[Joker44]

Ticket ke doosre din se haveli ka subah badal gaya. Verandah par posters ke bundle the, Srivalli ka chehra un par muskurata hua, pallu theek, sindoor saaf, neeche party ka naam aur “Srivalli Pushpa Raj” likha hua. Dhoop abhi naram thi, mitti ki khushboo aangan mein thi, aur maa ji kitchen se chai ke saath baar-baar nikal kar un bundles ko dekh rahi thi, jaise koi prasad dekhe. Pushpa ji khud un bundles ko haath se ginte, beedi honth par, aankhon mein woh junoon jo jungle se sheher tak aata hai.

“Rani, aaj pehli rally hai, panchayat ground par,” unhone kaha, ek poster uthate hue, uske chehre ko apni rani se milate hue. “Main tere peeche khada hoonga, tu bol, main goli bhi kha lunga, lekin tu kaampegi nahi. Theek hai na? Log tera naam lenge, kuch log mera, aur kuch log woh nikaalenge jo nikaalna chahte hain. Tu mic par seedhi rahiye, main dekh loonga.”

Srivalli andar se nikal kar unke saamne chai rakhne aayi thi, aaj ki saree ek taaza safed-lal cotton-silk, lal border, simple gold jhumke, mangalsutra bahar, pallu tight, neeche lal blouse, sleeves kohni tak, peeth par teen chhote hooks, maang mein sindoor ki saaf rekha, chhote tops, do patli choodiyan, payal nahi, taaki stage par awaaz kapde ki ho, zevar ki nahi. Yeh kothi wali rani ki soorat nahi thi. Yeh ummeedwaar ki soorat thi, jo pehli baar janata ke saamne jaaye. Usne tray neeche rakha, unke kandhe ke peeche kursi kheench kar baithi, aur awaaz ghar wali, naram, lekin seedhi rakhi.

“Haan, Pushpa ji, main nahi kaanpungi,” usne kaha, unki aankhon mein dekhte hue. “Aap mere peeche rahiye, aage meri awaaz hogi. Bas itna: koi utpat ho to aap gusse mein aage mat nikal jaana, mujhe pata karne dijiye. Meri politics meri hai, aapki goli aapki, dono ka hisaab alag rahe to achha hai. Aaj meri pehli speech hai, main usko goli se nahi, lafz se nikalna chahti hoon.”

Unhone hans kar uska haath pakada, apni badi, kaathi hui hatheli mein. “Tu rani bhi hai, minister bhi banne wali hai, meri sherni bhi hai. Lafz tere, goli meri, theek hai, aaj ke liye. Chalo, gaadi khadi hai. Maa, tu ghar rahiye, radio par sun lena, hum shaam se pehle wapas.”

Maa ji kitchen ke darwaze par khadi ho gayi, aanchal se aankh ponchhti hui, lekin muskurati hui. “Ja, beti, muh dekh ke baat karna, zyada nahi jhukna. Hamari bahu hai tu, aaj sheher bhi yeh baat sunega. Prasad le ke nahi, apni soorat le ke ja.” Srivalli ne unke pair chhue, pallu theek kiya, aur jeeb ke peeche woh soch daba li jo keh rahi thi ki aaj ki soorat ke peeche kal raat ke teen chehre bhi hain, jo posters par nahi chhapenge. *Aaj meri pehli taali nikalni hai, aur meri pehli file bhi. Shekhar Goud ka naam meri yaad mein baitha hai, lekin aaj main us naam se nahi, apne lafz se nikalungi.*

Panchayat ground par dhoop tez thi, mitti uth rahi thi, loudspeaker pehle kharab tha, phir theek hua, aur auratein konon mein pallu le kar khadi thi, mard aage, bachche stage ke kinare. Ek taraf party ke jhande the, doosri taraf kuch logon ke haath mein saade posters, aur beech mein woh mitti ka ground jahan se awaaz uthni thi. Srivalli jeep se utri, safed-lal cotton-silk ki pleats dhoop mein chamki, lal border uski ranon ke ghere par, pallu seene par kasa, mangalsutra bahar, jhumke chhote, sindoor saaf, jaise koi asal mein janata ke beech aayi ho, kothi se nahi. Pushpa ji ek kadam peeche the, kali shirt, aankhon mein ghamand aur chinta dono, Raka aur Kesari convoy ke kinare, aur Jolly party ke logon ke saath, muskaan camera ke liye.

Jolly uske kareeb aaye, short, dheemi awaaz, taaki bheed na sune. “Bhabhi, mic par seedhi rahiye, lamba mat kijiye, paani aur mandi ka naam le lijiye, Shekhar ka mat. Aaj pehli taali nikalni hai, pehli ladai nahi. Main kinare hoon, baap ji ko report jaayegi.”

Srivalli ne unki taraf sirf itna kaha, muskaan bahar, hisaab andar, “Aap kinare rahiye, Jolly. Aaj meri awaaz meri hai. Jo naam lena hai, main soch kar lungi.” Phir woh stage ke wood par chadh gayi, heels nahi, simple chappal, taaki mitti mein phislein nahi, aur mic haath mein liya.

Awaaz shuru mein kaanpi, ek pal ke liye usko farmhouse ki peeli light yaad aa gayi, dinner ki mez, dono haath, vermilion Banarasi, phir usne saans bhari aur awaaz seedhi ki, jaise dining hall mein seedhi hui thi. “Namaste. Main koi badi neta nahi, main is sheher ki bahu hoon, Pushpa Raj ki patni hoon, aur aaj main aapse apni kursi nahi, aapka saath maangne aayi hoon. Jo kaam andhere mein hota tha, usko roshni chahiye, aur roshni meri soorat se nahi, mere kaam se aani chahiye. Aapke port par, aapke mandi mein, aapke ghar tak, main wada karti hoon ki meri file aapki file rahegi.”

Bheed ne taali bajayi, kuch logon ne Pushpa ka naam bhi liya, “Pushpa Raj zindabad,” aur ek kone se kuch logon ne “Shekhar Goud zindabad” bhi kaha, lekin woh awaaz dabi reh gayi. Srivalli ne us kone ki taraf ek pal dekha, chehre saaf nahi the, lekin irada saaf tha. *Yeh meri pehli taali hai, aur yeh meri pehli chitauni bhi hai. Main kaanpungi nahi.* Usne mic ko dono haathon mein liya, pallu hawa se bachate hue, aur aage kaha, “Mandi mein line kam honi chahiye, paani ka hisaab saaf hona chahiye, aur auraton ko sirf vote nahi, line mein bhi jagah chahiye. Main aapka muh nahi meetha karne aayi, main aapka kaam lene aayi hoon. Jo goli se baat karega, uska jawab meri party ke paas hai, lekin pehle meri awaaz sun lijiye: main yahan se hatne wali nahi.”

Taali is baar tez hui. Pushpa ji ke honth par proud ki muskaan thi, Jolly ne phone par kuch type kiya, aur kone wale logon ne munh phira, jaise aaj ke liye itna kaafi ho. Srivalli ne mic neeche rakha, haath jod kar, aur stage se utarti hue Pushpa ji ka haath ek pal ke liye apni hatheli mein liya. Unki hatheli garam thi, uski thandi, aur unki awaaz mein proud tha.

“Theek thi, rani,” unhone kaha. “Tu boli, logon ne suna. Woh kone wale main dekh liya, aaj unko chhoda, kal nahi chhodunga. Ab ghar nahi, ek nazar godown par, phir haveli. Campaign ke beech bhi kaam nahi rukna chahiye.”

“Theek hai,” usne kaha, gaadi ki taraf chalte hue, pallu god mein sambhalte hue. “Lekin aap aage mat nikalna, main saath hoon. Aaj meri pehli speech nikal gayi, ab meri pehli nazar bhi nikalni hai, is raste par, is kaam par. Phone mere haath mein rahega.”

Rally ke baad convoy wapas haveli ke raste nahi, godown ke raste gaya, kyunki Pushpa ji ne kaha tha ek nazar timber par daalni hai. Do jeep aage, unki gaadi beech mein, Raka pichhli jeep mein, mitti ka rasta, ped dono taraf, aur dhoop ab dhalne lagi thi. Srivalli unki gaadi mein thi, pallu god mein, phone mein Prakash Naidu ka number pehle se khola hua, jo usne dinner ke baad save kar liya tha. Safed-lal saree ki pleats seat par faili thi, lal blouse ki kali uski saans ke saath uth-gir rahi thi, aur mangalsutra har speed-breaker par uski chhati se lagta. Driver chup tha, Pushpa ji khidki se bahar dekh rahe the, beedi abhi nahi jalayi.

“Rani, tu thak to nahi gayi?” unhone poocha, bina mud kar. “Pehli baar itne logon ke saamne boli tu. Awaaz kaampi thi, phir seedhi ho gayi. Mujhe pasand aayi.”

“Thak nahi, Pushpa ji,” usne kaha, awaaz ab shaant. “Awaaz kaampi thi, yeh main chhupati nahi, lekin main hat nahi rahi. Yeh rasta itna shaant hai ki mujhe bharosa nahi ho raha. Shekhar Goud ka naam kal raat se mere kaan mein hai, aur aaj us kone se bhi aaya. Aap nazar rakhie, main bhi rakhungi.”

Unhone sir hilaaya, ab bhi khidki ki taraf. “Main rakh raha hoon. Tu phone mat chhodna.”

Shaant tab tooti jab pehli goli windshield ke upar se nikal kar tinkti hui hawa mein gaayi, aur doosri ne unke escort wale jeep ke tyre ko tod diya. Awaaz itni kareeb thi ki Srivalli ke kaan mein ek pal ke liye sirf sitti bachi. Driver ne gaadi ghumayi, mitti uth kar khidki par lagi, aur Pushpa ji ne Srivalli ko neeche dhakela, unki bhari hatheli uske sar par, unki awaaz kati hui thi. “Rani, neeche, sar jhuka, nikalna nahi. Raka, Kesari, seedhe nikaalo, yeh goli humari nahi.”

Srivalli seat ke peeche dab gayi, pallu munh ke kareeb, saans tez, lekin usne aankhein band nahi ki. Safed-lal kapda ab mitti se chipakne laga, choodiyan haath par kaanpti, mangalsutra uski chhati par thak-thak karta hua lagta tha. Bahar se chillahat aayi, doosri jeep ruk gayi, Munna ki awaaz, phir Raka ki, aur goli ki awaaz kareeb se, phir door se. Unhone dekha, ek pal, ki Pushpa ji ne apni purani pistol nikaali, darwaza khola, aur bahar kude, unki peeth uske saamne se kaali shirt mein ghayab ho gayi. *Aap bahar ho, aur main yahan hoon, aur meri kursi ki pehli subah goli se nikal rahi hai. Main yahan dari hui bahu nahi banungi.*

Usne phone uthaya, haath kaanpte hue bhi Prakash Naidu ka number lagaya. Do ring par unhone uthaya, awaaz file jaisi. “Rani ji?”

“Naidu ji, meri gaadi godown road par hai, goli chal rahi hai, Shekhar Goud ke log lagte hain, Pushpa ji bahar hain, meri party ki rani ab bhi is gaadi mein hai,” usne kaha, awaaz kaanpti, lekin har lafz saaf. “Aapke port security officer aur local thana ko abhi nikalna hoga. Yeh meri file hai, aapki zabaan ki, pehli dinner ki nahi, aaj ki. Bhejiye. Location abhi deti hoon.”

Ek pal ki khamoshi ke baad Prakash ne kaha, “Location bhejiye, main abhi call karta hoon. Gaadi se mat utariye. Sar jhukaye rahiye. Main aata hoon nahi, lekin meri uniform aayegi. Baat rakhunga. Phone mat katna.”

Srivalli ne location bheji, phir Pushpa ji ki taraf dekhne ki koshish ki. Bahar Raka ek deewar ke peeche se goli chala raha tha, Kesari doosri taraf se, Munna ek ghayal aadmi ko kheench kar nali ke kareeb le ja raha tha. Shekhar ke log kaale scooter aur ek van se nikal rahe the, chehre dhake, lekin unki goli ab itni azad nahi thi, kyunki Pushpa ke aadmi jungle ke hisaab se lad rahe the, sheher ke nahi. Ek goli gaadi ke darwaze mein lagi, dhaat ki awaaz itni kareeb thi ki Srivalli ki payal nahi, uski saans tak hili, lekin usne chillaya nahi, sirf pallu ko munh par aur kas liya, aur phone haath mein pakde rahi.

“Rani ji, theek hain?” Prakash ki awaaz phone par wapas aayi, ab file se thodi tez.

“Theek hoon, gaadi mein hoon, darwaze mein goli lagi hai, main andar hoon,” usne kaha. “Aapki jeep kitni door hai?”

“Saat-aath minute. Andar rahiye.”

Pushpa ji ki goli ne van ke darwaze ko theka, Raka ne ek scooter wale ko neeche gira diya, Kesari ki taraf se do goliyan deewar ke us paar gayi. Srivalli seat ke peeche se itna uth kar dekhti ki usko pata rahe kaun khada hai, kaun gira, aur uski safed-lal saree ab mitti aur dar se chipak rahi thi, pallu munh par, choodiyan haath par kaanpti. Baarood ki khushboo khidki se andar aa rahi thi, mitti ki, garmi ki, aur ek pal ko usko laga ki time ruka hua hai, sirf yeh awaaz aur uski saans. *Main yahan mari nahi, main yahan rani hoon, aur meri file ko is raste par khatam nahi hone dungi. Aap bahar ho, Pushpa ji, meri goli nahi, meri file yahin se chal rahi hai.*

Munna ek ghayal saathi ko kheenchte hue chillaya, “Bhaiyya, peeche se aa rahe hain,” aur Pushpa ji ne seedhe nahi, tedhe chal kar goli chalayi, jungle wala andaaz, sheher wala coat nahi. Van ke peeche se do aur scooter nikalne wale the, lekin Raka ki jeep unke raste mein aa gayi, aur awaaz ab do taraf se thi, ek unki, ek dushman ki.