Hostel ki Chhat par Tera Intezaar
Boys hostel ki chhat — raat 11 baje. Rules ke hisaab se allowed nahi. Par rules aur college students — kabhi match nahi hote. Main upar jata tha — roz. Akela. Stars dekhne? Nahi — girls hostel ki chhat pe Dia ko dekhne. Woh bhi roz aati thi — apni chhat par. Guitar bajati thi. Doosri building. 100 meter ki duri. Awaz aati thi — hawa mein guitar ke notes. Kya bajati thi? "Tera Ban Jaunga." Roz. Same song. Roz thoda better. Maine ek raat torch se signal diya — on-off, on-off. Bachpan wala code. Uski guitar ruki. Phir — uski torch bhi on-off hui. Communication established. Agle din — Morse code seekha. Ek hafte mein fluent. Torch se baat karne lage — raat 11 baje, chhat par, 100 meter ki doori se. "HI" — pehla message. "HI. KAUN?" — jawab. "BOYS HOSTEL. GUITAR SUNKE AATA HOON." "ACHHA BAJATI HOON?" "NAHI. PAR RUKO MAT." Uski torch tezi se blink hui — morse mein hasi. Teen mahine — roz raat morse code. Baatein? Sab. Exams, dreams, complaints about hostel food, favourite movies. Ek baar — "TUJHE DEKHNA HAI PROPERLY." Usne reply kiya — "CANTEEN. KAL. 12 BAJE." Canteen — pehli baar saamne. Woh bilkul waisi thi jaisi maine 100 meter ki doori se imagine ki thi. Aur bilkul alag bhi. "Toh tu hai guitar wala boy," usne kaha. "Aur tu hai torch wali girl." Humne chai pi. Baatein ki. Morse code ki zarurat nahi thi — par woh zyada romantic tha. Raat ko — chhat par — phir morse code. "ACHA LAGA MILKE?" "BAHUT." "PHIR SE MILEIN?" "RAAT KO CHHAT PAR." "NAHI — DHOOP MEIN. CANTEEN MEIN. PROPERLY." "DONE." College ke baaki ke do saal — din mein canteen, raat mein chhat. Morse code kabhi band nahi hua — woh hamari secret language ban gayi. Aaj — shaadi ke baad — flat mein rehte hain. Kabhi-kabhi — raat ko — woh bedroom ki light on-off karti hai. Morse mein — "I LOVE YOU." Main kitchen ki light se reply karta hoon — "I KNOW." Kuch languages kabhi nahi marte.