दूरियाँ और मिलन

Flight ticket — Delhi to Pune. One way. ₹4,752. Itne mein kya milta hai? Ek seat — 30B, middle. 2 ghante ki flight. Plastic ki chai. Aur — Tanya. 8 mahine ho gaye the. Delhi mein main, Pune mein woh. Weekly calls — "Tu kaisa hai?" "Theek." "Main bhi." "Achha." Aise conversations jismein sab kuch hai — par kuch nahi. Tanya ne kabhi nahi kaha — "Aaja." Maine kabhi nahi kaha — "Aa raha hoon." Dono mein ego tha. Ya dar. Ya dono. Phir ek raat — 2 AM — uska message: "Mujhe teri woh purani t-shirt chahiye. Jo blue waali hai. Courier kar de." "T-shirt kyun?" "Teri smell aati hai usmein. Aur aajkal neend nahi aati — bina teri smell ke." Maine t-shirt courier nahi ki. Maine ticket book kiya. --- Airport — early morning. Maine usse nahi bataya. Surprise. Flight mein — anxious. 8 mahine mein bohot kuch badal jaata hai. Kya woh waise hi milegi? Kya main waise hi lagaunga? Kya awkward hoga? Pune airport — arrived. Ola book kiya. Uske flat ka address — yaad tha. 8 mahine mein nahi bhoola. Doorbell. Darwaza khula. Tanya — messy hair, Sunday wali look, haath mein chai ka cup. Mujhe dekhke — cup gira. Chai bikhri. Zameen par. "AARAV?!" "T-shirt laaya hoon. Personally." "PAGAL HAI TU!" "Haan." Gale lagi. Ek minute. Do minute. Chai zameen par. Darwaza khula. Padosi dekh rahe. Koi fark nahi. --- Poora din saath. Uska favourite cafe. Marine drive pe walk — "Pune mein Marine Drive nahi hai" — "Toh koi walkable jagah." Kothrud ka woh chota sa park. Shaam ko — uski balcony par. Pune ki thandi hawa. Chai — nayi, ye wali nahi giri. "8 mahine," usne kaha. "Bahut lambe the." "Phir kyun nahi aaya pehle?" "Kyunki... mujhe laga tujhe space chahiye." "Space chahiye tha. Par tere bina space — khaali tha. Sirf space tha — koi nahi tha usmein." Raat ko — return flight nahi thi. Maine one way li thi. "Kab jayega?" usne pucha. "Jab tu kahegi." "Toh kabhi mat ja." "Pune mein? Permanently?" "Nahi — mere paas. Permanently." --- Agle hafte — transfer request daali. Delhi se Pune. One way. Kyunki ₹4,752 mein ek ticket mili thi. Par wapas — waapsi ki zarurat nahi thi. Main ghar pahunch gaya tha.

Ankita — Bangalore mein. Software engineer. IST. Sahil — London mein. Data scientist. GMT. Fark — 5.5 ghante. Winter mein — 5.5. Summer mein British Summer Time — 4.5. Confusing? Bahut. Jab Ankita ki subah hoti hai — Sahil abhi soya nahi. Jab Sahil ka lunch hota hai — Ankita ki shaam. Jab dono free hote hain — koi na koi so raha hota hai. "Hum kab baat karein?" — yeh sawaal har hafte aata. Solution — "The Window." Roz raat 10:30 IST = Shaam 5 PM GMT. 45 minute. Non-negotiable. Meeting ho, party ho, kuch bhi ho — 10:30 par dono phone par. "Aaj kya hua?" — Ankita. "Usual. London mein baarish. Tujhe surprise karega kya — daily same weather." — Sahil. "Bangalore mein traffic. Tujhe surprise karega kya — daily same traffic." "Hum boring log hain." "Boring nahi — consistent. Boring aur consistent mein fark hai." --- Mushkil tab aati jab festivals hote. Diwali — Ankita ghar par, family ke saath. Sahil — London mein, akela. Video call — background mein patakhe, Maa ki awaaz, "beta mithai kha," Papa ka "camera idhar kar." Sahil screen se dekhta — aur muskuraata. "Meri Diwali tum ho. Screen par sahi — par ho." "Aise mat bol. Rona aa jayega." "Toh ro le. Main bhi ro raha hoon. Dono saath mein royen — long distance crying session." Dono hanse. Rote hue. --- Sabse bura din — jab Ankita beemar hui. Bukhar. 102. Akeli flat mein. Sahil — London se — kuch nahi kar sakta tha. Literally. "Dawai li?" — message. "Haan." "Khaana?" "Nahi." Sahil ne Swiggy se soup order kiya — Bangalore mein, London se. Delivery boy ko instruction diya — "Doorbell bajao, dawa bhi de dena — Crocin. Pharmacy se le lena. Paisa main online de dunga." Delivery boy confused tha. Par kiya. Ankita ke darwaze par — soup aur Crocin. Note — "From: London. With love." Ankita royi. Bukhar mein. Phone uthaya — "Tune London se Swiggy order kiya?" "Haan. Aur agar zarurat pade toh ambulance bhi order karunga — Uber se." "Tu pagal hai." "Tere liye — definitely." --- 2 saal. 730 "Windows." 1,460 good morning/good night messages. 4 visits — 2 London, 2 Bangalore. Phir — Sahil ka email aaya. Office ka. "Transfer approved. Bangalore office. Starting next month." Ankita ko bataya — phone par. Silence. 10 seconds. "SAU BAAR BOLA THA TRANSFER LE — AB LIYA?! 2 SAAL WASTE KIYE!" "Tujhse sun ke achha lagega — in person. Ek mahine mein." "Ek mahina? ABHI AA!" "Flight 14 ghante ki hai." "Toh book kar." --- Airport — Bangalore. Arrivals. Ankita ne board pakad rakha tha — "7 GHANTE KA TIME ZONE — AB 0." Sahil bahar aaya. Board dekha. Hansa. Gale mile. Airport par. Logon ke beech. "Ab koi Window nahi," Sahil ne kaha. "Ab poora din Window hai," Ankita ne kaha. 5.5 ghante ka time zone — ab same second mein dhadakta hai.

Airport ka Arrivals gate — sabse romantic jagah hai duniya mein. Red carpet nahi, marble floor hai. Chandelier nahi, tube light hai. Music nahi, announcement hai — "Flight 6E-201 from Delhi has arrived." Par jab woh gate se bahar aata hai — sab kuch cinematic ho jaata hai. --- Pehli baar — 6 mahine baad mila tha. Germany se aaya. Main khadi thi — board leke — "Welcome Back, Pagal." Usne dekha, hansa, bhaga. Trolley chhodke bhaga. Gale mili. Royi. Bahut. Gate par. Security guard muskuraya — "Madam, side mein mil lijiye." --- Doosri baar — 4 mahine baad. Is baar main Germany gayi thi — visit visa. Frankfurt airport. Woh arrivals mein khada tha. German winter — coat, muffler, thandi naak. Maine dekha — door se. Woh haath hilaya. Main daudi — suitcase chhodke. Side waali aunty ne suitcase sambhala — "Jao beti, suitcase main dekh lungi." Strangers bhi romantic hote hain airports par. --- Teesri baar — sabse mushkil. 11 mahine ka gap. Uski project extend ho gayi thi. Visa issues. "Agle mahine aaunga" — 5 baar bola. Main airport nahi gayi is baar. Ghar par thi. Frustrated. Thaki hui — emotionally. Doorbell baji. Maine khola — delivery samajhke. Woh khada tha. Suitcase. Bouquet — airport ki overpriced flowers. Aur woh muskaan — 11 mahine purani, par bilkul fresh. "Surprise." "Tu... kab... kaise... flight..." "Sab baad mein. Pehle gale lag." Gale lagi. Is baar nahi royi. Kyunki khushi itni zyada thi ki aansu bhi overwhelm ho gaye. --- Chawthi baar — last baar. Airport — Delhi. Arrivals. Gate 4. Flight — Frankfurt to Delhi. Permanent return. Job chhod di thi usne. "Kyun?" maine pucha tha phone par. "Kyunki 4 arrivals bohot hain. Ab departure nahi chahiye." Arrivals gate se bahar aaya. Is baar — koi board nahi mere haath mein. Koi flowers nahi. Koi dramatic run nahi. Bas — khade the. Saamne. 10 feet ki doori. Woh aaya. Maine haath pakda. Usne mera. Chale. Airport se bahar. Cab mein. Ghar tak. "Aur kabhi nahi jaana," maine kaha. "Kabhi nahi." --- Log kehte hain ki pyaar destination par milta hai. Galat. Pyaar arrivals gate par milta hai. Har baar. Rote hue. Hanste hue. 6 mahine baad. 11 mahine baad. Aur agar kismet achhi ho — toh ek din permanently.

Jab Vikram America gaya — MS ke liye — tab bhi WhatsApp tha, Instagram tha. Par Tara ne kaha — "Mujhe postcards bhejo." "Postcards? 2023 mein?" "Haan. Digital mein feel nahi aati. Likhke bhejo — haath se." "Tara, postcard 2-3 hafte lagta hai pahunchne mein." "Toh 2-3 hafte ka intezaar karoongi. Intezaar mein bhi pyaar hota hai." --- Pehla postcard — New York se: "Tara, Statue of Liberty dekhi. Bahut badi hai. Par teri muskaan — woh isse bhi badi lagti hai. Cheesy? Haan. Par sachchi. — V" Doosra — Boston se: "MIT ka campus dekha. Bahut smart log hain yahan. Par tere jaisa — jo Maths mein fail hoke bhi confident rahe — aisa koi nahi. Tu unique hai. — V" Teesra — San Francisco se: "Golden Gate Bridge. Sundar. Par Allahabad ka Sangam bridge — woh ghar ki yaad dilata hai. Aur ghar — tum ho. — V" --- Tara bhi bhejti thi — Allahabad se: "Vikram, aaj ganga ghat par baithi thi. Shaam ki dhoop. Tujhe yaad kiya. Jhooth nahi — roz karta hoon. Par aaj zyada. Kyunki aaj tera birthday hai aur tu yahan nahi hai. Happy Birthday. Yeh postcard late pahunchega — par pyaar late nahi hota. — T" --- Ek saal mein — 24 postcards. 12 uske, 12 mere. Har ek — haath se likha hua. Har ek mein — jagah ki photo. Har ek mein — woh feeling jo WhatsApp text mein nahi aati. Tara ne sab postcards ek string pe latka diye — apne kamre mein. Left se right — journey dikhayi — New York se California tak. "Mere kamre mein tera America trip hai," usne video call par dikhaya. "Aur mere kamre mein tera ek bhi photo nahi — kyunki tu postcards bhejti hai, selfie nahi." "Toh photo bhi bhejungi — postcard ke saath." --- MS khatam hua. Vikram wapas aaya. Allahabad station. Platform par — Tara khadi thi. Haath mein ek postcard. "Yeh kya hai?" Vikram ne pucha. "Aakhiri postcard. Padh." Vikram ne padha: "Vikram, yeh postcard nahi bhejungi — khud dungi. Kyunki ab dooriyan khatam. Aur ek baat — jo 24 postcards mein nahi likhi — aaj likh rahi hoon: Main tumse pyaar karti hoon. Bahut. Station se zyada — jahan se trains jaati hain. Sangam se zyada — jahan nadiyan milti hain. Allahabad se zyada — jahan main rehti hoon. Welcome home. — T" Vikram ne postcard pocket mein rakha. Aur Tara ko gale lagaya. "25th postcard," usne kaha. "Sabse achha." "Kyunki yeh haath se diya — haath se likha nahi." "Same thing." "Nahi. Bahut alag. Aur bahut achha."

"Main aa nahi paunga is baar." Yeh words the — screen par — Rohan ke. Canada se. MBA second year. Diwali ke liye tickets book nahi ho paye. "Bahut mehnga hai. Agle saal pakka." Nandini — screen ke is taraf — Lucknow mein. Muskaan rakhne ki koshish. "It's okay. Agle saal." "Tu gussa toh nahi?" "Nahi." [Gussa? Nahi. Toot rahi hoon — haan.] --- Roz video call hota tha — 9:30 PM IST. Rohan subah uthke karta tha — 12 PM EST uska. Nandini raat ko. "Nandini, tujhe pata hai aaj kya hua? Professor ne meri presentation mein A+ diya." "Wow! Bahut achha!" Par wow mein woh energy nahi thi. Achha mein woh khushi nahi thi. Duri — conversations bhi door kar deti hai. --- Ek raat — Nandini ne kuch alag kiya. Call se pehle — camera ke saamne pura ghar sajaya. Fairy lights. Maa ke haath ki biryani. Papa ki kursi — jahan woh Doordarshan dekhte hain. Bhai ki cricket bat — drawing room mein. Aur ek photo frame — Rohan aur Nandini ki, Lucknow ke Hazratganj mein li thi. Call connect hua. Rohan ne dekha — screen par ghar. "Yeh...?" "Tera ghar hai. Teri Diwali hai. Tu nahi aa sakta — toh main tujhke paas le aayi." Camera ghumaaya — poora ghar dikhaya. Maa ne haath hilaaya — "Beta, khaana kha liya?" Papa ne "jai hind" bola — jaise hamesha. Bhai ne bat dikhaayi — "Naya hai, IPL ke liye." Rohan ki aankhein bhar aayeen. "Nandini..." "Chup. Rona baad mein. Pehle Maa ki biryani dekh — screen pe hi sahi. Aur haan — tere liye ek plate rakhi hai. Rakh ke photo bhejungi." "Khaaunga kaise?" "Dekhke. Imagine karke. Pyaar se." Us raat — video call 3 ghante chala. Sabse lamba. Maa ne pooja dikhayi. Papa ne diya jalaya. Bhai ne patakha phodha — phone ke saamne. Aur Rohan — Canada ke apartment mein — akela nahi tha. Screen par — poora ghar tha. Poora pyaar tha. --- Agle saal — Rohan aaya. Diwali pe. Airport par — Nandini khadi thi. "Is baar sach mein." "Haan. Is baar sach mein." Gale lage. Bahut der tak. Aur woh video call — woh aakhiri nahi thi. Par sabse yaadgaar zaroor thi.

3 AM. Phone ki ghanti. Screen par — "Aarav ❤️" Naina ne uthaya. Neend mein. "Hello?" Silence. Phir — siskiyan. "Aarav? Kya hua? Tum theek ho?" "Naina... aaj bahut bura din tha." "Kya hua? Bolo." "Manager ne project se nikal diya. 6 mahine ki mehnat. Kisi aur ko de diya. Aur logon ke saamne bola — 'Not good enough.'" Naina bed par baith gayi. Neend udi. "Sun meri baat —" "Nahi, pehle meri sun. Main yahan akela hoon. Singapore mein koi nahi hai mera. Friends hain — par 3 baje kaun uthega? Maa-Papa ko nahi bata sakta — pareshaan honge. Tujhe call kiya — kyunki..." "Kyunki?" "Kyunki tu akeli hai jisko main kamzor dikhaa sakta hoon." --- Naina chup. 10 seconds. Phir boli — slowly, softly: "Aarav. Sun. Tu kamzor nahi hai. Kamzor log 3 baje call nahi karte — woh andar hi andar ghut te hain. Tu strong hai — kyunki tune accept kiya ki tujhe kisi ki zarurat hai. Yeh strength hai." "Par project —" "Project ja sakta hai. Tu nahi. Manager galat hai — tu 'not good enough' nahi hai. Tu itna good hai ki tujhe koi appreciate nahi kar paata — yeh unki problem hai, teri nahi." "Tujhe kaise pata?" "Kyunki main tujhe 4 saal se jaanti hoon. Aur 4 saal mein tune kabhi — KABHI — give up nahi kiya. Kisi cheez par. Kisi insaan par." Silence. Lamba. "Naina." "Hmm." "Thank you." "Iske liye thanks nahi bolte. 3 baje ki call — yeh hamara right hai. Tu kabhi bhi call kar sakta hai. 3 baje, 4 baje, 5 baje. Main uthungi. Hamesha." --- Call 45 minute chali. Baatein — project se hatakar. Aarav ka bachpan. Naina ki paintings. Woh trip jo dono plan kar rahe hain — Manali, shaayad. "Jab tu aayega India" — tabkuch boring baatein. Woh waali jo raat ko 3 baje comfort deti hain. Call khatam hone se pehle — Aarav ne kaha: "Naina, mujhe nahi pata ki hum kab milenge. 6 mahine? Ek saal? Pata nahi. Par ek baat pata hai —" "Kya?" "Ki 3 baje jab duniya so rahi hoti hai — meri duniya jaag rahi hoti hai. Mere liye." "Senti mat ho. So ja ab." "Good night." "Good morning — tere liye." "Haan. Good morning." --- Call cut. Naina ne phone rakha. Muskuraayi. Roti nahi — muskuraayi. Kyunki 3 AM ki call — woh sirf call nahi thi. Woh promise thi. "Main hoon. Hamesha. Door sahi — par hoon."