: poochhti: “Signal doge? Main jaa sakungi?”
One month baad, Arnav decide karta hai platform pe lautne ka. Ek battery-operated railway signal light lekar. Usne socha shayad iss madness ka khatma tab hoga jab kuch closure mile.
Raat 1 baje, platform 13 pe vapas gaya. Hawa mein wahi purani hawaasi boo thi. Signal lamp ko jalaya aur adhoore platform ke kone mein chhod diya.
Kachh kachh… train ke track pe awazein aayi. Koi train nahi thi, lekin track hil raha tha jaise steel ke neeche koi raftaar me ho.
Fir wahi ladki dikhayi di — safed salwar-kameez mein, aankhen bina dekhte hue signal lamp ki taraf badh rahi thi. Usne halka sa muskara kar signal ki taraf haath badhaya. Jaise hi usne signal ko chhua, Arnav ko mehsoos hua poora platform hil raha tha.
Achaanak signal se chingari nikalne lagi — aur Arnav ek pal ke liye stationmaster ki old uniform mein tha, platform pe. Saaton taraf laashien thi — bichli hui, kuchali hui.
Ladki ka chehra uske saamne tha, lekin aankhen khoon se bhare hue the.
“Tumne mera signal fail kiya tha… tum meri maut ke zimmedar the… aur tumhara station ab meri duniya hai.”
Phone booth ka phone dobara baji, is baar platform puri tarah andhere mein dub gaya tha.
Last thing jo Arnav ne dekha, ek train ka light — bina driver ke, bina compartment ke — seedha uski taraf aata hua.
Agle din, newspaper mein chhota sa article tha:
“Unknown Man Found Dead at Abandoned Platform 13. Cause: Unknown Impact. Phone Booth Remains Off The Hook.”
Aur RailChai Café, kab ka band ho chuka tha.
