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Main uss chhoti si gaon mein naye-naye shift hua tha. Mera kaam ek local school mein tha, jaha mujhe science padhaani thi. Gaon ka naam toh ab main yaad bhi nahi karta, kyunki jitni der waha raha, ek saans bhi asaani se nahi li. Mere ghar ke paas ek purani haveli thi — bada sa lohe ka gate, jisme jang lag chuki thi, aur andhar tak jhaadiyon se dhaka hua. Bachche usse ‘bhoot bangla’ bulate the.
Pehle-pahle maine ignore kiya. Logon ki kahaniyaan hoti rehti hain. Lekin ek raat, jab bijli chali gayi thi aur main mombatti ke roshni mein kitaabein padh raha tha, mujhe ek aurat ke chillane ki awaaz sunayi di. Pehle laga shayad kisi padosi ke ghar se aayi hogi, par jab baar baar wahi awaaz aye, toh maine decide kiya – mujhe check karna padega.
Torch le kar main haveli ke taraf chala. Gate khula hua tha, ya shayad kisi ne toda ho. Andar ghuste hi ek thand ki lehar meri haddiyon tak aa gayi. Saans lena bhi mushkil lag raha tha. Andar sab kuch toota-phoota tha. Deewar se paint chhil chuka tha, aur har kona jaise kuch keh raha tha.
Main seedhiyaan chadh raha tha ki ek jhankar sunayi di — jaise payal ki awaaz. Main ruk gaya. ‘Koi aur hai kya?’ maine zor se poocha. Koi jawab nahi aya, sirf khamoshi. Par mujhe laga ki mujhe dekha jaa raha hai.
Upar pahunch kar, ek darwaza khula tha — bahut purana, lakdi ka. Andar gusse hi main jahan tha waha hawa bilkul thandi aur bhaari thi. Ek purani almari ke paas kuch hil raha tha. Main aage badha, tab mujhe deewar par kuch purani tasveerein dikhayi di — ek parivaar ki. Ek aurat, ek aadmi aur ek chhota bachcha. Aur woh aurat… uski aankhon mein dard tha. Tabhi peeche se awaaz aayi — ‘Tum wapas kyun aaye?’
Main palta — koi nahi tha. Par darwaza band ho chuka tha. Main bhaag kar gaya almari ke paas, par usme kuch bhi nahi tha. Lekin neeche ek purana diary gira tha. Jab maine uthaya aur padha, toh meri roo kaanp gayi.
“16 March 1983 – Maine aakhir use maar diya. Usne mujhe dhoka diya. Meri beti ab mujhe protect karegi. Koi bhi jo andar aayega, usse use rokna padega.”
Phir diary mein ek aur page tha, jaha sirf ek naam likha tha: “Devika”. Tab mujhe yaad aaya — village ke school ke register mein ye naam likha tha, lekin kisi ne kabhi us naam ka student nahi dekha.
Tabhi ek cheekh! Ek bachche ki, wo cheekh seedha mere dimaag mein ghus gayi. Main diary gira ke bahar bhaagna chaha, lekin darwaza jaise chipak gaya tha. Tab mujhe uska chehra dikha — ek chhoti ladki, safed kapdon mein, chhoti si si body aur aankhon mein sirf andhera. Usne muskara ke kaha — “Aapko mummy se milna hai na?”
Peeche palta toh wohi aurat jo tasveer mein thi, meri taraf aayi — pair zameen se 2 feet upar… aankhen rakt jaisi laal. Uska muh khula, aur usne kaha — “Tum jhootey ho, sab jhoote hain. Tumhe bhi jaana padega.”
Mujhe yaad nahi kaise main waha se nikla. Bas ek teekhi cheekh, shattered glass aur ek bhag daud. Jab hosh aaya toh main apne kamre mein tha, darwaza khula, torch tooti hui aur diary meri jeb mein.
Agli subah, maine school mein ladki ka record dekha — Devika, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Sharma. Lekin 1983 mein ek aag mein mare gaye the teeno. Us haveli mein.
Main us din gaon chhod ke chala gaya. Lekin aaj bhi jab andhera hota hai, mujhe kabhi-kabhi payal ki awaaz sunayi deti hai… aur ek awaaz poochti hai — “Diary ab bhi tumhare paas hai na?”
Shayad main usse dobara milne wala hoon.
