[Joker44]

Haveli ke bade gate par security ne muskurate hue salute kiya. Dopahar dhali jaa rahi thi. Srivalli gaadi se utri jaise koi market se wapas aayi ho – peach saree, pallu tight, purse haath mein, muskaan taiyaar.

“Aa gayi, beti?” Maa ji ne darwaze par kaha. “Khaana nikalun? Bahut der kar di tu ne.”

“Haan maa ji… thodi baatein lamba khinch gayi. Main fresh hokar aati hoon.”

Woh seedhe bedroom gayi, darwaza band kiya. Sheeshe mein lipstick ki lakeer ab bhi hoth ke kone par thi, baal bigade, blouse ka ek hook khula. Usne saree, blouse, petticoat utare. Peach kapda farsh par gir gaya. Nahaane lagi – garam paani, sabun, hoth, muh, do baar kulla. Phir bhi zubaan par ek halka sa zaaiqa baaki tha.

*Yeh thi pehli keemat. Main royi nahi. Main nigal gayi. Queen banne ka rasta yahi hai.*

Usne ek simple off-white chanderi pehni – halki, koi zari nahi, blouse high neck, pallu poora seene par. Mangalsutra, taaza sindoor, bindi, saaf bun, koi lipstick nahi. Sheeshe mein wahi haveli ki rani wapas aa gayi thi.

Shaam ko Pushpa ji wapas aaye, kapdon par dhool. Srivalli unke liye chai le kar verandah mein aayi, unke baal se dhool ka ek zarra nikaala. Unhone uska haath pakad kar chai pi.

“Rani, aaj site par accha kaam hua. Teri politics ki baat pakki hui toh agle mahine naya godown sochunga.”

Srivalli muskurayi. “Hogi na, Pushpa ji. Aap chai pee lijiye. Main hoon na.”

Unhone usko dekha – off-white pallu, saaf chehra – aur chain se aankhein moond li. “Tu meri shanti hai, rani.”

Srivalli ke hothon par muskaan thi. Muh ke andar ab bhi, kahin gehra, dopahar ka nishan tha.



Raat ke saat bajne se pehle uska phone kampa. Jolly ne number pehle hi save kara diya tha – sirf ek lafz: Rudra.

Srivalli bedroom mein thi, darwaza band. Usne call uthaya. Awaaz wahi bhaari, malikana.

“Farmhouse. Aaj raat, nau baje. Akeli aana. Dopahar wala interview nahi tha… woh toh pehli kasauti thi. Aaj raat poori keemat chukani hogi. Ban ke aana. Rani jaisi. Wahi mangalsutra, wahi sindoor… aur uske neeche woh jism jo aaj meri lund par muh rakh chuka hai. Gate par meri gaadi hogi. Main khud kholunga darwaza.”

Phone kat gaya.

Srivalli haath mein phone liye kuch pal khadi rahi. Uski saans tez thi. Sharm wapas aayi, garam. Phir uske peeche woh bhook bhi aa gayi – ticket, takht, queen. Usne phone neeche rakha aur almari kholi.

Roz wali cotton sareein ek taraf thi – cream, gulabi, simple chanderi, subah wali peach bhi ek kone mein latak rahi thi, abhi dhuli nahi. Mandir wali pink Kanjeevaram aur kal wali black georgette ko dekh kar uska haath ruk gaya. Un kapdon mein bahut kuch chhupa tha.

Usne unhe ek taraf kiya. Haath andar gehra gaya, jahan tyohaar wali sareein rakhi thi. Ek gehri maroon Kanjeevaram nikal kar usne bed par bichha di. Pure silk, bhaari, wine jaisa gehra laal, kinare par mota sone ka zari border, pallu par kalash aur bel-booton ka kaam. Yeh wahi saree thi jo Pushpa ji ne ek Diwali par khud chuni thi. Tab unhone kaha tha, “Rani lagti hai tu isme.”

Ab wahi saree… kisi aur ke farmhouse ke liye.

Srivalli uske saamne bahut der tak khadi rahi. Phir bathroom gayi.

Pehle usne baal khole, lambi lehrein peeth par. Garam paani chhodha. Steam se sheesha dhundhla ho gaya. Usne naram, mehnga soap, phir body par halka sandalwood oil – Pushpa ke business ki khushboo, laal chandan, ab kisi aur ki raat ke liye. Woh dheere-dheere nahaayi, gardan, kaan ke peeche, chhati ke beech, kamar, ranon tak. Paani uske boobs se hota hua neeche bah raha tha. Mangalsutra usne nahaate waqt bhi nahi utara – kali ladiyan bheegi chamri par chipki thi. Usne unhe ungli se chhooa, aur chhod diya.

Towel lapete hue woh sheeshe ke saamne aayi. Baal geele, khule, kamar tak. Chamri par tel ki patli chamak. Body sheeshe mein saaf thi – bhari gol chhati, patli kamar, gol gaand. Stitches ab nahi rahe the. Yeh jism ab bhi hathiyaar tha. Dopahar yeh ghutnon par gaya tha. Aaj raat yeh poori keemat chukane jaa raha tha.

Usne pehle wine-color ka satin petticoat bandha, naada kas kar, itna ki kamar ki lakeer saaf dikhe. Phir blouse – wahi maroon, lekin roz wala nahi. Yeh blouse usne kabhi ghar mein nahi pehna tha. Silk, tight, sleeves almost nahi ke barabar, front mein ek gehri U-cut jo uske boobs ko neeche se uthati thi aur upar se itna kholti thi ki mangalsutra ki ladiyan cleavage ki gehraai mein do gold nadiyon ki tarah baith jaayein. Peeth par teen hooks, sabse neeche wala kamar ke ekdum upar, jahan ek patli si khuli chamri dikhti. Usne hooks lagaye. Blouse ne uske boobs ko zor se pakad liya. Saans lene par U-cut ki edge uth jaati, do gol halves ke beech gehra andhera.

Saree uthayi. Bhaari silk uske haath mein laga jaise koi raaj-paat ho. Pleats ek-ek kar ke sajaye, tight, saaf, unhein petticoat ke andar thisa. Pallu baaye kandhe se le kar seene par aaya – zari ka kaam dhoop nahi, ab kamre ki yellow light mein jal utha. Pallu itna bhaari tha ki baar-baar khisakta, uski U-cut wali cleavage ko chhupta aur phir phisalte hue ek baar phir dikha deta. Yahi khel tha is pallu ka. Yahi khel tha us raat ka.

Jewellery alag se nikali, dheere-dheere, jaise koi pooja sajaye.

Pehle mangalsutra – jo pehle se gale mein tha, usko usne theek se beech mein kiya, do kali ladiyan, mote sone ke pendants U-cut ki gehraai mein bitha diye. Hatane ka khayal aaya, ek pal ke liye, bahut tez. *Aaj raat yeh nishan lekar jaaungi? Unke ghar, unke bistar?* Phir usne ladi ko jaisa tha waisa hi rehne diya.

*Nahi. Yeh utarungi nahi. Main Pushpa ki rani hokar hi jaaungi. Aur wahi reh kar… unka takht bhi loongi.*

Phir ek mota gold har, mangalsutra ke upar, jo seene ki shuruaat par ruka. Kaan mein bhaari kundan-gold jhumke, itne lambe ki gardan ko chhoote. Naak mein wahi chhota pin. Maang mein gehri, taaza, geeli si sindoor ki rekha, maathe par thodi badi bindi, laal. Haathon mein saat-saat gold bangles, tight, chalte hi awaaz. Ek patli si gold payal, bas itni ki saree ke neeche se kabhi-kabhi chamke. Baal usne poore nahi baandhe – geele-sookhte lambe baal ek low bun mein kiye, lekin kaafi lehrein kaan ke saath, gardan par, chameli ki ek chhoti si gajra bun ke kinare. Gardan, kaan ke peeche, aur blouse ki U-cut ke beech, usne sandalwood attar ki ek-ek boond lagayi. Hothon par maroon lipstick, gehri, jo dopahar wali se zyada tikhi thi. Aankhon mein halka kaajal.

Sheeshe mein jo aurat khadi thi, woh isi haveli ki pativrata rani thi – wahi sharif chehra, wahi suhag, wahi mangalsutra. Lekin kapda keh raha tha – yeh aurat aaj raat mandir nahi jaa rahi. Yeh takht maangne jaa rahi hai.

Srivalli ne pallu ko ek baar hataya, sirf itna ki woh apne aap ko dekh sake. U-cut, cleavage, mangalsutra, blouse mein uthe hue boobs, patli kamar, bhaari maroon silk uski gaand aur ranon par lipata hua, zari ka kinara pairon ke paas chamak raha tha. Ek ajeeb si garmi pet ke neeche utri – dar, sharm, aur power ki chah. Dopahar ke muh ki yaad. Uska jism jaanta tha kya hona wala hai… aur phir bhi woh taiyaar thi.

*Sab iska fayda uthate rahe. Ab main khud uthungi. Aaj raat poori keemat dungi. Ticket loongi.*

Usne pallu wapas seene par lapet liya, itna theek ki ghar mein koi yehi kahe – rani kisi izzatdaar party mein jaa rahi hai. Sheeshe mein uski aankhein thahar gayi. Usne dheere se ek hi lafz kaha.

“Haan.”



Shaam ko khaane ki mez par chaar log the – Pushpa ji, maa ji, Srivalli, aur college se wapas aayi Kaveri, jo chup-chaap roti nikaal rahi thi.

Pushpa ji ne niwala lete hue Srivalli ki taraf dekha, aur haath ruk gaya. Unki nazar uski maroon Kanjeevaram par, zari ke kinare par, jhumkon par, phir uske chehre par ruki. Unki aankhon mein ek purana, seedha sa pyar aa gaya.

“Rani… aaj toh tu bilkul dulhan lag rahi hai. Yeh wahi Diwali wali saree hai na? Kahan jaana hai?”

Srivalli ne pallu sambhala. Awaaz bilkul seedhi rakhi, jaise koi ghar ki baat ho. “Party ka interview hai, Pushpa ji. Ticket ke liye. Jolly bete ne arrange kiya hai, party ke logon se milna hai. Thoda late ho sakti hoon.”

Pushpa ji turant muskuraye, jaise unhe koi shak ho hi nahi sakta tha. Unhone thali ke kinare haath rakha, garv se, jaise yeh izzat unki ho.

“Achha kiya, rani. Meri rani jab party ke saamne jaayegi, toh kaun na ticket dega. Jolly ke through hi sab nikalega. Uske baapu CM hain, unki meherbani se hi main bahar aaya. Tu tension mat le. Main proud hoon tera. Driver bhej doon?”

“Nahi Pushpa ji,” Srivalli ne muskurate hue kaha. Uski choodiyan halki si baj uthi. “Main khud chali jaaungi. Aap rest kariye. Aap thake hue hain. Main sambhal lungi.”

Maa ji ne bhi uski ban-than par ek nazar daali, khush hokar. “Sahi hai beti… agar nai nai baatein seekhni hain toh seekh. Ghar ki rani bahar bhi rani hi dikhni chahiye.”

Kaveri ne utha kar ek nazar uski taraf dekhi. Kuch kaha nahi. Sirf roti ko do hisson mein toda, aur maa ji ki thali mein ek piece rakh diya. Phir apne plate mein dekhne lagi. Srivalli ne us nazar ko ek halki muskaan se utha liya, jaise ghar ki badi le leti hai, aur baat aage badha di.

Khaana khatam hua. Maa ji thaliyan le kar kitchen chali gayi. Kaveri unke peeche-peeche gayi, bartan dhone. Pushpa ji sofa par let gaye, TV ki halki awaaz mein, aankhein bojhili.

Srivalli unke paas gayi aur unke maathe par haath pher diya. Unhone uska haath pakad liya.

“Rani… politics mein gande log hote hain. Koi tujhe takleef de, toh turant batana. Main hoon na.”

Srivalli ke gale mein kuch phans sa gaya. Woh jhuk kar unke maathe par hoth rakh diye, itna tez nahi ki lipstick chhoot jaaye. “Aap chinta mat kariye, Pushpa ji. Party ka interview hai… main jaanti hoon main kya kar rahi hoon. Aap so jaaiye.”

Unhone uske haath ko apne gaal se lagaya. “Meri rani. Ja… unko dikha dena ki Pushpa ki rani kaisi hoti hai. Main tera intezaar karunga.” Do minute mein unki saans bhaari ho gayi. Neend aa gayi, poori befikr, apni rani par proud hote hue.

Srivalli unhe dekhti rahi. Ek pal ke liye irada kaanpa. *Abhi unko jagaa doon. Abhi yeh saree utar doon.* Phir usne haath chhudaaya, pallu theek kiya, purse uthaya.

Usne dheere se kaha, “Main haan bol chuki hoon.”



Gaadi haveli ke bade gate se nikli to security guard ne phir se salute kiya. Bahar raat ho chuki thi. Maroon Kanjeevaram ki zari gaadi ki andheri seat par bhi kabhi-kabhi street-light mein jal jaati. Pallu seene par tight tha, lekin U-cut ke neeche mangalsutra ki moti saans ke saath chamak rahi thi. Sheher ke lights peeche chhootne lage, rasta jungle ki taraf mudne laga.

Phone ke screen par Rudra ka last message jal raha tha.

Rudra: Farmhouse. 9 sharp. Akeli aana. Main darwaza kholunga.

Srivalli ne phone neeche rakha. Dono haath steering par the. Choodiyan gear badalte hue halki si baj uthi. Pallu ke neeche dil dhol ki tarah peet raha tha. Kabhi lagta tha gaadi mor de, haveli wapas chali jaaye. Kabhi lagta tha speed aur badha de. Muh mein, kahin gehra, dopahar wala zaaiqa wapas aa gaya tha.

*Yeh meri marzi hai. Dopahar interview tha. Aaj raat keemat hai. Main khud jaa rahi hoon.*

Aage, pedon ke beech, farmhouse ke lights dikhai diye – lohe ke gate, lambi driveway, door safed kothi, verandah par garam peeli light. Gate andar se khul gaya. Srivalli ne gaadi driveway par chadhai.

Woh gaadi kothi ke seenon ke neeche roki. Engine band kiya. Ek lamba saans liya. Sheeshe mein ek nazar – pallu, bindi, sindoor, jhumke, U-cut mein mangalsutra, woh pativrata chehra jo is sheher ka sabse bada jhooth bhi tha, aur sabse bada hathiyaar bhi.

Usne lipstick theek ki. Pallu ek baar lapeta, phir thoda dheela chhod diya. Gaadi ka darwaza khola. Maroon silk pairon ke aas-paas faila. Payal ki ek chhoti si awaaz. Chandan attar raat ki hawa mein nikal aaya.

Woh seenon par chadhne lagi.

Upar, verandah ki peeli light mein, darwaza khul gaya.

CM Rudra Reddy khud khade the. Safed shirt ke do buttons khule, haath mein whiskey ka glass, nazar oonche se neeche tak utarti hui – jhumke, sindoor, pallu, U-cut, mangalsutra, bhaari maroon silk, uske pair.

Unke hothon par wohi malikana muskaan thi jo dopahar guesthouse mein thi.

“Aa ja, rani,” unhone kaha, darwaza aur kholte hue. “Interview toh ho chuka. Ab raat teri hai… aur meri bhi.”

Srivalli ek pal seenon par ruki. Pallu haath mein, mangalsutra chhati par, andar sharm aur bhook, aur woh haan jo usne khud se kahi thi. Woh aage badhi.