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Raincoat sambhalte hue Neha ne phone nikala. GPS blink kar raha tha, signal zero. Mumbai se Pune ke highway pe kaafi traffic tha aur wo bas ek shortcut le rahi thi… ya socha tha. Achanak, ek chhota sa bus stop dikha – mitti se bana hua, lakdi ka shed, aur ek puraani ghanti latakti hui. Naam bhi ajeeb tha: “Laal Thikana”.
Thodi der rukne ka socha, par jaise hi Neha ne step rakha… kuch badal gaya.
Pehle hawa ka sound intense ho gaya, jaise sirf uske kaanon ke paas se guzarta ho. Phir uska watch… band. Mobile ka screen… static. Aur sabse creepy – peeche wohi raste, wohi ped, wohi bus stop ghuma-phira ke aa jate jaise koi loop mein phase ho.
Ek babu-type aadmi dikha, safed kurte mein, aankhon mein kuch ajeeb si pyaas. Bola, “Yahan ruk gayi ho? Jaldi karo, waqt sahi nahi hai.” Par jab Neha ne poocha kaise nikaloon, banda muskuraya, ek ghanti bajakar gaya. Aur sab kuch aur ulta hone laga.
Ab buses aayein, par andhar koi driver nahi, sirf andhere chehre. Ek aurat chilla rahi thi: “Bus chhuti thi, hum sab ruk gaye, ab kabhi nahi ja sakte!” Neha bhaagne lagi.
Jab tak bhaag rahi thi, ghanti ki awaaz uska peecha karti rahi. Akhir mein woh ek chhoti si tea stall pe pahunchi, jahaan ek bada mirror tha. Khud ko dekha… par reflection mein Neha ruk gayi, static mein jam gayi thi. Aur asli Neha? Tea stall ke saab ke kehne pe samajh aaya, yeh “Laal Thikana”: ek cursed bus stop hai – jahaan waqt atak jaata hai, aur log apni reflections ke saath trapped reh jaate hain… forever.
Aur sabse badi baat: tea stall waala khud ek purana reflection tha, dus saal purana. Waqt wahaan sirf sabko delete karne ka kaam karta tha. Aur Neha ka asli shareer? Ab Laal Thikana ke shadow mein hamesha ke liye gum ho chuka tha…
