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Ravi ek freelance graphic designer tha, jo Delhi ke Lajpat Nagar mein rented flat mein rehta tha. Uski life kaafi normal chal rahi thi, jab tak us raat uske laptop pe ek ajnabee notification flash nahi hua: “Incoming video call – Isha Kapoor.”
Ravi ka haath freeze ho gaya. Isha. Teen mahine pehle, Isha ne IIT Delhi ke hostel ki chhatti se kudh kar apni jaan le li thi. Police ne kaha tha ki suicide tha. Ravi uska acha dost tha, kabhi kabhi zyada bhi, par kuch din pehle hi unka contact toot gaya tha. Jab Isha gayi, Ravi guilt aur confusion mein doob gaya tha.
Par ab ye call?
Usne cautiously mouse click kiya. Screen black rahi kuch seconds ke liye, phir camera chalu hua. Ek blurred video feed thoda-thoda clear hua. Pehle toh sirf ek lihaf dikhayi diya, jaise koi camera ke saamne lete hue ho. Microphone se sirf static aa raha tha. Phir achanak ek awaz aayi, “Tumhi nahi samjhe kabhi, Ravi.”
Isha ka voice?
Ravi ne turant call ka audio record karne lag gaya. “Isha? Tu… tu zinda hai kya? Ye kaise possible hai?”
Isha ki image ab clear hone lagi thi, lekin kuch ajeeb tha. Uska face pancaked tha — jaise koi wajah pe pressure se marks pad gaye ho. Aur uski aankhon mein kuch unnatural stiffness thi, unblinked stare jaisa. Uske peechhe ek grey background tha, bina kisi darwaze ya window ke. Jaise she was trapped.
“Main wahi hoon jahan tune mujhe chod diya tha,” Isha ne kaha, lekin voice mechanical lag rahi thi, jaise kisi outdated speaker se aaye.
Ravi ne laptop shut down kar diya, par screen band nahi hui. External power unplug karne par bhi feed chalti rahi. Usne plug nikaal diya, fir bhi video call ka window ruk gaya screen pe.
Usne pehle socha ye kisi prank ka hissa hai. Kisi ne AI generated feed banayi ho? Par Isha ki aankhon mein ek asal ka gussa aur dabav tha — kuch aise emotions jo AI mimic nahi kar sakta.
Agle din woh IIT ka hostel gaya. Wahan ek retired guard mila jisne kuch ajeeb share kiya. “Us raat jab Isha ne chhatti se kudh kar diya na… CCTV mein ek glitch aaya. Uska fall record nahi hua. Sirf ek frame mein dikh raha tha uska silhouette hawa mein latk raha hai. Bas ek second. Fir blank.”
Ravi aur pareshan ho gaya. Shaam hoti gayi, dhoop dhal gayi. Jab woh wapas flat aaya, tab usne notice kiya ki uske laptop mein webcam automatic chalu tha, bina kisi app ke.
Subah ek aur call aayi — iss baar bina naam ke. Jab Ravi ne uthaya, same room dikh raha tha. Lekin ab camera thoda right move hua tha. Ek aur ladki sitting posture mein thi, baalon se chehra chhupa hua. Isha ne kaha: “Yeh Radhika hai. Tum ise jaante ho.”
Radhika Ravi ki college junior thi. Teen saal pehle usne bhi suicide kiya tha. Ravi ne tab bas ek baar usse baat ki thi, jab usne help maangi thi notes ke liye. Uske doston ne bataya tha ki wo depression se guzar rahi thi.
“Tum samjhte ho tumhara koi lena dena nahi?” Isha ki awaaz ab distorted hone lagi thi. “Har baat, har ignore, har cold reply ek drop tha. Ek din bhar gaya woh glass. Tumne us glass mein bhi participate kiya tha, Ravi. Aur yeh woh jagah hai jahan ham sab rukte hain — digital hell.”
Ravi ne call band ki, laptop destroy kiya, naya kharida. Par week ke andar fir wahi call, nai device pe. Is baar dus log screen par the. Sab ke chehre Ravi ke dimag ke kone se judi kuch dull ya bhooli ya purani ya accidentally hurt ho gayi ya ignore ki gayi ya block ki gayi ya misunderstood connections.
Har call mein ek naya face. Har kisi ki aankhen bas ek sawaal poochti: “Tumhe yaad bhi tha hum the?”
Ravi ne therapists contact kiya. Technical logon ko dikhaya. Par kisi ke paas koi trace nahi mila. Jo bhi IP detect hoti, wo ek looping sandbox server hoti — jahan data jaata nahi tha, sirf repeat hota. Jaise koi aur control kar raha ho woh call.
Ek din Ravi ne apne flat ke kamre mein ek old mirror install kiya, sirf ek aesthetic touch ke liye. Lekin jab wo dus minute kuch nahi bol raha tha, aur phone screen off thi, usne mirror mein dekha — uske peechhe camera chal raha tha. Bina kisi device ke.
Us raat Ravi ne apni aankhon mein pehli baar woh stare mehsoos ki — un sab ki aankhen us pe thi. Aur ek bhi blink nahi karta tha. Phir ek final call screen pe flash hua:
“Next face uploaded. Your turn to stare back. Forever.”
Woh chillane laga, par koi response nahi hua. Static feed mein uska apna chehra tha — ab un sab ke beech mein. Frozen. Staring. Recording.
Aur tab se, jab bhi koi apni screen pe ek unknown video call dekhta hai, unko ek familiar face milta hai — woh Rahul, Pooja, Neha koi bhi ho sakta hai.
Par ek baar connect hone ke baad, tum wapas nahi aa sakte.
