Henry 

Sann - 1917, Amritsar.
Sardi abhi shuru hi hui hai, lekin saal apni aakhri manzil ki taraf badh raha hai. Kohre ki safed chadar ne sab kuch apni god mein samet liya hai, jaise duniya apni roshni kho chuki ho. Subah ke waqt har cheez sukhi aur udasi se bharpur lagti hai yahan—mitti se uthti sard basiyaan, pattiyon par jamta shabnam, aur hawaa mein ek kasak si mehsoos hoti hai. Pedon ki tehniyan maano thand ke bojh se jhuki ja rahi hain, aur galiyon mein zyada log nazar nahi aate.

Bazaar mein dukanein dheere-dheere khul rahi hain; unke maalik angdaiyan lete hue chhoti-moti aag jala kar apne haathon ko garam kar rahe hain. Raat bhar jalte chulhon ke paas baithe kuch log kambalon mein lipte hue aahista-aahista subah ka intezar karte dikhai dete hain. Kohre ke andar se guzarti ek bailgadi ke peeyon ki kirrrrr-kirrrrr hawa ko cheerte hue door tak sunai deti hai.

Amritsar ki yeh subah sard aur sukoon bhari zaroor hai, lekin ismein ek ajeeb si bechaini bhi mehsoos hoti hai. Jaise sheher ke kone-kone mein ek khamosh inquilaab ka paigham lehar raha ho, aur kisi kone mein baith kar koi apne mansube tay kar raha ho. Saath hi, unhi mansubon ko todne ke liye British hukumat ke chand afsar apni chalkarein bunta rahe ho.

Isi tanav bhare mahaul mein, main Henry Caldwell, apni nayi padaunti ke baad England se Punjab ki mitti mein apni Lieutenant Colonel ki zimmedari sambhalne ke liye Amritsar pohncha hun. Mere chehre par ek ajnabi si muskan hai, lekin kahi dil ke ek kone mein yeh sheher mere liye ek naye anjaam ki dastak banne wala hai, jo mujhe khud ko bhi nahi maloom.

Punjab pohnchte hi, maine apni zimmedariyan sambhal li, lekin mera dil ab bhi pardes mein tha. Meri maa ke paas, shayad. Mere dil ki bechaini tab aur badh jaati hai, jab bhi main apni akeli budhi maa ki chinta mai dub jata hun, jo ke America mein mere door ke rishtedar ke ghar mein, unke rehmon karam par jee rahi hai. Vishav Yudh ke chalte England ke halat behaal hai, isi wajah se maine apni maa ko America bhej diya tha. Mere pita, jo ek field marshal hain, western front par France mein pehla Vishav Yudh lad rahe hain.

Main apne pita ki tarah, British hukumat ke prati wafadari aur zimmedariyon ke bojh mein hi bada hua hun. Pita ke unche uhde aur unki wafadari ki chhaon mein pala bada main hamesha unki umeedon par khara utarne ka dabav mehsoos karta hun. Meri zindagi ka har faisla, jaise mere pita ki soch ka ek ansh hai mujh mein, aur ho bhi kyu na, aakhir mai unhi ki tarah toh banna chahta tha hamesha se hi.

Apni mehnat aur lagan ke bal par maine Lieutenant Colonel ka uhda to hasil kar liya, lekin mera dil yahan Punjab mein tik nahi pa raha hai. Main front line par apne pita ke saath ladna chahta tha; unke saath mil kar dushman ko harane ka junoon rakhta tha. Lekin British hukumat ne mujhe Punjab bhej diya, ek aisi jagah jo mere sapnon aur khwahishon se pare thi.

Punjab ki mitti aur vahan ka maahol mere liye ajnabi sa hai. Yahan ke log, unki boli, unki sanskriti—sab kuch ek ajeeb si udaasi aur alagav ke ahsaas mein dhal chuka hai mujhe. Main bas apne daayre mein simta rehta hun yahan, apni zimmedariyon main uljha rehta hun, lekin dil se yeh jagah mere liye ek kaidkhana ban chuki hai.

6 mahine se zyada ho chuke hain mujhe yaha aaye hue. Lekin aaj bhi sab kuch begana sa lagta hai.

Zamindaron se milna, apni battalion ka netritva karna, baaghiyon ke mansube rokna, aur apni regiment ke sipahiyon ki training karwana—meri zindagi bas inhi kaamon ke daayre mein simat kar reh gayi hai. Har din ek jaise faraiz aur har raat ek jaise bechaini ke saaye mein guzarti hai meri. Sukoon nahi hai aur hoga bhi kaise? Apne ghar se aur parivar se dur, akhir kise sukoon milta hai? Khaskar jab har waqt ye khauf bana raha ho ke na jane agle hi pal kya khabar aa jae mere pita ke bare main.

Yudh, akhir kab kisko chain se jeene dete hain?

Usi bechaini bhari ek raat, dinner ke baad, main apne orderly Iqbal Ali ke saath sair par nikla tha. Hamara irada apne sepoy Gopal Lal se milne ka tha, jo krantikariyon ki harkaton aur unke mansubon ki jaankari diya karta hai humein. Gopal Lal se mulakat ke baad, mein aur Iqbal Ali cantonment area ke raste se mere bungalow ki taraf wapas ja rahe the. Kohre ki ghani chadar mein sab kuch dheemi roshni aur thande sannate mein lipta hua tha.

Tabhi, door se ek lantern ki halki roshni chamakti nazar aayi, aur saath hi zor-zor se kisi ladki ke kisi ko daantne ki awaz mere kaano tak pohnchi. Saath hi ek chhote bache ke rone ki aawaz bhi thi.

“Hun tu gharo bahr niklya na je, main tere godhe gite bhan dungi! (Ab agar tum ghar se bahar nikle, toh main tumhari tange tod dungi!)” Ek kathi aur tej aawaz ne mujhe ruka diya kyunki awaz mein rohb tha, lekin sath hi wo shehad si mitti bhi thi.

Haa, in 6 mahino mein main ab achhe se Punjabi or Hindi samajh leta hun kyu ke ye mera orderly Iqbal Ali har waqt itna bolta jo hai.

“Bhain maf kar dey! Ageyon ni karda! (Mujhe maaf kar do, behan! Agli baar nahi karunga!)” Kohre ke beech ek 9-10 saal ka sardar bacha mujhe dikhai diya, jo apni jagah khada, rone aur maafi mangne ki koshish kar raha tha.

Lekin us bache ka kaan kisi ne zor se pakda hua tha—ek ladki, jo apne chhoti si roshni wali lantern ke saath us bache ko daant rahi thi. Jab us ladki ne raat ke is sannate mein do mardon ko apni taraf aate dekha, toh usne foran apni shawl se apna chehra dhak liya.

Ab lantern ki roshni mein sirf uski badi-badi bhuri aankhen hi nazar aa rahi thi, jo kohre aur andhere ke beech bhi mujhe yun chamakti nazar aayi jaise raat ke asman mein koi sitara. Bahut khubsurat aankhen thi uski, jaise bahut kuch kehna chahti hon. Maine aaj tak itni gehri aankhen nahi dekhi thi jinme mano main toh bas ek lamhe ke liye doob hi gaya tha.

Main kuch pal ke liye wahi ruk gaya, uss nazare mein kho sa gaya. Us ladki ki aankhon ki gehraayi aur uski roshni ne jaise mera saara dhyan kheench liya ho. Jaise waqt mano tham sa gaya ho.

Iqbal Ali ki baatein mujhe wapis zameen par le aai, aur usne dheere se mere kareeb aa kar kaha, “Sahab, aage chalein?” Lekin mera mann jaise us pal us ladki ke chehre ko dekhne ki bechaini mein uljha hua tha. Mai kahi aur dekhna hi nahi chahta tha siwaye uski haseen aankhon ke.

“What is she doing at this hour of time here?” Maine Iqbal Ali se hairani mai pucha kyu ke jab se main yahan aaya hoon maine raat ke iss pehr kisi ladki ko bahir nahi deka, meri nazrein ab bhi us ladki par thi jo us bache ko zor se dante hue kheench rahi thi. Bina is fikr ke hum usse dekh rahe hain.

Iqbal Ali ne hansi dabate hue jawab diya, “Sahab, yeh bacha Sahib Singh hai. Yaad hain aapko Baldev Singh Virk? Jo vyapari hain—anaj aur kapde ke karobar mein? Pichle mahine aap unse mile the. British hukumat ke khass vafadar.” Iqbal ne meri yaadash ko tazaa karne ki koshish ki.

Maine kuch der socha kyunke har roz na jaane mai kitne logon se milta hun, ab kis kis ko akhir yaad rkhu? Phir maine dimag par zor lagaya aur mere zehan mein us vyapari ka chehra ubhar aaya. “I remember,” Maine dheere se kaha.

“Ji, yeh unhi ke chhote bhai ka beta hai,” Iqbal ne bataya, “Aur woh ladki unki beti. Is bache ke maa-baap guzar chuke hain, aur yeh sara din shetaniyan karke apni behan aur taya ko pareshan karta rehta hai.” Aur main bas ek tak usse hi dekhe ja raha tha.

Iqbal fir unki taraf mud kar zor se bola, “Ni dheeye! Ess wele ki karni ae aithe? Ghar ja! (Beti, is waqt yahan kya kar rahi ho? Ghar jao!)”

Ladki ne apni shawl ko aur kas ke lapet liya aur dheemi si awaz mein kaha, “Ji, chacha ji!”

Jesus Christ! Itni pyari awaz! Maine aaj tak kisi yun chilane wale ki aisi pyari aur madhur awaz nahi suni thi. Bilkul, shehad ke jaise ki abhi thodi der pehle wo bilkul bhi apne bhai ko baaton se hi kacha nahi chbane wali thi. Phir ek thappad laga kar apne bhai ko zor se kheenchte hue wahan se le gayi.

Main bas us ladki ko dekhta hi reh gaya, jaise uski aankhon ka jaadu mujhe baandh kar le gaya ho. Uskki badi-badi bhuri aankhen ki ek jhalak mere dil mein chhapa banakar chali gayi thi. Aisa pehle kabhi toh nahi hua tha, toh ab achanak kyu?

Lekin Iqbal Ali ki baatein mujhe fir wapas zameen par kheench laye. “Sahab, aaj Singh sahab ghar nahi honge, tabhi Dhee Rani iss shetan ko dhoondhne nikli hogi. Bacha hai na, khelne nikal jata hai aur baad mein yahaan-wahaan milta hai.” Iqbal ne bataya.

Maine bas sar hila diya, lekin mera dil ab bhi un aankhon mein uljha hua tha jo is andher bhari raat mein ek ujale ki tarah chamak rahi thi.

“Maa hoti toh kheench kar rakhti. Ab agar tai zyada dantegi toh log baatein karte hain. Subedar tha iska baap. Vidrohiyon se ladta hua shaheed ho gaya tha, aur maa uske gum mein chali gayi. Tab ye chota sa tha, sirf chaar saal ka, tab se tai aur behan hi isse paal rahi hain,” Iqbal Ali bolta gaya, apne andaaz mein kahani sunate hue.

Lekin meri soch to kahin aur hi thi. Iqbal Ali ki baatein mere kaanon tak to pohnch rahi thi, par maine ek shabd bhi dhyan se nahi suna. Mera man ab bhi us ladki ki aankhon mein uljha hua tha, jo raat ke kohre mein bhi ek ajeeb si roshni liye hue lag rahi thi. Ek alag si aag thi un aankhon mein jo raat ke syah andhere mein bhi chamak rahi thi.

Iqbal, jo meri adat se waqif tha, ek pal ko ruk kar bola, “Sahab, lagta hai aap thak gaye hain. Ghar chalte hain.”

Maine bas halke se sar hila diya aur apne pair aage badha diye, lekin mere andar ek ajeeb si bechaini thi, jaise is raat ke ghatna kram ne mere dil aur soch ke kone mein ek nayi kahani chhed di ho.

Main apni Umar ke 30 saal pure kar chuka hun, aur in salon mein main na jane kitni ki ladkiyon se bhi mila hun, lekin kabhi bhi kisiki aankhon ne mujhe yun bechain nahi kiya.

Agli subah, main apni roz ki marah ke kaam mein lag gaya aur ghar se nikal pada. Sard hawaon mein ek halki si thandak thi, jab maine Amritsar ki apni kothi ke bahar pehla kadam rakha. Bhari jute zameen par ek khas awaaz karte ja rahe the, aur meri saanson ka dhuan thandi hawa mein ek pal ke liye nazar aaya, phir sheher ke upar latakti dhund mein kahin kho gayi.

Sheher har taraf zindagi se bhara tha—bazaar mein dukandaron ki gana gate hue chizein bechne ki awaaz, kahin door bagiyon ki khat-khat ki awaz, aur mandir se aati ghanti ki madhur dhun.

Maine apne garam coat ka collar upar kiya aur aas-paas dekha. Meri gehri neeli aankhein sheher ke har kone ka muayana kar rahi thi, lekin yeh jagah ab bhi itne dino ke baad mere liye utni hi ajnabi thi jitni ki 6 mahine pehle lagti thi. Aaj maine apni gadi lene ke bajay paidal chalne ka man banaya tha, aur chalne ke sath mera dimag ek baar phir us pal ki taraf chala gaya jab mujhe meri posting orders mili thi.

Amritsar—ek sheher, jiska sirf naam suna tha reports mein, ab wahi mera ghar ban gaya hai.

“Punjab,” dheere se maine apne aap se kaha. Yeh shabd meri zubaan par ajeeb lag raha tha, jaise kisi alag duniya ka hissa ho. “Heart of India’s rebellion, they say,” maine apne andar hi socha, ek halki su thandi sans li aur apna safar jari rakha.

Is sheher ke baare mein jitna maine suna tha, wo mere samne kuch aur hi nazara le kar aaya tha—ek jagah, jo itni gehri sanskriti aur ithaas se bharpoor thi, aur saath hi ek andar chhupi bechaini ka ahsaas bhi deti thi. Chalte-chalte mere kadam behtareen British regimentation ke ek misaal ke taur par bani sadkon par padte gaye, lekin mera man ab bhi kisi aur jagah tha—shayad us raat ki ek jhalak mein jo mera peecha nahi chhod rahi thi.

Pata nahi kyu, par mai bas ek bar aur use dekhna chahta hun. Sirf ek baar.

Hawa mein masalon ki khushboo thi—jeera, elaichi, aur ek meethi si mehak jo mujhe pehchaanne mein thoda mushkil ho raha tha. Maine apni naak halki si sikodi, jo mere liye naye thi, mujhe aadat nahi thi.

Kuch bachon ka jhund mere paas se hansate hue, daudte hue guzra, unke gulehri jaise laal gaal thandi hawa mein aur gulabi ho rahe the. Ek chhota sa bachha ruk gaya, meri aur utsuk nazron se dekha, aur phir, phir se daud gaya.

Maine muskurate hue apna sar hilaya. Aaj bhi kuch log mujhe yun dekhte hain jaise ke main kisi aur duniya se aya hun. Akhir kyun? Ab tak toh inhe aadat ho jani chahiye, akhir hum lagbhag pichle 150 salon se in par raj kar rahe hain.

Maine apne dastane wale hath pichhe bandhe, apne aasan ko bilkul sakht rakha, jaise sheher ki ranginata se khud ko bachane ki koshish kar raha hun. Sheher ki garmi aur rang ke bawajood, Amritsar mujhe "ajnabi mulk" lag raha tha—ek aisi jagah, jahan main bilkul naye tha, aur Union Jack jo cantonment ke upar lehra raha tha.

Par mere andar ek bechaini thi. Yeh wo zindagi nahi thi jo maine fauj join karte waqt sochi thi. London, apni dhuandhar subah aur jaane-pehchaane riwaajon ke saath, ek door ki yaad ban kar reh gaya hai ab mere liye. Yahaan sab kuch ajnabi hai—log, unki zubaan, aur wo thandi hawa jo mere jism tak ghus rahi thi.

Mere khayalon ko ek orderly ne tod diya, jo mere paas aaya—ek patla aadmi, khaki uniform mein, dhang se bandhi pagdi ke saath. Usne ek tez salute diya.

“Sahib, kuch madad chahiye?” orderly ne poocha, uska andaaz izzat bhara aur atamvishwasi tha aur hona bhi chahiye, akhir main koi mamuli insaan bhi nahi hun.

Maine apni bhawen jhuka li. "Madad" shabd mere zehan mein dheere se goonj raha tha—shayad iska matlab "madad" tha.

“No,” Maine thoda gussa ho kar jawab diya, lekin orderly ki sacchai ne mera jawab naram kar diya. “I’m just… familiarizing myself with the area.”

Orderly ne sir hila kar ek kadam piche hat gaya. “Aap ka hukm hai, Sahib.”

Mere honthon par formality ke taur par ek halki si muskaan aayi. Urdu shabdon mein ek ajeeb si khoobsurati thi, ek naramgi jo fauj ke taqaze ki sakhti ke bilkul ulat thi, aur meri yeh ab dili khwahish bhi thi ke mai urdu sikhun.

Maine ek gehri saans li aur sheher ki taraf dobara dekha, aur meri saansen hawa mein dhool ki tarah ghul gayi.

Us waqt mujhe nahi pata tha ki yeh jagah meri zindagi ko kaise uljha degi. Amritsar sirf ek posting nahi tha—yeh wafadari, raaz aur ek aise pyaar ka maidan banne wala tha jo maine kabhi socha bhi nahi tha. Abhi ke liye, yeh ek ajeeb, thanda sheher tha, aur main ek aisi shakhsiyat, jo yahaan apni jagah dhoondhne ki koshish kar raha tha.

Din ka kaam dekhne ke baad, dopeher ki dhoop achi thi, toh main fir paidal hi apni kothi ki taraf chal pada. Lekin, chalte-chalte mujhe door se ek madhur awaz sunai di, jaise koi geet gunguna raha ho.

Uski aur khinchta hua, main bazaar se door khule maidan mein aa gaya, jahan maine apni zindagi ka sabse khoobsurat nazara dekha.

Ek ladki kuch Punjabi mein gunguna rahi thi, paid ke tane se latka jhula jhulte hue. Mujhe ek shabd samajh nahi aaya, wo gaa kya rahi thi, par wo pyari si muskaan aur shehad si madhur awaz ne mujhe apni aur kheench liya. Wahan wo akeli nahi thi; aur bhi ladkiyan thi wahan uski hum umar, lekin meri nazrein toh bas ek par hi jaa ruki.

Wo wahi thi jo main kal raat se apne zehen mein soch-soch kar pagal ho raha tha.

Lekin haqeeqat mein, wo meri soch se bhi zyada khoobsurat thi. Masoom si.

Haan, wo wahi thi, aur main use pehchane mein bhala kaise galti kar sakta tha? Kyunki suraj ki roshni mein bhi, wo aankhein waise hi chamak rahi thi jaise ki syah raat ki chandi mai chamak rahi thi.

Peengh jhulte hue, wo ladki ek aise khubsurat tasveer ki tarah lag rahi thi, jaise purani kahaniyon se nikal kar koi khwabon ki raat ban gayi ho. Uska laal rang ka dupatta jo hawa mein lehra raha tha, jaise zameen aur aasman ke rang ko apne andar samet raha ho.

Uske baal halki si lehrate dhoop mein chamak rahe the, jaise sheher ke upar chhayi hui sunehri roshni ko apni jhilmilahat mein bas le rahe ho aur hawa mein lehrati wo latein kisi ke bhi dil ko naagin ki tarah das lein.

Uski muskaan is waqt dhoop se bhi zyada chamak rahi thi. Uski aankhon mein ek nayi narmi thi, jo mere dil mein ek ajeeb si halchal daal rahi thi. Wo ladki har peengh ke hulare ke saath apni masoomiyat ko zindagi ke rangon ke saath saja rahi thi, aur har ek jhule mein, wo jaise khud bhi ek sapna ban gayi thi, jo asal duniya se kuch alag hi tha.

Maine aaj tak aisa pak khwab pehle nahi dekha tha.

Jab wo gaane ki aawaz mein apni masoom si muskaan chhupaye, peengh se jhul rahi thi, to mujhe laga jaise woh duniya ke sabse khubsurat pal ka hisa ban gaya hun.

Main apni jagah par khada use peengh jhulte hue dekh raha tha. Apni saheliyon ke saath baat karte hue, hansate-hansate, wo bahut hi pyaari lag rahi thi.

Tabhi achanak, kuch angrez afsron ke bache apni cricket bat aur ball ke saath maidan mein aaye. Unki muskurahat mein ek taana tha, jaise wo ladki aur uski saheliyon ko apni angrezi aur apne khud ke status se neecha dikha rahe ho.

“Look at them! Who are they? No one. Get out of here, you illiterate cows.” 

Jab unhone un ladkiyon ka mazaak udaaya, mujhe gussa toh bahut aya par mai kuch kar na saka kyun ke unmein se ek General ka beta bhi tha aur kabhi kabhi hamare bhi hath apne afsaron ke aage bandhe hote hain.

 Lekin wo ladki, jo ab tak bas khud mein muskura rahi thi, ek dam se thoda sa seedha ho gayi. Uski aankhon mein ek chamak thi, jaise kuch kaise jawab dene ka waqt aa gaya ho. Aur phir, bina kisi jhijhak ke, usne apne chehre par ek chhoti si muskaan rakhi aur apni saheliyon ko ek nayi taqat dene waale shabdon mein kuch kaha.

"Excuse me, boys," uski awaaz ek dam se saf aur steek thi, jaise woh khud bhi British ho. 

‘Damn! Do Indian girls speak such fluent English? I didn't know that. She is something else.’

"You think your language and status give you the right to mock others? Let me remind you that being rude does not make you superior; it just makes you ignorant." Usne sateek jawab diya aur kasam se mera dil toh bahut hua uske liye taaliya marne ka par maine khud ko kabhi mein rakha.

Kyu ke kisi bhi insaan ko kisi dusre ka mazak udane ka haq nahi hai. Khas taur par jab tum nakara ho aur apne baap ke rutbe ka galat fayda uthao.

Us ladki ke shabdon mein ek aisi gehraai thi, jo kisi bhi angrez ke bachon ko achanak chup kar dene ke liye kaafi thi. Main jo kuch door khada tha, ne uski angrezi sun kar dang reh gaya. Uski awaaz, jo bilkul thik angrezi mein thi, ne mujhe ek ajeeb sa ehsaas diya.

‘Feisty! She is a deadly combination of beauty with brains.’

Wo ladki sirf apne rang aur soch se nahi, balki apne shabdon ki taqat se bhi sabko jaane kyun apne rang mein rangne wali thi.

Main thoda sa dang tha, par main prabhavit zyada tha. Wo bahut masoom lagti thi, lekin kal raat uski raubdaar awaz sunne ke baad main yeh toh jaan gaya hun ke ismein kuch toh baat hai jo mujhe pagal bana rahi hai.

Yeh ladki... yeh sirf khoobsurat nahi, bilkul apni baat samajhne wali aur apne haq mein khadi hone waali bhi hai.

Main us nazare ka anand lene mein masroof tha ke tabhi na jaane kahan se Iqbal Ali aa gaya, “Sahab! Aap yahan? Wo bhi paidal?”

“Just wanted to have a walk.” Maine jawab diya aur pucha. “Iqbal, who is she?”

“Aree Sahab! Ye Heer hai. Baldev Singh ki beti jo kal raat apne bhai ko ghaseet to hui le ja rahi thi. Yaad hai? Jab hum Gopal Lal se mil kar wapis aa rahe the?” Apni aadat se majbur, Iqbal Ali phir se lambi kahaniyan le baitha.

Lekin in sab mein isne ek baat achi kar di: mujhe iska naam bata diya. Heer.

“Heer!” Maine dheere se uska naam dohraya jaise ke dekhna chahta tha ke ye mere labon par kis tarah se sajega.

Lekin jab main wapis use dekhne ke liye mudda tha, wo apni saheliyon ke saath ja chuki thi.

(How was the first chapter ?

Please leave comments and let me know 🫶❣️

Do you like this new experiment or not?)