ST. PETER’S CHURCH KA RAAZ

Mera naam Sana Malik hai. Main Malir Town ki Government Girls High School ki 10th class ki student hun — wohi purana school jahan raaz chhupa hai — wohi school jahan dar ki parchhayi kabhi kam nahin hoti. Har corner pe purane benches hain, purane blackboards, purane darwaze… har cheez pe samay ki parchhayi hai — lekin aaj main aapko jo kahaani sunane ja rahi hun, woh usse bhi purani hai — woh Malir ki raaston me ghoomti hui — har ghar, har gali me shaapit hai. School se kuch kadam ki doori par St. Peter’s Church hai — British era ki imarat — patthar ki deewarein, oonchi chhatein, rangeen glass ki khidkiyaan — har corner me raaz chhupa hai. Harigaon ke buzurg kehete hain ki St. Peter’s church shaapit hai — “Raat ko usmein aatmaen ghumti hain…”, “Jo bhi uska darwaza kholega, woh kabhi wapas nahin aaya…”. Yeh afwahen purani hain, lekin kabhi kam nahin hui — lekin jab bhi koi us raaste se guzarta hai, to chalne wale apni raftaar tez kar lete hain — haath mein rosary ya Bible pakde — aur dua karte hain ki woh surakshit ghar pahoch jaye. Ek shaam jab suraj dheere-dheere doob raha tha, aasmaan pe orange, laal aur purane sone ki parchhayi thi — Riya, Naila, aur main ghar ki taraf aa rahe the. Riya ki haath me Bible thi — woh usse pakde hui thi — Naila ki awaz kamjor thi — woh dua padhti hui chal rahi thi — tabhi church ki ghanti apne aap chalne lagi — “Dang… Dang… Dang…”. Hum teeno tham gaye — kadam ruk gaye — sans halki hui — aur dil ki dhadkan tez. Riya ne bola, “Sana… Naila… chalo… chalo… ghar chalo… yeh accha nahin hai.” Naila ke haath thandey hone lage — uska chehra peela padta gaya — lekin main… main church ki taraf chalti gayi — mano koi shakti mujhe khech rahi thi. Darwaza halkasa khula tha — uska loha purana tha, zang laga hua — uska handle haath me thanda mehsoos hua — jab maine usse dhire se ghumaya… darwaza charr ki awaz karta hua khulta chala gaya. Andar purana prayer hall tha — benches purane, moombatti ki kam roshni, crucifix pe khoon ki boondain, deewaron pe chalta hua saya… Riya chillayi, “Sana… wapas aa! Yeh accha nahin hai… please…”, Naila ki sans kam hone lagi — woh haath se Bible pakde hui thi — lekin uska haath kamp raha tha. Main aage badhti gayi — har kadam pe church ki deeware kanpti hui mehsoos hui — benches halkese move hone lage — rangeen glass ki khidki se aane wale halke prakash me parchhayi bhi chalti hui nazar aayi… Tabhi pichhe se darwaza zor se BAND HO GAYA! Riya chillayi — Naila ki haalat bigadti gayi — woh behosh hone lagi… Andar se kadam ki aahat hui — halki… dheemi… heavy — har kadam pe benches kanp rahe the — crucifix ulta hone laga — rangeen glass ki khidkiyaan darar lene lagi… Tab woh parchhayi samne aayi — woh purane padri ki parchhayi thi — chehra puri tarah se jala hua — haath utha kar bola… “Sana… tu chuni gayi hai… tu wapas nahin jaayge…”. Riya behosh hui… Naila ki haalat bigadti gayi… Maine apni haath me Bible pakdi… “Bismillaahir Rahmaanir Raheem…” — aur usi wakt church ki ghanti shaant hui… darwaza khul gaya… hum teeno wahan se bhaag kar ghar aa gaye… Lekin… har shaam jab suraj doobta hai… church ki ghanti apne aap bajti hai… aur purane padri ki parchhayi uske darwaze par nazar aayi deti hai…