Adultery I Lost Mom to the Boy Next Door

[Joker44]

Dadar side ki purani society. Teen floor, narrow stairs, har kadam pe iron railing ka kaala paint chhila hua. Second floor ki landing pe do darwaze. Left wala Ramesh Pawar ka. Right wala mahino se khaali — lock pe dhool, nameplate nahi. Us waqt us khaali ghar ki koi kimat nahi thi. Koi nahi sochta tha ki do mahine baad wahi deewar itni patli pad jaayegi ki doosri taraf se aati huyi har heavy saans aur chudiyaan ki khanak is taraf ke kamre mein gunjegi.
Subah saat.

Kitchen mein fluorescent light thodi si flicker kar rahi thi. Gas pe chai ka bartan ubal raha tha. Vaishali ne doodh ka container uthaya, uski kalai ki curved smoothness light mein chamki, aur saree ka pallu sarak kar uske heavy, gol kandhe se neeche gir gaya.
Us subah woh 42 saal ki thi. Magar uski skin aur uske jism ki rounded fullness dekh kar koi uski umar 32 se zyada nahi keh sakta tha. Ghar mein uski umar koi count nahi karta tha. Woh Ma thi. Bas. Ek aisi Ma jiska jism cotton ki saree ke neeche bhi apni behisaab garmahat chhupa nahi pata tha.

Lambi, jet-black wavy baal — raat ka sarson ka oil abhi bhi jadon mein mehke hue tha — jise usne jaldi mein ek loose clip se baandh rakha tha. Centre parting mein halki si sindoor ki laal line. Gale mein mangalsutra, ek chhota sa gold locket kaale motiyon ke dhaage mein, jo roz ke kaam aur paseene se halka sa purana lagta tha. Wheatish-fair skin pe subah ki tapish aur neend ka natural glow tha — na kisi cream ka, na filter ka.
Left collarbone pe ek chhota, gehra kaala til tha. Blouse ke deep cut neck ke bilkul kinare pe. Jab woh chai ko chammach se hilane ke liye aage jhukti, woh til saaf chamakta, aur blouse ke andar se jhankti uski bhari, gori chest ka upper curve nanga ho jaata. Jab woh seedhi hoti, pallu khud-ba-khud us ridge pe wapas aa girta.




Ghar pe pehne wali simple cotton saree thi — cream rang ki, jis pe halka brown buta tha. Blouse simple, short-sleeved, lekin chahe blouse kitna bhi sadha ho, woh Vaishali ke heavy bust ko dabane mein naakaam rehta tha. Uske do bade, rasdaar breasts age ke hisaab se abhi bhi ekdam upar baithe hue the, blouse ke fabric aur tight bra ke cup ke kinaron pe severe pressure daalte hue. Har saans ke saath woh bhari chhati aage ko phoolti. Uski kamar ke paas soft pet ka ek chhota sa, makhali fold navel ke upar banta tha, jise saree ki peti aadha chhupa paati thi. Wide, flared hips aur thick, smooth thighs jo saree ke ghair ke andar se chaltay waqt ek doosre se ragad khati thi.

Woh mirror mein khud ko nahi dekh rahi thi. Woh chai ki ubalti huyi satah dekh rahi thi, aur uske lips — bhare hue, lower lip halka sa rasila aur bhara hua — chai ki bhaanp se seke ja rahe the.
Ramesh 57 ka tha. Dining table pe akhbar khol ke baitha tha, lekin uski aankhen akhbar pe nahi thi. Uske kandhe andar ko ghuse hue the, ek weak aur thake hue aadmi ka subah ka murjhaya chehra. Usne apni jawani mein Vaishali ke is bhare jism ko dekha hoga, par ab uski aankhon mein woh pyaas marta hua chiraag ban chuki thi.
“Chai thandi ho jaayegi,” Vaishali ki awaaz gunji. Thodi si bhari, gehri, aur thandi subah mein meethi garmahat gholti huyi.
Ramesh ne cup uthaya, aankhen neeche hi rakhi. “Priya uth gayi?”
“Nahi.”
Utna kaafi tha. Dono ne us naam ke aage baat nahi badhai.
Kamre se Arjun nikla. 23 saal ka. Baal geele, phone haath mein, oversized T-shirt pehne hue. Uski nazar apni maa ke jism pe nahi thi — kyunki woh unka beta tha. Uss ne kitchen ke counter ke paas se nikalte hue Maa ke haath se cup liya. Jab usne cup liya, Vaishali ke haath ki garmahat aur uske heavy torso se aati huyi soft body-odor Arjun ke paas se guzri.
“Thanks Ma,” usne kaha aur screen pe wapas chala gaya. Usne uski chehre ya jism ki taraf nahi dekha. Ghar ke mard ghar ki aurat ko nahi dekhte. Woh maan lete hain ke woh wahan ek furniture ki tarah hai — chahe woh furniture kitna bhi khubsoorat aur garam kyun na ho.
Vaishali lower cabinet se fridge ka darwaza kholne ke liye neeche jhuki.
Yahan pe pehli baar uska jism ghar ke roze ke kaam se alag, ek be-reham sensual roop mein ubhar kar aata hai.
Woh ghutno ke bal thodi jhuki. Cotton saree ki peti upar ko khiski, aur uske wide hips ka rounded shape saree ke patle kapde ko bilkul tight karke peeche ko phenk gaya. Blouse ka lower hook peeth pe tight ho gaya, uski gori, saaf peeth pe halki si crease ban gayi. Dono heavy breasts aage ki taraf apna pura weight daal kar aage ko jhuk gaye. Blouse ka gala thoda khula, aur mangalsutra ka gold locket un dono bade, gore golon ke beech ki gehri cleavage mein ja latka. Collarbone ka woh til subah ki flickering light mein poora nanga ho gaya.



Baal ka ek geela, kaala lock uske kaan se phisala aur uske gore gaal se hota hua uske full lips ke kinare pe aakar ataka. Usne apni gori, gol ungliyon se baal ko kaan ke peeche kiya. Us ek chhote se movement mein uske blouse ke side seams tight hue, uski armpit ke paas saree ka kapda khincha, aur uske jism ki aisi jawani jhalak uthi jo 42 saal ki umar ke bilkul khilaaf thi.

Woh 23 saal ke ladke ki maa thi. Woh abhi bhi aisi thi ke agar koi ajnabi use raste pe dekh leta ya kisi photo mein uski yeh rangat dekh leta, toh wahin thithak kar ruk jaata. Uski aankhen Vaishali ke bhare honthon aur uske deep cleavage pe atak jaati.
Magar Vaishali ko iska koi ehsaas nahi tha. Usne aloo nikaale. Pyaz. Haldi ki dibbi. Gas ki aanch ko tej kiya. Aisi subah pichle bees saal se chal rahi thi. Farq sirf itna tha ke Ramesh ki behen, Priya, ab unke ghar ki teesri saans aur sabse bada bojh ban chuki thi.
Priya gyarah baje apne kamre se nikli.
43 saal ki, unmarried, chehre pe hamesha ek kadwaahat aur baat mein kanakti huyi chidh. Bathroom se nikalte hi usne apne bhabhi aur bhai pe nishana sadha:
“Aaj bhi broker ne message nahi kiya. Ramesh, tu karta kya hai pura din?”
Ramesh ne akhbar ka page ghumaya, apna chehra chhupate hue. “Karta hoon na... baat chal rahi hai.”
“Tera beta dekha hai? Uski umar mein ladke set ho jaate hain. Yeh din bhar phone pe pada hai. Aur main... meri umar nikal rahi hai is chhotey se ghar mein—”
Vaishali kitchen se bahar aayi. Saree ka pallu kamar mein khosa hua tha, jisse uski tight waistband aur wide hips ka curved outline aur bhi saaf dikh raha tha. Uski awaaz low, serene aur gehri control wali thi:
“Nashta garam hai, Priya. Pehle kha lo. Phir baat karte hain.”
Priya ne Vaishali ki taraf dekha. Ek second ke liye us unmarried, boorhi hoti aurat ki nazar mein woh jalan aur barabari thi jo ek thaki huyi aurat dusri jawan aur bhari-poori aurat mein naapti hai — Vaishali ka saaf, bina daag ka wheatish chehra, uski gardan pe jhulti mangalsutra, aur blouse mein qaid uske heavy, jawani se bhare breasts jo 42 ki umar mein bhi tight the. Priya ke chehre pe ek kadwa sa expression aaya. Phir usne nazar hata li. Priya ko apni shikayat aur apna gussa zyada pyara tha.
Arjun ne apne kaan mein earbuds lagaye. Table pe uska phone glow kar raha tha — job groups, freelancer portals, thode se unpaid invoices, aur ek calculator screen pe open tha. Paise ki tension uske kaandhon pe ek bhaari patthar ki tarah baithi thi. Woh Mausi ko dekh ke gusse mein nahi tha. Woh hisaab-kitab mein tha.
Ek aur saal. Bijli ka bill. Ghar ka kiraya. Abba ki dawai. Agar Mausi ne apna hissa maanga toh ghar bechna padega...
Usne phone ki screen off ki. Vaishali ne aakar uske plate mein extra anda aur garam roti rakhi.
“Office late mat kar, Arjun.”
“Remote hai aaj, Ma,” Arjun ne bina upar dekhe kaha.
“Toh bhi naha le. Baal geele mat rakh, sardi lag jaayegi.”
Yeh uska pyaar tha. Chhota. Roz ka. Koi drama nahi, koi tragedy nahi. Magar is pyaar ke peeche jo jism tha, woh poore ghar ko ek garmahat se bhare hue tha.
Dopahar mein ghar halka aur khamosh ho gaya. Ramesh ne bedroom mein palang pe aankh band kar li. Priya apne room mein TV pe serial dekh rahi thi. Arjun laptop pe finger scroll kar raha tha.
Vaishali balcony mein kapde sukha rahi thi.
Yahan doosri baar uske jism ki aanch aur uske shapes ko slow novel ke andaaz mein dekho.
Dopahar ki kachi dhoop. Purani iron railing. Neeche society ka soona courtyard. Vaishali ne geela blouse rope pe latkaya, phir petticoat, phir Ramesh ki shirt. Jab usne apne dono haath upar uthaye kapde sukhanay ke liye, uske sleeved blouse ke neeche se uske dono heavy breasts poore weight ke saath upar ko uthe. Blouse ka kapda uski chest pe itna tight khinch gaya ki unka rounded contour aur bra ki patti ka pressure saaf jhalkane laga.
Saree ki kanhi uski smooth, bhari kamar pe tight ho gayi. Pet ki soft skin dhoop mein wheatish tone pe gold ki tarah chamki. Wide hips ne saree ke ghair ko bahar ki taraf dhakka diya. Uske lambe baal clip se nikal kar uski gori, paseene se bheegi gardan pe chipak gaye.
Paseene ki ek meethi, kachi boond uske kaan ke neeche se phisalti huyi collarbone ke us kaale til pe ruki aur phir uske blouse ke deep cut ke andar dono breasts ke cleavage mein disappear ho gayi.
Opposite building ki ek window mein koi aurat kapde daaltay hue dikhi, phir chali gayi. Koi event nahi hua. Sirf Bombay ki ek aam, aalasi dopahar.
Vaishali ne kapde daalte hue socha: Raat ko arhar ki daal rakhni hai. Priya ko maati ke bartan ke baare mein kam bolna hai, gussa karti hai. Arjun ka kurta silai se utar gaya hai, use bolna hai le aaye.
Itna hi. Uski duniya yahi thi. Ghar, kitchen, bachha, pati.
Shaam ko chai phir se bani.
Ramesh ne aaj pehli baar thoda zyada kaha, apni kamzori ko chai ke cup mein gholte hue.
“Priya ke rishte nahi aa rahe, Vaishali. Umar 43 ho gayi hai. Bolti bhi zyada hai. Koi rishte wala broker photo dekh kar hi mana kar deta hai.”
Vaishali sink pe bartan dhoyi rahi thi. Paani ki dhaar uske gore haathon pe gir rahi thi, kaanch ki chudiyaan aapas mein khanak rahi thi. Uski bhari hips sink ke edge se tiki huyi thi.
“Uske liye koi accha, seedha aadmi dhoondho. Jo ho sake karo.”
“Paisa kahan hai?” Ramesh ki awaaz mein thakawat thi.
“Jo hai usme manage karenge.”
Usne aur kuch nahi kaha. Ghar ki aurat jab kisi mushkil ka turant solution nahi deti, toh ghar ke weak mard solution galat aur khatarnak jagah dhoondne lagte hain. Woh yeh nahi jaanti thi. Usne cup ko kapde se ponchha aur rack pe rakh diya.
Raat ke nau baje.
Priya phone pe kisi door ke relative se unchi awaaz mein lad rahi thi. “Haan, yahi hoon! Kahan jaaun? Bhai ke ghar pe mera bhi aadh haq hai! Main apna hissa liye bina nahi jaungi!”
Arjun ke kamre ka darwaza halka sa band hua. Ramesh tired hokar bathroom chala gaya.
Vaishali hall ke kone mein wooden bench pe baithi thi. Raat ke is waqt usne apne baal khol liye the. Haath mein coconut oil ki chhotey dibbi thi.
Yeh uska aakhri aur poora private waqt tha.
Coconut oil ki meethi smell room mein phail gayi. TV mute tha. Uski gori, lambi ungliyaan uske lambe, wavy black baalon mein phir rahi thi. Sindoor ab halki si laal line ban chuka tha. Mangalsutra usne nahi utara tha — roz raat ko sochte waqt bhi woh ise nahi utarti thi. Gale mein woh kaala dhaaga aur gold locket uske heavy breasts ke beech ki ghaati mein aaram se baitha hua tha.
Ghar ki chhoot aur privacy ki wajah se usne apne blouse ke upar ke do button khol diye the. Koi dekhne wala nahi tha. Uske heavy breasts bra ke andar tight qaid the, har gehri saans ke saath aage-peeche uth-gir rahe the. Wheatish skin pe oil ka halka sheen uski lambi gardan se lekar uske chest ridge tak chamak raha tha. Full, bhare hue honth thode se khule hue the, aankhen thakawat se neeche jhuki huyi.
Woh khud ko kisi husn ki nazar se nahi dekh rahi thi. Woh sirf din bhar ki thakaan ko apne jism se nikaal rahi thi.
Kal subah jaldi uthna hai. Vegetable market. Arjun ke liye sardi ki dawai. Priya ko thoda shant rakhna hai.
Usne nahi socha tha ki koi uski photo banaye ga. Usne nahi socha tha ki uske bhare jism aur jawani ke glow ko koi bechega. Usne nahi socha tha ki agla khaali darwaza uski nayi duniya ban jaayega. Usne nahi socha tha ki uska apna beta ek din use 'Bhabhi' pukarega.
Usne baalon mein achhi tarah oil lagaya, mangalsutra ke locket ko ek baar apni gori ungli se chhua — jo uski saalon purani aadat thi — aur uth kar hall ki light band kar di.
Bedroom mein Ramesh pehle se so raha tha, deewar ki taraf muh karke.
Arjun ke kamre ke darwaze ke neeche se phone ki blue light phail rahi thi. Us blue light mein Arjun ki sirf aankhen chamak rahi thi. Screen pe calculator. Phir blank screen. Phir ceiling. Uske dimaag mein kitchen se guzerti huyi apni maa ka jism, uski Mausi ke taane, aur ghar ke harine ka hisaab ghoom raha tha.
Landing pe do darwaze the. Ek mein ghar so raha tha. Doosra abhi bhi andhere mein khaali pada tha.

Subah normal nahi thi.

Normal ka sirf ek jhootha aur thaka hua natak tha, jiske neeche ghar ke har ek insaan ki saans ghut rahi thi.
Saat baje bhi kitchen ki flickering fluorescent light ke neeche chai ubali. Ramesh ne akhbar ke kinare pakad kar cup uthayi. Arjun ne anda kaata. Vaishali ne gas ki aanch kam ki. Uske cotton saree ke saree-fall se aati huyi rasdaari aur aalasi garmahat subah ki thand mein phail rahi thi. Phir Priya aayi, aur ghar ka temperature do degree upar chala gaya.
“Aaj broker ne phir message kiya. Bol raha hai ladke walon ko meri umar zyada lagi. Shaadi cancel.”
Priya ne steel ki plate dining table pe phenki. Awaaz poore hall mein ek kadve shor ki tarah gunj gayi.
Ramesh ne apne sukhe hue chehre pe akhbar ka kone thoda aur upar kar liya. Weak aadmi ki aadat — jab shor ho, toh apna chehra chhupa lo. “Main... main phir se broker se baat karta hoon.”
“Kitni baar?” Priya ki awaaz mein ek zahar tha. “Teen mahine se yahi sun rahi hoon! Main is ghar mein ek bojh ki tarah padi hoon aur tum dono baap-beta tamasha dekh rahe ho! Tujhe sharam nahi aati, Ramesh?”
Vaishali sink pe bartan dhoyi rahi thi. Usne apni cotton saree ka pallu kamar pe aur tight dabaaya. Uski bhari kamar aur wide hips us kapde ke andar se ekdam ubhar kar aaye. Usne apna chehra nahi ghumaaya. Ghar ki aurat jab kisi doosri aurat ka shor aur jalan sunti hai, toh woh pehle bartan dekhti hai. Bartan safe ho jaayein, phir ghar ki shanti.
Arjun ke phone ka screen lock nahi hua tha. Calculator khula tha. Kiraya: 18,000. WiFi. Priya ki dawai. Ramesh ki BP ki goliyan. Uski apni pending invoice.
Agar yeh Mausi yahin rahi... toh ghar ki deewarein bechni padengi.
Arjun ne anda chbaya. Taste nahi aaya.
Priya ne kitchen ke darwaze pe khadi Vaishali ki taraf dekha, jaise use apni jalan ka witness chahiye ho.
“Bhabhi, tu hi bol na! Main bojh hoon kya is ghar mein? Tera pati toh munh mein dahi jama ke baitha hai!”
Vaishali ne sink se haath ponchhe. Uski bhari chhati cotton blouse ke andar se gahri saans ke saath upar-neeche huyi. Uski awaaz serene, low, aur control wali thi:
“Koi bojh nahi hai, Priya. Nashta thanda ho raha hai. Pehle kha lo.”
Utna hi. Na kisi ki side, na koi bada lecture. Magar Priya ko lecture aur hungama chahiye tha. Usne bathroom ka wooden door itne zor se maara ki darwaze ki purani kundi chhanak uthi.
Landing tak uski awaaz gayi. Neeche wale floor pe kisi ne apni window band kar di.
Ramesh ki ungli akhbar pe ruk gayi. Weak aadmi ka pehla reflex: Ghar ke baahar wale kya sochenge? Doosra reflex: Kuch mat bolo, Mausi ko shant hone do.
Vaishali ne Arjun ke cup mein thodi aur garam chai daali. Jab woh aage ko jhuki, uske sleeved blouse ke gher mein uske dono heavy breasts ka pura weight aage ko aa gaya. Mangalsutra ka gold locket un do gore, bhaari golon ke beech ki gehri cleavage mein ja atka. Collarbone ka woh chhota kaala til saaf dikha, aur jaise hi woh seedhi huyi, saree ke pallu ke neeche gayab ho gaya. Subah ki kachi dhoop uske wheatish, bina kisi daag ke glowing chehre pe seedhi padi. Sindoor ki laal line saaf thi. Baal aaram se baandhe hue.




Woh abhi bhi sabke liye sirf “Ma” thi. Kal raat wala sarson ka oil ab un black waves mein sukh kar unhe ek natural softness de chuka tha.

Arjun ne uski taraf nahi dekha. Woh calculator ka hisaab dekh raha tha.
Dopahar tak shor ek doosri shape mein badal gaya.
Priya apne kamre se kisi door ke relative ko phone pe unchi awaaz mein suna rahi thi:
“Haan, main bhai ke ghar mein hi hoon! Papa ne jo property chhodhi thi, usme mera bhi aadha haq hai! Main sadak pe nahi baithne wali. Agar shaadi nahi hui, toh main apna hissa bech ke nikal jaungi!”
Ramesh bathroom mein tha. Usne flush chalaya, lekin flush ke paani ki awaaz se pehle uski ek aahi aur ghuti huyi saans bahar nikli.
Vaishali ne bathroom ke paas jaakar kitchen ka darwaza halka sa band kiya aur Priya ko low voice mein roka:
“Ghar ke baahar yeh sab baat mat kar, Priya. Padosi sunte hain.”
Priya ek kadvi hansi hans di. “Padosi? Log toh dekh rahe hain ke main yahan atki hoon aur tum log aish kar rahe ho! Tera beta bhi dekh raha hai!”
Vaishali ke full, bhare hue honth tight hue. Usne koi jawab nahi diya. Usne apni saree ka pallu kandhe pe theek kiya — ek chhota sa self-control. Uske bhare bust ne blouse ke hooks ko phir se bahar ki taraf pull kiya. Woh is poore ghar ke klesh ko apne jism ki shanti aur sabr se sehti thi, awaaz se nahi.
Arjun apne kamre se nikal kar apne baap ke paas aaya. Ramesh hall ke purane leather sofa pe baitha tha, aankhen band kiye, par so nahi raha tha.
Dono baap-bete ki baat bohot dheemi thi, TV ke low volume ke neeche dabti huyi.
“Papa.”
“Haan, Arjun.”
“Mausi ki shaadi karni hi hogi. Kisi bhi tarah.”
Ramesh ne thaki huyi aankhen kholi. “Karta hoon na... par koi maanta hi nahi.”
“Aap nahi kar rahe ho,” Arjun ki awaaz mein gussa aur practical dimaag tha. “Teen mahine se same natak chal raha hai. Broker ko chai pilate ho, woh photo dekh kar reject kar deta hai. Result zero.”
Ramesh ka munh andar ko ghus gaya. “Umar 43 ho gayi hai uski. Bolti bhi... thoda zyada hai. Ladke wale photo dekh kar hi baat khatam kar dete hain.”
Arjun table ke kinare baitha. Phone screen neeche rakhi. Pehli baar uski awaaz kisi bete ki nahi, balki ek desperate business-minded ladke jaisi thi.
“Agar Mausi yahin rahi toh yeh ghar bikwa dega. Papa ke naam pe flat hai, par court mein case thonk sakti hai. Humare paas lawyer aur court ke chakkar kaatne ka paisa nahi hai.”
Ramesh chup raha.
Arjun ne continue kiya, apni ungliyon pe count karte hue:
“Hum matrimonial site pe profile daal sakte hain. Age 40 likh denge. Homely, simple. Demands kam rakhenge. Kisi widower ko dekh sakte hain. Broker ko thoda extra cash denge. Photo acchi honi chahiye, aur bolna kam chahiye.”
Ramesh ne ek gehri saans li. “Photo acchi nahi hai uski, Arjun. Aur nature photo se bhi jhalak jaati hai.”
“Toh nature aur umar chhupani padegi. Pehli mulaqat short rakhenge. Hum baat karenge, Mausi sirf smile karegi.”
Yeh unka plan tha. Galat, lekin abhi bhi usi aurat ke liye — Priya ke liye. Vaishali is poore plan ke darwaze ke bilkul baahar thi. Kitchen mein daal ubal rahi thi, aur woh bartan dho rahi thi. Usne kuch words ke tukde sunne, lekin poora map nahi samjhi.
Vaishali ne sink ke paas khade hokar socha: Koi accha, seedha aadmi mil jaaye Priya ko. Ghar shant ho jaaye, Ramesh ka stress kam ho.
Usne sapne mein bhi nahi socha tha ki is ghar ko shant karne ka tarika uske gale se mangalsutra aur uske maang se sindoor nikalne wala tha.
Shaam ko ek aur call aaya. Matrimonial broker ka.
“Rameshji, abhi ke liye baat ruk gayi hai. 43 age mention hote hi ladke wale turant piche hat jaate hain. Thoda budget badhao, tab koi 50 plus widower dekhte hain.”
Ramesh ne phone rakhte hue Arjun ko dekha. Arjun ne negative mein sar hila diya.
Budget bilkul nahi tha. Ek rupaye ka extra kharcha bhi unhe sadak pe la sakta tha.
Raat ke khane pe Priya ne phir se ‘court’ aur ‘hissa’ words use kiye. Ramesh ne aadhi roti chhod di aur uth gaya. Vaishali ne uski jhoothi plate uthayi, munh se ek shabd nahi nikala. Arjun ne roz ki tarah “thanks Ma” bole bina hi apni plate sink pe rakhi aur kamre mein chala gaya.
Ghar soya nahi. Ghar ek bhaari bojh ke neeche dab gaya.
Gyarah baj ke bees minute.
Priya ke kamre ka darwaza band ho chuka tha. Serial ki neeli light bujh chuki thi. Ramesh bathroom se nikal kar bedroom mein gaya aur deewar ki taraf munh karke let gaya.
Vaishali nahaane gayi.
Yeh uska roz ka aakhri private kaam tha. Garam paani se din bhar ka paseena ponchna. Phitkari se face saaf karna. Baal kholna. Mangalsutra utarna — taaki raat ko sarson ka tel aur sabun gale ki skin pe koi kaala daag ya rash na chhodhein. Sindoor ko geele kapde se ponchna taaki pillow pe laal daag na lage.
Blouse ke hooks kholna. Bra ke tight straps ko shoulders se hataana.
Bathroom ka chhota yellow bulb light de raha tha. Mirror chhota tha, neeche se kaala pada hua.
Vaishali ne apna mangalsutra aur sindoor ki chhoti dibbi shelf pe rakhi. Phir garam paani apne jism pe daala.
Jab woh naha kar passage mein bahar nikli, tab is ghar ki sabse khatarnak aur sensual cheez ekdam ordinary lag rahi thi.
Ek geela cotton towel uske gol kandhe pe tha. Baal khule hue, lambe, wavy, jet-black, paani ki boondom se bhaari hokar uski peeth ke beech tak latak rahe the. Maang se laal sindoor gayab tha. Gale se woh suna sona aur kaala dhaaga gayab tha. Usne koi nightie nahi pehni thi — ek purana, loose cotton maxi pehna tha. Gala thoda khula hua, kapda patla aur dhool-dhool kar soft ho chuka tha.
Wet hair se maxi ka patla kapda uske jism se chipak kar uske shapes ko bilkul nanga kar raha tha. Heavy breasts bina bra ke maxi ke andar jhool rahe the, unki bhari outline aur dark nipples ka ek halka sa raised shadow kapde pe saaf jhalak raha tha. Soft pet, wide hips ka bhaari weight jo maxi ke kapde ko dono taraf phaila raha tha. Wheatish skin pe paani ki ek aakhri line collarbone se neeche descending curve mein beh rahi thi. Left collarbone ka woh kaala til, aaj bina blouse ke boundary ke, bilkul nanga chamak raha tha.
Umar 42 saal.
Magar us peeli passage light mein... woh kisi bhi haal mein 36, 37 ya 38 se ek din zyada nahi lag rahi thi. Un khule baalon aur nangi gardan ke saath woh ek jawan, untouched aurat lag rahi thi.
Arjun kitchen se fridge se thanda paani lene ke liye bahar nikla tha.
Passage mein aate hi woh ruk gaya.
Usne apni Maa ko nahi dekha.
Uske samne ek aisi aurat khadi thi jiska gala khaali tha, maang khaali thi, baal behisaab khule aur geelay the, aur jiska jism kapde ke peeche se bhi kapde se kahin zyada jhalak raha tha. Munh saaf, full, thakawat ke baad bhi ek rasila jawani ka glow. Aankhen neeche jhuki huyi, apne lambe baalon se paani nikaal rahi thi.
Woh kisi ki wife nahi lag rahi thi. Woh kisi ki maa nahi lag rahi thi. Woh ek aisi ladki lag rahi thi jise agar kisi profile mein “38, never married, homely, fair tone” likh kar daal diya jaaye, toh hazaaron mard ek nazar mein us pe apna sab kuch lootane ko taiyar ho jaayein.
Ek second ke liye Arjun ki nazar uske heavy cleavage aur us cotton maxi ke andar jhoolte hue breasts pe atak gayi.




Usne turant nazar hata li, jaise uski aankhon pe kisi ne garam loha rakh diya ho. Uska dil zor se dhadka. Gunaah aur hawas ki ek ajeeb si lahar uske andar daud gayi.

“Ma... paani lene aaya tha.”
Vaishali ne towel se baal dabaaye. Uske liye kuch bhi ajeeb nahi hua tha. Yeh uska ghar tha, uska beta tha.
“Bottle fridge ke upar hai, Arjun. Thanda mat peena, normal paani le le.”
Woh palat kar apne kamre ki taraf badh gayi. Maxi ka patla kapda uske wide, heavy hips pe chipak kar aage-peeche hil raha tha. Collarbone ka til room ke andhere mein gayab ho gaya.
Arjun ne paani nahi piya.
Fridge ka darwaza abhi bhi uske haath mein tha. Cold air aur neeli light uske chehre pe pad rahi thi. Uske dimaag mein broker ki woh line kisi zeher ki tarah ghoom rahi thi — “43 age mention hote hi log piche hat jaate hain... age chhupani padegi...”
Mausi ki umar aur uska kadwa chehra nahi chhip sakta tha.
Lekin is aurat ki photo... is photo se duniya ka koi bhi aadmi dhokha kha sakta tha.
Usne ek second ke liye bhi nahi socha ki yeh gunah hai. Usne ek cold, calculate karne wale dimaag se socha: Switch. Same color saree. Last moment pe ghunghat badal denge. Ma ko toh pata bhi nahi chalega. Ma ghar se bahar thodi jayegi. Sirf photo hi toh hai.
Woh shaitani idea abhi bhi uske munh ke andar ek ghutaye hue zeher ki tarah tha. Baap tak nahi gaya tha. Maa tak nahi gaya tha.
Usne fridge ka darwaza maara. Apne kamre mein gaya. Bed pe let kar ceiling ko ghoorne laga.
Landing pe do darwaze the.
Ek mein woh aurat so rahi thi jiski mangalsutra aur sindoor bathroom ki shelf pe rakhe hue the.
Doosra darwaza abhi bhi andhere mein khaali pada tha.

Subah saat baje phir se kitchen mein chai ubali.

Farq sirf itna tha ki Arjun kitchen mein apni Maa ke kaam khatam karne se pehle hi aa gaya. Baal geelay nahi the, haath mein phone nahi tha. Usne counter se garam chai ka cup uthaya, lekin ek ghoont bhi nahi piya.
Vaishali ne bartan dhowate hue use kone se dekha. Uske cotton saree ka pallu kamar mein thusa hua tha, jisse uski bhari kamar aur wide hips ka curved outline saaf jhalak raha tha.
“Neend nahi aayi raat ko, Arjun?” Vaishali ki awaaz mein wahi roz wali rasdaar meethas thi.
“Aayi, Ma.”
Jhooth chhota aur thanda tha. Usne anda maangne ki zidd nahi ki. Usne hall mein apne baap Ramesh ko dekha — akhbar ke parde piche chhupa hua ek murjhaya, weak aadmi. Arjun ne socha: Abhi bolna padega. Baad mein Ma uth kar piche aa jaayegi toh baat nahi ho payegi.
Vaishali gas ki slow aanch pe thi. Aaj bhi mangalsutra gale mein tha, kaale moti uski gori chest pe jhool rahe the. Maang mein laal sindoor ki line saaf thi. Cotton blouse uske heavy breasts ko andar dabaane ki poori koshish kar raha tha, aur collarbone ka woh kaala til blouse ke pehle hook ke bilkul paas nanga tha. Kal raat wala, wet hair aur maxi wala sensual chehra ab is subah dubara “Ma” ke roop mein pack ho chuka tha. Arjun ne uski bhari chhati aur shant chehre ki taraf ek pal dekha, aur turant nazar hata li. Kal raat passage wali nazar ab bhi uske dimaag ke kisi kone mein zeher ki tarah ghumi hui thi.
Priya abhi apne kamre mein so rahi thi. Yahi unka chhota sa window tha.
Hall. TV band tha. Paper ka har panna Ramesh ke kanpte hue haathon mein hil raha tha.
“Papa.”
“Haan.”
Arjun purane leather sofa ke kinare pe baitha. Awaaz ekdam dheemi, jaise koi saazish ho rahi ho.
“Mausi ka rishta aise nahi nikalne wala. Broker ne kal clear bol diya. Age 43 sunte hi sab ladke wale hat jaate hain. Aur budget humare paas bilkul nahi hai.”
Ramesh ne akhbar ka page nahi badla. “Pata hai mujhe.”
“Toh ek doosra tarika hai. Aakhri tarika.”
Ramesh ki thaki huyi aankhen paper ke upar se uthi.
Arjun ne bina kisi b भूमिका ke seedha kaha. Na koi namak, na koi joke.
“Ma ki photo. Sindoor Photoshop se hata ke. Mangalsutra crop karke. Profile bio — Meera, 38 years old, never married, homely, fair tone. Matrimonial site pe profile live karenge. Jo rich aur achhi family wala ladka dikhega, usko aage badhayenge. Date aur wedding lock hote hi... last moment pe switch. Same maroon saree, same jewellery, Mausi ready rahegi ghunghat mein. Ma ko ghar se bahar nikalna hi nahi hai. Sirf photo use hogi.”
Kitchen se ek bartan ke girne ki chhan-chhan awaaz aayi. Dono baap-beta ek second ke liye ruk gaye. Awaaz doob gayi. Arjun ne phir se baat shuru ki, is baar awaaz aur bhi dheemi aur be-reham thi.
Ramesh ne akhbar table pe phenk diya. Uska chehra peela pad gaya.
“Paap hai yeh, Arjun! Dimaag kharab ho gaya hai tera?”
“Papa—”
“Teri maa ki photo? Unmarried dikhayega duniya ko? Kal ko pata chal gaya toh kya hoga?”
“Nahi pata chalega!” Arjun ne zor dekar dhyan khincha. “Hum sab handle karenge. Mulaqat short rakhenge. Ma waise bhi kam bolti hai. Date lock hote hi Mausi ko tayyar kar denge. Same colour. Ghunghat ka riwaaj bata denge. Bas, kaam khatam.”
Ramesh ne apna sar dono haathon mein pakad liya. Weak aadmi ka second reflex: pehle dharam, phir dar, aur aakhir mein sirf apna hisaab.
“Woh kabhi nahi maanegi.”
“Pehle photo edit karenge, profile upload karenge, baad mein use bolenge. Kuch nahi hoga usko, Papa. Aap dekhna, log photo dekh kar hi bina kisi demand ke haan bol denge.”



Yahi line Arjun ke munh se nikalte hi khud use kal raat ki woh peeli light wali passage yaad aa gayi — gale se suna sona gayab, khule, geelay wavy baal, patle cotton maxi ke andar jhoolte bhari breasts ka weight, aur bina sindoor ke 38 saal ka ek untouched, glowing chehra. Usne yeh baat apne baap se nahi kahi. Baap ke saamne “Ma abhi bhi ekdam young aur hot dikhti hai” bolna uske liye bhi namumkin tha. Usne sirf itna add kiya:

“Photo bohot acchi aayegi. Log ek nazar mein like karenge. Shaadi hote hi Mausi nikal jaayegi, aur flat pe haq maangne wala klesh hamesha ke liye khatam.”
Ramesh chup baitha raha. Ek minute. Do minute.
Kitchen mein Vaishali ne gas band kiya, aur paani ka pot neeche rakha.
Ramesh ne apni neeli, thaki aankhen neeche jhukai.
“Sirf... sirf photo tak.”
Arjun ne deep nod kiya. “Haan. Sirf photo.”
Yahi unka jhooth tha. Dono ne us paap ko chhota karke dekha taaki usko nigal sakein.
Nashta dining table pe aaya. Priya abhi bhi andar so rahi thi. Vaishali ne garam chai ke cup rakhe, aur phir ek pal ke liye ruk kar dekha — baap-beta dono ek saath ajeeb se khamosh the. Ghar mein jab dono mard ek saath achanak chup ho jaate hain, toh ghar ki aurat ko bina bole hi sab samajh aane lagta hai.
“Kya hua? Kisi baat pe tension hai?” Vaishali ne poocha.
Ramesh ne chai ka ghoont liya, bina Vaishali ki taraf dekhe. “Kuch nahi.”
Arjun ne chupchahi anda kaata.
Vaishali wahin khadi rahi. Saree ka pallu haath mein pakde hue. Blouse ke andar uski bhari chhati gehri saans ke saath uth-gir rahi thi. Usne zyada press nahi kiya. Subah ke bohot se kaam baaki the.
Priya gyarah baje uthi. Shor thoda kam tha, lekin 'court' aur 'property' ke sabdh phir se uske munh se nikle. Ramesh ne is baar koi jawab nahi diya. Arjun ne plate uthakar silent tareeqe se sink pe rakh di. Vaishali ke liye ghar ki yeh naye qism ki chuppi pehle wale hungame se bhi zyada bhaari aur darawani lag rahi thi.
Dopahar ke teen baje.
Arjun ne baap ko apne chhote kamre mein bulaaya. Phone gallery khuli thi. Purani shaadiyon ki photos nahi — pichle saal balcony mein li gayi ek photo, aur ek door ke relative ke ghar ki picture. Vaishali ne cream rang ki saree pehni hui thi, baal thode khule the, aur lips pe ek halki, rasili smile thi. Saree ke deep cut blouse mein uske bhari breasts ka upper curve clear tha, aur maang mein laal sindoor zoom karne pe saaf dikh rahi thi. Gale mein mangalsutra tha.
“Yeh sindoor software se hata dunga. Mangalsutra ko crop kar denge.”
Ramesh ne screen dekhi aur turant apna munh doosri taraf pher liya. “Baad mein karte hain...”
“Nahi, abhi. Raat ko hi profile live karni hai. Subah tak log interest bhejna shuru kar dete hain.”
Ramesh ne haath uthaya, phir haar kar gira diya. “Pehle Vaishali se baat kar. Usko pata hona chahiye.”
Arjun ko yeh step bilkul nahi chahiye tha. Usne socha tha photo pehle live karega, baat baad mein handle kar lega. Par baap is line pe aakar atak gaya tha. Arjun ko jhukna pada.





Shaam ke saat baje. Priya apne kamre mein TV pe serial dekh rahi thi, volume kaafi uncha tha. Yahi unka cover noise tha.

Vaishali kitchen se nikal kar hall mein aayi, haath geele the. Ramesh ne aahiste se kaha, “Vaishali, ek minute yahan baith.”
Woh sofa pe baith gayi. Cotton saree, blouse bust pe tight fit tha, mangalsutra gale mein jhalak raha tha, collarbone ka til dhoop-chhaon ki tarah kabhi dikhta, kabhi chhupata. Face pe din bhar ki thakawat ke baad bhi ek aisi glowing skin thi jo bio mein 38 saal likh kar bina kisi shak ke chal sakti thi. Magar use nahi pata tha ki uske saath kya khel ho raha hai.
Arjun ne seedha kaha. Is baar koi jhoothi b भूमिका nahi.
“Mausi ke rishte ke liye humne ek tarika socha hai. Teri photo ek matrimonial site pe daalenge. Naam alag hoga. Umar 38. Unmarried. Ek baar achha, ameer ladka lock ho gaya, toh shaadi ke din Mausi ko bhej denge. Tujhe kuch nahi karna, Ma. Sirf... teri photo use hogi.”
Vaishali kuch seconds ke liye bina palke jhapkaaye apne beta aur pati ko dekhti rahi. Phir uske dimaag mein poori baat saaf ho gayi.
“Nahi.”
Ramesh ne aankh jhukaayi. “Vaishali, sun toh sahi, beta—”
“Nahi.” Uski awaaz mein saaf aur sakht iqraar tha. “Main unmarried nahi hoon. Main Arjun ki maa hoon, Ramesh ki patni hoon. Yeh sab jhooth aur dhokha nahi chalega. Yeh bohot dangerous hai.”
Arjun aage jhuka, uski awaaz mein thodi zidd aayi. “Ma, chill na! Kuch nahi hoga. Bas photo dikhana hai unhe. Last moment pe ghunghat se switch kar denge. Tu ghar pe hi rahegi, koi tujhe dekhne nahi aayega.”
Vaishali jhatke se uth khadi hui. Uske uthte hi saree ka pallu haath se khisak kar uske bhari bust ke upar se phisal gaya. Mangalsutra ka gold locket dono breasts ke beech cleavage mein ja gira, aur collarbone ka woh kaala til ekdam nanga chamak utha. Uski awaaz dheemi rahi, par chhuri ki tarah kati hui thi:
“Meri photo nahi chalegi. Mera naam nahi use hoga. Jo bhi yeh ganda khel tum dono dimaag mein chala rahe ho, abhi ke abhi band karo.”
Woh palati aur apne bedroom mein chali gayi. Darwaza zor se nahi maara, kyunki woh hungama nahi chahti thi. Magar usne ek aisi sakht line kheench di thi jise todna paap tha.
Ramesh ne Arjun ki taraf dekha, jaise bol raha ho ki ab baat khatam ho gayi.
Arjun ne baap ki aankhon mein dekhte hue dheere se kaha, “Usne mana kar diya... par photo toh humare paas hi hai na?”
Ramesh ne dobara “paap” shabd nahi dohraya. Weak aadmi teesri baar bina ek bhi shabd bole jhuk jata hai.
Raat ke das baje. Priya so chuki thi. Vaishali ne apne baalon mein sarson ka tel lagaya. Is raat usne apna mangalsutra nahi utara — kal wali aadat tod di, jaise use dar ho ki ghar ke mard uske gale se use chhinn na lein. Palang pe leti hui, uski aankhen khuli thi, ceiling ko ghoor rahi thi. Usne socha: Kal subah phir se dono ko mana karungi. Yeh paap is ghar mein nahi hone dungi.
Usne apna phone side table pe chhod diya. Phone pe koi lock nahi tha.
Gyarah baje.
Arjun ne apni Maa ka phone nahi uthaya. Usne apne laptop mein purani saved pictures nikaali. Software open kiya. Red line waala sindoor erase kiya. Gale se mangalsutra ko crop karke nikaal diya. Ek photo mein Vaishali ki rasili smile zyada thi, cotton blouse ke andar se uske bhari breasts ka contour clear jhalak raha tha, baal khule hue the, aur skin pe wheatish glow tha. Usne crop ko tight kiya — face, smooth neck, aur bust ki upper line.
Bio text type kiya, clear English mein:
Meera. 38 Years Old. Never Married. Homely & Family Oriented. Living in Mumbai.
Ramesh bedroom ke darwaze pe silently khada raha. Andar nahi aaya. Uski awaaz mein dar tha. “Upload kar raha hai?”
Arjun ne site pe free account banaya. Photo drag ki. Upload.
Three photos live. Submit.
Screen pe green tick ka nishaan aaya.
Profile is Now Live.

Ramesh ne ek gehri saans li aur poocha, “Ab... ab kya hoga?”

“Ab so jao, Papa. Subah dekhte hain kaun is chehre pe rukta hai.”
Laptop ki screen band hui. Passage mein andhera chha gaya. Bathroom ka bulb nahi jala.
Doosre kamre mein Vaishali ne palang pe karwat li. Usne toh mana kar diya tha. Usne socha tha ki uska 'Nahi' hi kaafi tha.
Landing pe do darwaze the.
Ek mein woh aurat so rahi thi jiski photo ab internet pe “Meera” ban kar bikne lagi thi.
Doosra darwaza abhi bhi andhere mein khaali pada tha.
Us raat pehli baar paap ka khel ghar ki chardewari se bahar nikal gaya — neeli screen pe, andhere mein, bina uski ijazat aur bina uske jism ki razamandi ke.
Kal koi stranger us chehre pe finger scroll roke ga.
Kal koi ladka us bhare jism aur glowing cheeks pe like dabaye ga.
Kal tak, Vaishali ko pata bhi nahi chalega ki woh bik chuki hai.




Subah saat baje phir se kitchen mein chai ubali.
Vaishali ko zara sa bhi andaza nahi tha ki raat ko uska wahi gharelu chehra internet ki ek anjaani matrimonial site pe “Meera, 38” ban kar soya hua tha. Usne maang mein laal sindoor bhara, gale mein mangalsutra pehna, aur gas pe anda palaata. Cotton blouse ne wahi heavy bust ka weight uthaya hua tha. Collarbone ka woh kaala til kabhi dikhta, kabhi blouse ke patte ke neeche chhup jata. Ghar bilkul roz jaisa shaant tha. Sirf do mard aise the jo subah ki chai se pehle hi chup aur tense the.
Arjun ne chai ka cup haath mein liya aur apna phone screen neeche karke table pe rakh diya. Pehli sip lene se pehle hi screen pe notification flash kar chuki thi.
New interest received. New interest received. Photo liked by user.
Usne apne baap ki taraf dekha. Ramesh ne akhbar ka kone pakda hua tha, lekin uski thaki huyi aankhen Arjun ke phone par tiki thi.
Priya abhi apne kamre mein gehri neend mein thi. Morning window abhi bhi khula hua tha. Dono baap-beta kitchen ke bahar hall ke ek kone mein khade the, unki baatein TV ki aawaz se bhi zyada dheemi thi.
“Kitne aaye?” Ramesh ne dheere se poocha.
“Teen. Aur ek aur abhi aaya.”
Arjun ne phone ki screen on karke profile kholi. Bio unhone raat ko hi taiyar kiya tha. Saath mein demand bhi saaf saaf likh di thi. Chhoti line, seedhi bhasha, jaise aam taur pe shaadi ke is andhe bazaar mein log likhte hain:
Expecting well-settled match. Working in Mumbai or established business. Own house preferred. Family is expecting proper traditional jewellery, 25 to 30 lakh cash settlement, along with assistance for flat or vehicle as per status.
Arjun ne profile type karte waqt “dahej” shabd ka istemal nahi kiya tha, kyunki matrimonial sites pe woh word turant flag ho jata hai. Magar matlb aur nishana bilkul wahi tha.
Ramesh ne screen pe likhi demand padhi. “Yeh thoda zyada nahi ho gaya?”
“Agar kam likhte na, Papa, toh faltu ke time-pass log aate. Mausi ke liye itna paisa chahiye hi. Tabhi uska flat pe haq band hoga, aur humara apna hisaab bhi clear hoga. Ma ki photo hai, toh demand bhi usi level ki honi chahiye na.”
Ramesh ne aur kuch nahi kaha. Weak aadmi jab screen pe moti rakam aur numbers dekh leta hai, toh dharam aur imaan ko chupchap un numbers ke peeche bitha deta hai.
Pehli interest aayi: 41 saal ka aadmi, aam job, rented room, aur bio mein likha tha — simple girl chahiye. Arjun ne turant skip kar diya. Doosri interest: 36 saal, joint family ke saath, photo mein bike ki pic thi, aur likha tha — budget limited hai. Skip. Teesri interest: 48 saal ka widower, likha tha — kuch nahi de sakte, bas pyaar se ghar chalayenge. Skip.
Chauthi interest: Business, Andheri mein office, badi gaadi ki photo, aur message mein tha — can discuss expectations. Arjun ne is profile pe star mark kar diya.
Ussi waqt Vaishali kitchen se nikal kar hall mein aayi. Dono baap-beton ke phone ek sath screen-down ho gaye.
Usne unhe dekha. “Kaun tha subah subah?”
“Office ka kaam hai,” Arjun ne turant bola.
“Broker ka phone tha,” Ramesh ne ek second ki deri se bola.
Do alag-alag jhooth. Ek hi second ke fasle par. Vaishali ne chai ka cup table pe rakha. Apni saree ka pallu theek kiya. Usne koi sawaal nahi kiya, koi press nahi kiya. Ghar mein jab beta aur baap achanak screen chhupane lagte hain, toh aurat ki naak ko jhooth ki smell turant aa jati hai. Name plate shayad na dikhe, par klesh ki bu saaf aane lagti hai.
“Nashta garam hai, khaa lo,” usne bas itna kaha.
Woh wapas kitchen mein chali gayi. Uski bhari chhati aur blouse ka gher har saans ke saath upar-neeche ho raha tha. Mangalsutra ka locket un dono heavy breasts ke beech jhool raha tha. Kal raat wali “Meera” is subah wopar se pure taur par “Ma” ban chuki thi. Magar us matrimonial site pe uski woh rasili smile aur glowing chehra abhi bhi waisa hi zinda tha.
Dopahar tak profile pe likes ki sankhya gyarah ho chuki thi.
Do alag-alag mardon ne seedha message karke poocha: Jewellery kitna milega? Cash settlement ka kya scene hai? Ek ne photo ko zoom karke seedha likha: Face aur body dono bilkul match karti hain na?
Arjun ne mobile screen Ramesh ko dikhayi. “Dekh liya na, Papa? Photo apna kaam poori tarah se kar rahi hai. Ab humein proper filter lagana hoga.”
Arjun ka filter bohot simple aur sakht tha. Job title ya romantic baatein nahi. Sirf salary slip ka screenshot, business card, ya apna khud ka flat — wahi log tikenge jo 25–30 lakh aur heavy jewellery ki line sun kar dar se bhagenge nahi.
Ek aadmi ne direct call ki zidd ki. Arjun ne phone uthaya aur khud ko ladki ka “bhai” bata kar baat ki.
“Meera abhi ghar pe nahi hai. Aap family se baat kijiye. Humari expectations ekdam clear hain. Ladki bohot simple hai, pure gharwali type hai. Family ko future ke liye solid security chahiye.”
Yeh line usne kisi mirror ke samne nahi, balki apne dimaag ke andar poori tarah practice ki thi. Ladki. Apni hi maa ke liye yeh shabd bolte waqt uska gala ek baar sukha tha, par usne us thook ko aaram se nigal liya.
Samne wale aadmi ne kaha, “30 lakh bohot heavy amount hai yaar.”
Arjun ki awaaz cold thi: “Aapne photo dekh li hai na? Umar bhi sirf 38 hai, aur chehra dekh ke samajh aa jana chahiye. Demand usi level ki hai. Humein yahan koi time-pass nahi karna.”
Call turant cut ho gayi. Ramesh darwaze ke frame pe khada tha, uska gala poori tarah sukha hua tha.
“Arjun... tu baat kis tarah kar raha hai wahan?”
“Paisa nahi mangenge toh kaun dega, Papa? Mausi ko is ghar se nikalna hai na? Aur next door jo flat mahino se khaali pada hai, uska bhi toh kuch sochna hai.”
Ramesh ne apna haath hawa mein uthaya aur phir haar kar neeche gira diya. “Filhal... filhal agle darwaze wali baat mat kar.”
Arjun ne apni screen pe teen logon ki ek star list bana li. Unmein se ek ka naam Vikram nahi tha. Woh naam is chapter ke daayre mein abhi nahi aata. Abhi sirf ek nanga bazaar aur wahan ke daam chal rahe the.
Shaam ka waqt.
Priya achanak apna TV serial chhod kar hall mein aa gayi. “Broker ka koi phone aaya kya? Usne aaj subah bhi kuch nahi bola.”
Ramesh ne bina upar dekhe kaha, “Baat chal rahi hai, Priya.”
“Kis se chal rahi hai?”
“Ek achhi family hai.”
Priya ki aankhen achanak tez ho gayengi. “Meri photo bheji kya unhe?”
Ramesh ne “haan” nahi bola. “Tujhe sab bata denge, thoda sabr rakh.”
Vaishali kitchen ki bright light mein daal mein chammach ghuma rahi thi. Usne yeh ‘family’ wala shabd saaf sun liya tha. Kal raat usne saaf mana kiya tha. Aaj din mein ghar ke andar phir se wahi shabd ghoom raha tha.
Usne kitchen ke darwaze pe khade hokar seedha poocha:
“Kaun si family ki baat ho rahi hai, Ramesh?”
Arjun ne turant fridge khola aur andar jhankne laga. “Mausi ke rishte ke liye dekh rahe hain, Ma. Abhi kuch confirm thodi hai.”
Vaishali ne apne bete ke chehre ko ghaur se dekha. Ghar ka beta jab bhi jhooth bolta hai, woh paani ki bottle ko zaroorat se zyada der tak pakad kar khada rehta hai. Usne aage badh kar bottle uthayi, par uska cap nahi khola.
“Jo maine kal raat kaha tha... wahi sab chal raha hai na?”
“Kuch nahi hai, Ma. Chill maro.”
Chill. Kal bhi yahi ek shabd inke paas tha. Aaj bhi yahi hai. Vaishali ne cap ghuma kar paani piya, apni saree ka pallu aur kas ke tight kiya. Blouse ke hooks uski peeth pe kas kar khinch gaye. Woh chupchap wapas kitchen mein chali gayi. Usne apna faisla saaf suna diya tha. Magar is ghar ke mardon ne uske ‘mana’ ko utha kar kachre ke dibbe mein daal diya tha.
Priya ne mauka paakar Arjun ko passage mein hi pakad liya.
“Tu itna phone kyun chhupa raha hai, Arjun? Teri Maa bhi ajeeb tarike se chup-chup ghoom rahi hai. Yeh jo rishte ki baat chal rahi hai... kahin yeh Maa ke naam pe toh nahi—”
Arjun ne ek halki si jhoothi hansi hans di. Yeh bas ek test tha, koi pakka proof nahi.
“Pagal ho gayi ho kya, Mausi? Hum sirf aapke liye hi dhoond rahe hain.”
Priya ki gandi nazar Arjun ke chehre pe kuch second ruki, phir hat gayi. Uske paas abhi sirf chhote-chhote tukde the, poori tasveer nahi.
Raat ke nau baje. Khane ka waqt. Khamoshi ke sath khana parosa gaya.
Vaishali ne Arjun ki plate mein extra sabzi dali — yeh uski roz ki aadat thi. Uski achanak nazar Arjun ke phone pe gayi jo table ke theek neeche screen upar ki taraf karke light jala raha tha. Screen ke preview mein wahi cream saree wali photo dikh rahi thi — sindoor gayab tha, gala bilkul saaf aur nanga tha. Ek second ke liye saans ruk gayi. Arjun ne turant apna phone utha kar ulta kar diya.
Vaishali ki ungli plate ke kinare pe thithak gayi.
Usne munh se kuch nahi kaha. Magar usne sab kuch dekh liya tha.
Ramesh ne apni adhi roti chhod kar plate alag hata di.
Khana khatam hone ke baad sink pe Vaishali akeli khadi thi. Bartan dhohte waqt paani ke chhinte uske blouse pe pad rahe the. Uske heavy breasts har saans ke sath upar-neeche ho rahe the. Woh kaala til. Woh sindoor ka nishaan. Woh mangalsutra. Yeh sab abhi bhi uske jism par maujood tha — us screen par nahi, jise uska beta chhupa raha tha.
Usne man hi man socha: Kal subah in dono se aamne-samne baat karungi. Inka phone khol kar khud dekhungi.
Magar use yeh nahi pata tha ki woh account uske phone mein hai hi nahi.
Gyarah baj chuke the. Priya apne kamre mein so chuki thi. Vaishali palang pe leti hui thi, par uski aankhon mein ek boond neend nahi thi.
Hall mein laptop ki neeli light abhi bhi jal rahi thi.
Arjun ne screen pe likhi demand wali line ko ek baar phir se padha. Ramesh peechhe khada tha, haath bandhe hue.
“Kal subah inme se ek ko mulaqat ke liye bula loon kya?” Arjun ne poocha.
Ramesh ne dheere se kaha, “Wahi aadmi aane dena... jo 30 lakh sun kar bhage nahi.”
“Haan. Aur jo photo dekh kar wahin fass gaya ho.”
Ussi waqt screen pe ek naya popup flash hua.
New Interest. Profile viewed 6 times. Family well settled in Mumbai.
Naam wahan abhi bhi random tha. Chehra sirf Vaishali ka tha. Saath mein ek green tick aur ek naya message tha: Can come this week to meet. Expectations not an issue at all.
Arjun ne us profile pe turant star mark laga diya. Ramesh ne ek lambi aur thaki huyi saans li.
Doosre kamre mein Vaishali ne palang pe karwat badli. Mangalsutra abhi bhi uske gale mein tha. Lekin us internet ki duniya mein uska gala bilkul khali aur nanga bikne ke liye rakha tha, aur us khali gale ki keemat pachees se tees lakh rupaye plus heavy jewellery likhi hui thi.





Doosri subah bazaar ne aakhirkaar ek naam nikal hi diya.
Arjun ki screen pe ab koi naya ticket ya random view nahi tha. Ek aisi profile thi jo baar-baar refresh ho rahi thi. Same matrimonial account. Location: Andheri–Bandra side ka ek posh business hub. Business, own name, own number, aur gaadi ki woh saari shiny photos jo log sirf flex karne ke liye daalte hain. Umar: sirf 24 saal. Family background: baap retired-ish, uncle ek high-profile lawyer, aur maa active social circle wali.
Naam likha tha: Vikram Deshmukh.
Ramesh ne screen pe age dekhi aur thoda jhijhka. “Yeh toh bohot chhota hai.”
Arjun ne wahi demand wali line padhi jo unhone khud type karke daali thi. Phir usne Vikram ke message ka preview dekha jo screen pe chamak raha tha:
Expectations not an issue. Want to proceed urgently. Family can visit this week.
“Chhota hai, par bhaga nahi hai, Papa,” Arjun ne thodi confidence wali awaaz mein kaha. “30 lakh aur heavy jewellery ki baat sun ke wahan se bhaag nahi gaya. Yeh wala banda pakad ke rakhne jaisa hai.”
Ramesh ne is baar “paap” shabd nahi dohraya. Kal raat ke us sharmnaak khel ke baad se woh shabd uske munh mein aakar khud-b-khud feeka pad gaya tha.
Screen ke bilkul doosri taraf, ek raat pehle.
Vikram ke air-conditioned luxury flat mein halki thand thi. Gym se aane ke baad ki thaki huyi body pe sirf ek towel lapeta hua tha. Usne koi purani gallery nahi kholi thi — bas matrimonial tab open kiya tha, jo uski mummy ne use check karne ko bola tha, aur woh bas aisi hi mazak-mazak mein scroll kar raha tha.
Achanak uska thumb ek profile par aakar ruk gaya.
Meera. 38. Never married. Homely.
Pehli photo: cream rang ki cotton saree, baal aaram se khule hue, sindoor bilkul gayab, gala nanga aur saaf, wheatish glow, full bhare huye honth, aur aankhon mein ek ajeeb si gharelu shanti. Doosri photo: balcony ki light mein li gayi, jisme blouse ka gher aur heavy breasts ka upper curve saaf dikh raha tha, aur collarbone ke paas ek chhota sa kaala til chamak raha tha. Teesri photo: ek chhoti si smile, par kisi maa wali nahi — ek unmarried, thodi thami huyi aurat ki banayi huyi smile.
Vikram ne screen pe photo zoom ki.




Uski life mein 18 se 22 saal ki ladkiyan bhari padi thi jo uske ek ishaare pe piche ghumti thi — college ki gadiyan, dating apps ki match, ek friend ki ex, aur ek married aurat jo sirf raat ko milti thi aur apna naam tak nahi batati thi. Un sabko usne use karke chhod diya tha. Fast, easy, body tight, baatein kam, aur subah hote hi bed empty.
Lekin yeh photo zara bhi empty nahi thi.
Is chehre aur jism mein ek bhaari wazan tha. Honth bhare hue the. Chhati ka dabaav blouse ke kapde pe saaf dikh raha tha. Umar ka ek aisa halka aur soft fold tha jo chhupane ki koshish ke baad bhi us jawan jism mein saaf jhalak raha tha. Yeh aisi aurat nahi thi jo “baby” kehlaye; yeh poori tarah ek aurat thi. Uske dimaag mein jo gandi fantasy saal bhar se ghoom rahi thi — ek mature, gharwali face, aur ek aisi body jo married jaisi poori tarah khili ho bina kisi official married tag ke — woh saari fantasy is cropped sindoor wali aurat ke peeche bilkul nangi khadi thi.
Uska jism turant garam ho gaya. Towel ke neeche khichav aa gaya. Na koi sharm thi, na koi lamba calculation. Pehle uski mardangi jaagi, baad mein dimag ne socha: Yeh 38 ki hai. Unmarried hai. Homely hai. Agar yeh ghar mein aa gayi, toh bed pe bhi wahi ghar jaisa sukoon milega.
Usne turant screenshot maara aur apni mummy ko WhatsApp pe forward kar diya.
Yahi chahiye.
Do minute baad mummy ka phone aa gaya.
“Itni badi umar ki hai yeh?” mummy ki awaaz mein shaq tha.
“Pehle iski patrika match karwa ke dekh,” Vikram ne sakht aawaz mein kaha. “Tumne khud hi toh kaha tha pandit se.”
Yahi unke ghar ka sabse aasan aur safe darwaza tha. Teen mahine pehle pandit ne Vikram ki kundli dekh kar kaha tha ki early-20s wali ladkiyon se tension, health aur money scatter hoga. Kundli ki seedhi line thi: 30 plus umar ki ho, settled mind wali ho, aur ghar sambhalne ki samajh rakhi ho, tabhi shadi karna warna jeevan bhar struggle rahega. Family ne usi ek line ko apna sabse bada bachhaav bana liya tha. Jab bhi koi relative poochta, woh kehte — “beta ki kundli heavy hai, hum koi chhoti-moti ladki nahi la sakte.” Andar se unhe 38 saal ki umar heavy lag rahi thi, par bahar se pandit unke poore favour mein tha.
Vikram ko waise bhi kisi pandit ki koi zaroorat nahi thi.
Usne phone pe saaf keh diya, “Main bilkul mind nahi karta. Chhoti ladkiyan bohot dekh li, ab ghar ke liye aisi hi mature aurat chahiye. Sirf photo dekh ke final bol raha hoon. Meri taraf se ekdam YES hai.”
Mummy thodi der chup rahi. Phir boli, “Theek hai, main uncle se keh deti hoon baat karne ko. Aur demand ka kya?”
Vikram ne profile ka bio padha — 25 se 30 lakh cash, heavy jewellery, aur flat mein assistance.
“Koi issue nahi hai. Main khud dekh ke final kar lunga.”
Usne profile pe heart / like ka button daba diya aur message type kiya: Can come this week to meet. Expectations not an issue at all.
Phone side table pe rakh kar woh bathroom ki taraf nikal gaya. Thande paani ki dhaar uske jism pe padi, par dimag se woh fantasy nahi utri. Woh photo uski aankhon ke peeche chipak chuki thi — woh nanga gala, heavy gher, aur collarbone ka til. Usne socha ki agle hafte woh us aurat ko apne living room mein chai late hue dekhega.
Usne ek baar bhi yeh nahi socha ki woh chai laane wali aurat kisi 23 saal ke ladke ki apni maa hai, jise yeh log raste se hata kar kisi doosre ke ghar bech rahe hain.
Subah ke waqt Arjun ne wahi message utha kar apne baap ko padh ke sunaya.
“Family poori tarah settled hai. Uncle bade lawyer hain. Apna naya flat ka process chal raha hai. Aur demand wali baat pe unhone saaf likha hai — not an issue.”
Ramesh ke haath ka cup achanak table pe ruk gaya. “Lawyer... bade lawyer hain woh log?”
“Iska matlab unke paas paisa bhi hai, Papa, aur iska matlab yeh bhi hai ki humein bohot sambhal ke chalna hoga. Hum sab handle kar lenge, bas aakhri moment pe switch kar dena hai.”
Ussi waqt kitchen se Vaishali nikal kar hall mein aayi. Usne aate hi poocha, “Kaun se lawyer ki baat ho rahi hai subah-subah?”
Dono baap-beton ke phone ek sath phir se ulta ho gaye.
“Mausi ka koi door ka janne wala hai,” Arjun ne bina ruke ek jhooth fek diya.
Vaishali ne is baar unhe bina chhode ghaur se dekha. Aaj usne baat ko aage badhaya.
“Kal raat maine table ke neeche tum dono ka phone dekha tha, Arjun. Us screen pe jo photo thi... woh meri hi thi na?”
Poore hall mein ceiling fan ki thandi hawa ki aawaz ke alawa aur koi aawaz nahi thi. Priya abhi bhi apne kamre mein band thi.
Ramesh ne apni thaki huyi aankhen zameen pe jhuka li. Arjun ne is baar “chill maro” wala shabd tak nahi bola, kyunki ab waqt khatam ho gaya tha.
“Ma... woh sirf ek enquiry ke liye daali thi. Koi wahan se ghar pe nahi aa raha hai. Tujhe koi wahan lene nahi jaayega.”
Vaishali ki awaaz behad dheemi, par ekdam patthar jaisi sakt thi. “Maine pehle hi mana kiya tha. Yeh sab band karo.”
“Bas do din ki baat hai, Ma,” Arjun thoda jhuk kar bola. “Ek baar woh family aakar sirf dekh legi, uske baad sab khatam. Kuch nahi hoga.”
Woh wahi khadi rahi. Usne cotton ki saree pehni thi, gale mein mangalsutra jhool raha tha, maang mein sindoor bhara tha, aur blouse uske heavy bust ko kas ke qaid kiye hue tha. Us internet ki neeli screen par usi aurat ka gala bilkul nanga bikne ke liye rakha tha, uske jism ki keemat likhi hui thi, aur ek 24 saal ka bigdail ladka uske jism ke gher ko zoom karke dekh chuka tha. Usne is aakhri sachai ka ek aadhyaay bhi nahi jaana tha.
Usne apna pallu zor se apne kandhe par khincha aur palat kar wapas apne kamre mein chali gayi. Usne saaf shabdon mein apna mana dohra diya tha, par is ghar ke mardon ne uske us mana ko ek poora schedule aur booking bana liya tha.
Dopahar ka waqt. Vikram ke uncle ka seedha phone Ramesh ke personal number par aaya.
“Rameshji, namaskar. Beta Vikram ne photo dekh kar ekdam haan bol diya hai. Humari kundli aur patrika ke hisaab se bhi 30 plus umar hi bilkul sahi baith rahi hai. Hum log is baat ko zyada lamba nahi khinchna chahte. Kya aap log parson mil sakte hain? Meera ji ko ghar par hi rakhiyega, bilkul simple aur natural rehne dijiye. Demand aur baaki saari baatein wahan aamne-samne ho jaayengi, uski koi chinta mat kijiye.”
Ramesh ke munh se Meera naam nikalne se pehle hi Arjun ne jhapat kar phone apne haath mein le liya.
“Haan, uncle ji! Ekdam pakka. Parson shaam ko tea time pe aap log aa jaiye.”
Call cut ho gayi.
Ramesh ne kaanpte hue haathon se poocha, “Parson hi? Itni jaldi?”
“Jitna jaldi hoga, utna hi unhe sochne ka mauka kam milega, Papa. Humein bilkul time nahi dena hai.”
Arjun ne apne table ke calendar pe pen se ek bada sa dot laga diya. Sirf do din baaki the. In do dino mein uske chehre se sindoor hatana hoga, gale se mangalsutra utarna hoga, aur apni maa ko yeh kehna hoga ki “aapko bas chupchap baithna hai.” bua ko us poore din ke liye andar band karke rakhna hoga.
Uske dimaag mein abhi bhi wahi jhootha aur paap se bhara switch zinda tha.
Doosri taraf Vikram ne apne wardrobe se ek nayi brand-shirt nikal kar bahar rakhi jo usne khas is pehli mulaqat ke liye tayyar ki thi. Uske dimaag mein koi pandit ya patrika nahi thi. Uske dimaag mein sirf us cream saree ka wo bhaari gher tha, aur yeh ganda khayal tha ki 38 saal ki woh unmarried aurat jab uske samne aayegi, toh woh apne bistar pe bilkul homely nahi reh payegi.
Landing pe abhi bhi do darwaze the. Ek darwaze ke peechhe Vaishali ne apni aankhen band karke dil hi dil mein socha tha — parson main yeh paap apni aankhon ke samne nahi hone dungi. Doosre darwaze par abhi bhi wahi purana tala laga hua tha. Aur phone ki screen par Vikram ki taraf se bheja gaya ‘Yes’ poori tarah lock ho chuka tha.