Mark aik baar phir usi jagah khara tha — bilkul usi maqam par jahan kabhi kharay ho kar us ne sadak ke doosri taraf zindagi ko muskurate dekha tha.
Uski nazar ab bhi usi simt thi, magar aaj wahan kuch bhi nahi tha.
Na rang, na khushboo, na woh chhoti si shop jahan phool bhi zinda lagtay thay.
Sirf khaali hawa thi… aur aik bojh jo uske seene ke andar dheere dheere bharta ja raha tha.
Mark ne gehri saans li.
Uski aankhon mein nami thi.
Aisa lag raha tha jaise aankhen phir se wahi manzar dekh rahi hon jo aik hi lamhay mein kho gaya tha, jaise yaadon ke saharay woh phir uski baahon mein aa gai ho, jahan se kabhi wapas aana mumkin hi nahi hota.
Us ne phir gehri saans li, magar saans bhi jaise yaqeen karne se dar rahi thi ke ab usey sab kuch sehte huay, sab kuch jaante huay, aur chup rehte huay… Hazel ke baghair jeena hoga.
Yaadein sirf khoobsurat nahi hoti.
Kabhi kabhi yeh saans lena mushkil kar deti hain.
Us ne aankhen band kar li, aur waqt peeche chal para.
Us din bhi woh yahin khara tha. Halki halki barish ho rahi thi.
Sadak ke doosri taraf Hazel thi apni chhoti si flower shop mein, phoolon ko apne haathon se sambhaalti hui.
Aisa lagta tha jaise woh phool saja nahi rahi, balkeh un se baatein kar rahi ho.
Mark ne usay dekha aur uski duniya aik pal ke liye ruk gayi.
Woh pehle se bhi zyada pyaari lag rahi thi safed maxi mein malboos, rang birangay phoolon ke darmiyan, aik phool ki tarah khili hui.
Woh uske qareeb jana chahta tha, usey mehsoos karna chahta tha… magar usay dar tha ke agar qareeb gaya to kahin pehchan na liya jaye.
Khoon, cheekhein, woh din, kya pata us shor mein Hazel ne usey dekh liya ho?
Magar uske qadam sun’ne ko tayyar hi nahi thay.
Woh chal para.
Uski aankhon ke samne sirf Hazel thi.
Hazel ka sar jhuka hua tha, kaam mein masroof.
Uske baalon ki aik lat uske gaal ko chho rahi thi.
Uski aankhon mein roshni thi, aur honton par muskurahat, jaise phool us se shikayat kar rahe hon ke woh un se bhi zyada khoobsurat kyun hai?.
Mark uske samne aa kar khara ho gaya.
Hazel ko itni qareeb dekh kar Mark ki mohabbat aur shiddat ikhtiyar kar gayi, aisi mohabbat jo shor nahi karti, bas dheere dheere insaan ko pagal bana deti hai.
Woh baat karna chahta tha, magar pehli baar woh ghabra raha tha.
Jo aadmi kabhi kisi se nahi dara, aaj apni hi saans se dar raha tha.
Us ne khud se poocha: yeh kaisa ehsaas hai? Yeh kaisi bechaini hai?
Phir uske hont khuly.
“Yeh phool… bohot pyare hain.”
Hazel ne bina dekhe kaha, “Phool hamesha pyare hotay hain. Yeh kuch kehte nahi, magar apni khushboo se apni mojoodgi ka ehsaas dila dete hain.”
Hazel ki awaaz sun kar Mark ka dil zor se dhadakne laga. Us ne aisi pyari, kaanon mein ras gholti awaaz pehle kabhi nahi suni thi.
Woh isi ehsaas mein gum tha ke Hazel ne poocha, “Aap ko kaun se phool chahiye, sir?”
Mark aik pal ke liye khamosh hua.
Phir kaha, “Main phoolon ke baare mein zyada nahi jaanta. Agar aap chahein to meri madad kar dein.”
Hazel ne pehli baar usey dekha.
Mark ki nazrein Hazel ki nazron se takraeen, aur jaise duniya aik pal ke liye saans lena bhool gayi. Hazel ne dekha ke uske samne aik khoobsurat naujawan khara hai, black hoodie pehne, maathey par bikhre baal, aur gehri kaali aankhen, jaise bohot kuch kehna chahti hon.
Us ne halki si muskurahat ke saath poocha, “Aap kis ke liye phool lena chahte hain? Aap bata dein, phir main behtar madad kar sakti hoon.”
Mark ke liye itna hi kaafi tha. Uska sab se bara khauf ke kahin Hazel usey dekh kar dar na jaye, khamoshi se toot gaya.
Hazel ne usey pehchana nahi. Shayad us din ka usey sirf shor yaad tha, chehra nahi.
Woh is baat par andar hi andar khush tha.
Hazel ne dobara poocha, “Sir?”
Mark hosh mein aaya. Jhijakte huay bola, “Kya phool lene se pehle kisi ko zehan mein rakhna zaroori hota hai?”
Hazel ruk gayi.
Us ne kaam chhor diya aur Mark ki taraf barhi.
Mark ka dil usay apni taraf aata dekh kar aur tez dhadakne laga.
Woh Mark ke samne aa kar khari ho gayi. Uske chehre par masoom muskurahat thi.
“Phoolon ki zubaan nahi hoti,”
us ne dheere se kaha,
“magar phool hamesha woh keh dete hain jo hum keh nahi paate.”
Mark ko laga jaise koi uske dil ka raaz usey bina poochay bata raha ho.
Woh Hazel ke itne qareeb khara tha ke uski awaaz uske kaanon mein ras ghol rahi thi, aur uski khushboo… aisi khushboo jo shayad wahan maujood hazaaron phoolon mein se kisi ki bhi na ho.
Hazel bolti rahi, aur Mark bas usay dekhta raha, uske sunheri baal, woh awara lat jo uske gaalon ko choom rahi thi, aur uske narm, shugufta hont jo baat karte waqt hil rahe thay.
Hazel phoolon ke baare mein batati rahi:
Red rose — “Yeh tab diya jata hai jab mohabbat gehri ho chuki ho.”
Pink roses — “Yeh dheemi shuruaat hoti hai.”
Tulips — “Un logon ke liye jo mohabbat ko shor nahi, sukoon samajhte hain.”
Sunflowers — “Yeh dosti aur hamesha saath ka waada hota hai.”
Har phool Mark ke andar kuch aur gehra karta chala ja raha tha.
Uske andar hazaaron qisam ke jazbaat janam le rahe thay, beqaabu, be-tarteeb, aik doosre se takraate huay.
Jaise gehri samundari raat mein sadiyon se bhatakti hui aik kashti, jo har toofan se larr chuki ho, har lehar se zakhmi ho chuki ho, aur ab achanak usey sahil milne wala ho.
Usay mehsoos ho raha tha ke agar woh aik qadam aur aage badha, to yan to bach jaayega… yan phir hamesha ke liye doob jaayega.
Aur is bechaini mein, uska dil pehli baar toofan se nahi, sahil se dar raha tha.
Uski mohabbat be-qaabu ho kar uski aankhon se chhalak pari. Hazel ne dekh liya.
“Sir… kya maine kuch ghalat keh diya?”
Mark ne sir hila diya. “Nahi.”
Phir aankhen chura kar bola, “Kya koi phool sirf izzat ke liye hota hai? Us ke liye, jis ki izzat achanak dil mein ghar bana le?”
Hazel muskurai. “White Lily. Yeh izzat ka phool hota hai.
Yeh us ke liye hota hai jis ke liye dil mein be-panah ehtram ho.”
Mark ne White Lily li, aur wapas murh gaya.
Us din wahan se Mark ka sirf jism wapas ja raha tha pr uska dil wahin reh gaya tha.
Phir usey yaad aaya…
jab woh roz subah Hazel ki shop ke bahar khara hota, usey phoolon ke darmiyan dekhta.
Woh aur bhi zyada khil jaati. Woh roz White Lily le kar chala aata.
Phir aik din, jab woh phool le kar jaane laga, to Hazel ne poocha, “Aap roz White Lily hi kyun lete hain?”
Uske chehre par masoomiyat thi, aur sawal us se bhi zyada masoom.
“Bas kisi se shadeed aqeedat ho gayi hai,”
Mark ne itminaan se jawab diya.
“Abhi jama kar raha hoon. Phir apni aqeedat aur in phoolon ka wazan karoon ga. Agar phool aqeedat ke barabar huay, to ikathay uske qadmon mein rakh doon ga.”
Mark chala gaya… aur Hazel uske jawab mein kho gayi.
Kisi ne uski jacket ka kona kheench liya.
Mark ki soch toot gayi. Woh hosh mein aaya.
Us ne dekha, aik chhoti si masoom bachi, haathon mein phool liye, usey dekh rahi thi.
“Uncle… phool le lain.”
Mark ne uske haath se White Lily uthayi. Bachi bhaag gayi.
Mark ne phool ko dekha. Phir us jagah ko, jahan kabhi Hazel khari hoti thi.
Aankhon se aansu beh niklay.
Usi pal phone baja.
Kabeer.
“Mark, aaj shaam…”
Kabeer ki awaaz mein tezi thi.
“Roger ka khaas aadmi Friendship Café aa raha hai.”
Mark ne White Lily mutthi mein band kar li.
Mohabbat ka phool haath mein tha
aur inteqaam ki aag aankhon mein.
Mohabbat ab zimmedari ban chuki thi.