जब मौज़र में एक आखिरी गोली बच गयी थी.........................................

ऑफिस जाते वक़्त जब वो शहर की मुख्य सड़क से गुज़र रहा था , उस ने अपनी बायीं और कुछ देखा, उसकी नज़रें कुछ देर वहीँ ठहर गयीं.

कल किसी ने आत्महत्या कर की थी, टेलीविज़न पर कल से ही ये खबर छाई हुई है, और आज अखबारों में.

किसी की नज़र में आत्महत्या बुजदिली है, कायरता है, कह तो ऐसे रहे हैं जैसे इन्होंने कितनी दफा आत्महत्या कर डाली हो. चंद्रशेखर आज़ाद, हिटलर शायद बुजदिल ही रहे हों. जब मौज़र में एक आखिरी गोली बच गयी थी तब आज़ाद को कायरता से अपने आप को गोली नहीं मारनी थी, बल्कि उन्हें तो बहादुरी से आत्मसमर्पण करना चाहिए था.

सड़क के बायीं ओर कचरे का अम्बार लगा हुआ है, दो गायें, सात-आठ कुत्ते और एक वृद्ध मनुष्य सा दिखने वाला प्राणी सब के सब इस कचरे के ढेर से कुछ न कुछ खा रहे हैं.

सबसे पहले तो शहर के बीचोबीच कचरे का इतना बड़ा अम्बार अपने आप में एक हैरत की बात है, उस से भी बड़ी हैरत की बात है की ७० वर्षों की कल्याणकारी सरकार के बावजूद एक मनुष्य को जानवरों के साथ स्पर्धा कर कचरे में से खाने को ढूंढ कर खाना पड़ रहा है.

वो भी महसूस कर रहा है अब अपनी गाडी में बैठे की टीवी वाले सही कह रहे थे – असली हिम्मत तो ये है, जानवरों से भी बदतर ज़िन्दगी जीने में.

जिसका जीवन भोग विलास में कट रहा हो वो मरना नहीं चाहता, ये बात तो समझ आती है, पर जानवरों सी ज़िन्दगी गुज़र करता एक वृद्ध भी मरना नहीं चाहता, ये बात कुछ समझ नहीं आती. शायद बुजदिलों वाले काम करने से डरता हो.

बात अब साबित हो गयी – आत्महत्या “कायरता” एवं “बुजदिली” है, लेकिन अच्छी बात ये है की कुल जनसंख्या का एक बेहद छोटा हिस्सा ही बुजदिल या कायर होता है, बाकी सब बहादुर हैं, उस वृद्ध की तरह.

लेकिन ये क्या – उस के मन में फिर से संदेह पैदा हो गया. आत्महत्या बुजदिली है या कायरता है, ये तो यकीन से वही बता सकता है जिसने इसका सफल प्रयास किया हो.

चलो ढूंढते हैं एक ऐसा शख्स.

A class apart

The new English teacher walked into the class. The noise that existed died it's death, a slow death. The girls and boys who were everywhere except their prescribed places, grudgingly moved towards their respective seats. And order was restored, class IX A was finally in order. 
The new teacher appeared a nondescript kind of object, of medium build, bespectacled, dressed ordinarily but neatly. 
The teacher introduced himself first and waxed eloquent on how he would change the behavior of the class, how he had sorted out all kinds of indiscipline in his previous assignment. If his veiled threats were having any effect on the class, it wasn't visible, thus far.
It was now the turn of the students to introduce themselves. Primarily three inputs- name of the student, name of his/her father, and father's occupation, the last input was what the teacher actually wanted to know, it would define how he would treat a particular student. 
The teacher listened through the introductions while seated in the armchair, provided.
Now he sprang to his feet with a purposefulness that appeared new found. 
"Considering the general standards of English in our state ( Bihar)", he started, "I assume that the standards of English of this class are not what it should be. So I will start with a vocabulary test", and with that he put on his "thinking cap" and went into deep thought. 
The class waited with baited breath for the difficult and unheard of words to come out of his repertoire. The time that was being taken by the teacher to come up with the fearsome words, added to the trepidation of the students.
Thunder struck as the first word came out - SWIM ( Sweem as he pronounced it), the class went up in a chorus, " What Sir?"
"Sweem" he said again. Sinha the most restless of all was now looking right and left, the one on his right Tiwari had written SEEM, while Mazumdar on his left had written SEAM in his notebook, apparently a hangover from his cricket. 
Sinha ended up more confused, not one to let go of any opportunity to irritate a teacher, new or old, he stood up - " Sir! Could you please write down all these difficult words that you are about to test us with. "
The new teacher stared at him as if he had committed blasphemy. Very reluctantly he picked up a piece of chalk and wrote down the terrifying word SWIM, there was a roar of disapproval from all sides. 
The next word was absolute murder. This time there was no confusion as it was written in white on black, and it read  'SHOES'.

Are you still there?

She was the most beautiful teacher in the school.

Being seated in the front row the distance between him and her was no more than 5 feet, and heavens fell down when she decided to come over and sit on his desk, which was quite often, and continued with her lecture explaining the nuances of a poem, with the whole class not listening, observing!

The dress code for teachers was white sleeves and black trousers for the gentlemen and cream coloured saree and black blouse for the ladies.

It looked like the perfect dress for her, though she looked beautiful in any dress, quite tall for a woman , with the perfect figure, white complexion, cheeks with a hint of rose, her palms and soles of her feet a peculiar red, even his palms were reddish while he was of a much darker complexion.

It was one of those days and she sat on his desk, all he could do was stare at her, his book and notebook had to be removed to make way for her. To make things worse she touched his face now and then just to leave marks of chalk powder that stuck to her hand. He could not understand  her actions.

Suddenly she remembered something and asked him to get up and follow her to the corridor. In the corridor she handed him a bunch of keys. She asked him to go to her house in school premises and bring something.

" come quickly" she said " before the class is over".

" but what about the lecture madam?" he asked " I will miss everything".

She giggled " I know you do not require it." " even then you may come over anytime, always welcome."

He asked her the time, it was only fifteen minutes to the bell.

He was at her house in five to seven minutes, he opened the front door and entered, it was the most beautifully kept house he had ever seen, everything very tasteful.

But what was this? He had forgotten what she had asked for, he tried his best to recall but couldn't.

Time was running out, he looked at the study table, he noticed a notebook that she carried to school everyday, " she must have asked for this" he thought, he was now convinced that this was what she had asked him to bring.

He took the notebook, relocked the door and made his way quickly to the classroom.

As he neared the entrance of the classroom, she signalled him to stop outside, maybe she did not want the class to see what she had asked him to bring.

" what is this?" she remarked when she saw the notebook in his hand. "was this what I asked you to bring?" she said in a tough tone.

He was scared now, his eyes fixed at the ground, unwilling to look up and face her famous temper.

Both of them were silent for a while.

Then he mustered some courage to look up expecting to see the flaming eyes- he could now recall what she had actually asked him to bring- her glasses.

But her eyes looked at him very fondly, and she was smiling- " so you weren't listening, were you?"

" Madam I remember now, I can go back and bring it quickly." he said.

She moved closer to him, ruffled his short hair with her right hand , leaving more chalk powder upon him.

" Go back to your place, you are wet with sweat." she pulled out her handkerchief that was tucked at the waist of her saree and wiped his face with it.

As he returned to his seat,the whole class was looking at him, with envy.

Most of his teachers had either retired or left for other places, he discovered, as he returned today to his Almamater after a hiatus of fifteen years.

His eyes were searching for anyone he could recognise, as he suddenly saw her, as beautiful as ever , resplendent in the cream and black. Strangely she also saw him at the same instant. She met him halfway, took a couple of seconds to make sure he was, who she thought he was. And then  She embraced him and planted one, two, three kisses on his forehead. The high school boys walking past ,stopped in their stride in disbelief, jaws dropping, mouths wide open. And for the first time his arms enclosed her in a hug, he felt he would fall asleep there and then.

She realised the presence of the boys and let go of her embrace, his hands dropped to his sides.

Taking both of his hands in hers- " how long are you here?" she asked " come home for dinner tonight" - " you still look like the same loveable schoolboy" she said , all in one breath.

" I will return in the afternoon Madam" he said.

" Alright come over for lunch then" she said " Although it will be very hasty and I have a lot to talk about."

" But Madam I have already accepted the Principal's invitation for lunch." he said.

She was annoyed now, " ok come for anything or even, come for nothing, but do come." she said.

" You remember my house?" " Don't you?" she asked and without waiting for the answer " It's the same house, from where you forgot to bring what you were asked to." a smile on her face.

The tears were now flowing freely down his cheeks.

The boys, standing around, even in their limited wisdom, seemed to understand and left the two alone.

After her lunch, she did not go for her usual afternoon nap, it was a ritual, almost.

She sat down in the living room turning the pages of an old magazine , glancing at the clock now, at the door then and sometimes walking up to the window to see if a car had pulled up on the street outside.

The whole afternoon passed, " it will be dark very soon" she thought " he must have returned by now."

She was quite upset now "They are all the same." she muttered under her breath.

She had joined this school when she was 24 years old, her father had passed away while she was a little girl, she had no memories of him.

And after the death of her mother joining this school had seemed the best option, till she found something better. That was about twenty to thirty years back.

There had been several proposals for marriage as was natural for someone so beautiful, but she had remained single.

Every year a fresh batch of students joined the school. Now and then she found among them someone she grew fond of who she would adore, but none of them returned once they were out of school.

" Even if one of them came back today, he could not find time to come and meet me, they are all the same." she muttered again, and got up to make some tea for herself, " I will be having tea alone today also" she thought, as she heard the familiar sound of shoes being wiped on the door mat, there was only one person who wiped his shoes on the door mat so vigorously- " Could this be true?" she thought " Is he really here?" " he was supposed to return in the afternoon."

She opened the door before anyone could knock upon it- he was there, alright!

" Oh! Come in, I was wondering if you would come after all." she said in delight.

He came in, but was unusually quiet, he had always been a quiet fellow, she remembered only too well.

" I was about to make tea for myself, have some tea with me." she said " Where is your car?" " Why did you walk down?"

He did not answer.

" Ok I will make tea, you must be getting late." she said as she started towards the kitchen.

He reached out for her hand and stopped her.

" I came walking down, to relive the old memories, I have been to your house so many times, so many cups of tea, so much of snacks." he said.

" But I won't have tea now." he said.

She was shocked, and stared at him in disbelief.

" I just came to tell you something."

She continued to stare at him, in anger now.

" I am sorry, it took me fifteen years to realise this." he said " I am not going anywhere Mom!" " I will have dinner with you tonight, and as many other times as you wish."

प्लेटफोर्म न. २

“प्लेटफोर्म नंबर २ पर आयेगी!” पूछ-ताछ खिडकी पर बैठे अधेड़ उम्र के आदमी ने कहा, उसने अपने वज़न बराबर या उस से अधिक कपडे पहन रखे थे.

“धन्यवाद” इतना कह कर वो प्लेटफोर्म नंबर २ की तलाश में चल पड़ा. लगभग १६ साल का लड़का, आज वो पहली बार अकेला इतनी लंबी यात्रा करने वाला  था, मन में कौतुहल तो था पर डर उस पर हावी हो चुका था, या यूँ कहें घबराहट.

सर्दियों की रात थी और ठण्ड चुभने वाली पड़ रही थी. ट्रेन को आने में अभी बहुत वक्त था कुछ घंटों का वक्त.

स्टेशन के बाहर पार्किंग जैसी कोई व्यवस्था नहीं दिख रही थी. समय भी तो काटना था , सो वह वहीँ रुक गया, एक कुली से उसने पूछा -

“ गाड़ियों की पार्किंग किधर है ?”

कुली एक गंभीर प्राणी दीखता था, फिर भी वो हँसने लगा.

“बाबु जो है सो यही है, ट्रेन ही सबकुछ है यहाँ पर, सड़क तो है ही नहीं.”

सुना था सुभाष बाबु जब अंग्रेजों को चकमा दे कर देश से बाहर जा रहे थे तो कलकत्ता से इस स्टेशन तक सड़क मार्ग से ही आये थे, और कुली कह रहा था की सड़क है ही नहीं, खैर सड़क भी अंग्रेज़ी सत्ता की तरह समाप्त हो गयी हो.

तब इस का नाम कुछ और हुआ करता था, आज स्टेशन का नाम सुभाष बाबु के नाम से ही है.

१९९२ में साउथ अफ्रीका में अफ्रीकन नेशनल कोंग्रेस की जब सरकार बनी तो उन्होंने पीटर- र्मारित्ज्बर्ग स्टेशन का नाम महात्मा गाँधी के नाम पर रख दिया.

तब की देसी सरकार को लगा वो अफ्रीकन नेशनल कोंग्रेस और हम इंडियन नेशनल कोंग्रेस , हमें भी कुछ करना चाहिए.

 

एक लंबा करीब २० फुट ऊंचा खम्भा था जिस पर एक एडिसन बल्ब जल रहा था, खैर वो एडिसन का ही ज़माना था, बल्ब की रौशनी ने एक छोटा सा घेरा बना रखा था, इस घेरे के बाहर घुप्प अँधेरा.

प्लेटफोर्म नंबर १ और २ को जाने के लिए सीढियां थी, जी हाँ, आम तौर पर प्लेटफोर्म नंबर १ प्रवेश द्वार से लगा हुआ होता है, पर यहाँ?

यहाँ प्रवेश सीढ़ी थी  यानि पैदल पार पथ.

सीढ़ी भी अंग्रेजों के ज़माने की बनी हुई लग रही थी, शायद सुभाष बाबु ने भी इसका इस्तेमाल किया हो.

शायद ये भारत का या विश्व का एक मात्र रेलवे स्टेशन हो जिसकी टिकट-खिड़की प्लेटफोर्म पर जाने वाली सीढ़ियों (पैदल पार पथ) पर ही बनी हुई है, कुछ तो बात रही होगी नहीं तो सुभाष बाबु ने इस स्टेशन का चुनाव ऐसे ही थोड़ी ना कर लिया होगा.

अब उसे ज्ञात हुआ की स्टेशन पर दो ही प्लेटफोर्म थे, रात के ग्यारह बजने वाले थे और  स्टेशन के बाहर रहना सुरक्षित नहीं था, सो वो सीढ़ियों से होते हुए प्लेटफोर्म नंबर २ की तरफ चल पड़ा.

लेकिन स्टेशन के अंदर प्लेटफोर्म पर भी कोई इंसान नहीं दिख रहा था, ऑफिस में शायद कुछ लोग थे लेकिन ठण्ड की वजह से खिड़कियाँ और दरवाज़े बंद कर रखे थे.

एक बंद कमरे के बाहर उसने बोर्ड देखा “भोजनालय”

बाहर कोई भी ऐसा नहीं था जिस से कुछ पूछा जा सके.

वो एक बेंच पर बैठ गया, अब भी बहुत लंबा इन्तज़ार था दून एक्सप्रेस के लिए.

बैठ जाने पर ठण्ड कुछ ज्यादा जान पड़ रही थी, गर्म कपड़ों को भेदती हुई हड्डियों तक हमला कर रही थी.

तभी प्लेटफोर्म पर कुछ हलचल सी हुई इक्का दुक्का यात्री प्लेटफोर्म न. २ पर आ कर खड़े थे.

उन में से एक अधेड़ उम्र के सज्जन ने उस से पूछा “ कालका मेल इसी पर आयेगी ना ?”

उस ने सर हिला कर अपनी अनभिज्ञता ज़ाहिर कर दी.

“ तुम कौन सी ट्रेन का इंतज़ार कर रहे हो ?”

“दून एक्सप्रेस” उस ने छोटा सा जवाब दिया.

उन सज्जन ने बुरा सा मुँह बनाया मानो कालका मेल के सिवा बाकी ट्रेनों का इंतज़ार करना कोई गुनाह हो.

खैर कालका मेल के आने की घोषणा प्लेटफोर्म पर होने लगी, और थोड़ी देर में कालका मेल प्लेटफोर्म न. २ पर खड़ी हुई.

सज्जन भी अपना बेढंगा सा सूटकेस ले कर उस पर सवार हुए, कालका मेल यहाँ सिर्फ २ मिनट रूकती थी, गार्ड ने हरी बत्ती दिखा कर ड्राईवर को इशारा कर दिया था और गाडी खिसकने लगी, तभी वो सज्जन फिर से एक डब्बे के दरवाज़े पर दिखे और जैसे तैसे ट्रेन से लगभग कूद कर उतर गए.

वो भी हैरत में पड़ गया, ऐसा क्या हो गया ?

उन सज्जन के पास पहुँच कर उसने पूछा “ क्या हो गया सर ?”

सज्जन हाँफ रहे थे इस कडाके की ठण्ड में भी पसीने की दो चार बूँदें उनके माथे पे दिख रही थीं.

उनके मुँह से दबे स्वर में गालियाँ निकल रही थीं.

“ अरे ये कालका मेल कल वाली थी, २४ घंटे लेट, आज वाली इसके पीछे आ रही है.”

तभी प्लेटफोर्म पर कालका मेल के आने की पुनः उद्घोषणा हुई.