Bansraiya Jadoo Tona Wala Gaon jahan saaye ulta chalte hain

Mera naam Riyaz hai, aur aaj main tumhe ek aisi kahani sunane ja raha hoon jo na sirf meri zindagi ka hissa ban chuki hai, balki mere hosh mein bhi ghul gayi hai. Shayad tum ise horror kahoge, ya koi purani afwah. Shayad tum hans do, lekin jis raat ka main zikr karne ja raha hoon, uske baad meri hansi hamesha ke liye kho gayi. Kahani shuru hoti hai 2016 ke ek sard subah se, jab mujhe ek research project ke silsile mein Bihar ke border ke paas ke tribal region mein bheja gaya. Mera kaam tha kuch rare tribal customs aur unke cultural practices pe data collect karna. Main kaafi excited tha, kyunki yeh mere liye pehla solo field assignment tha. Ek local contact ne mujhe ek gaon ka zikr kiya—"Bansraiya." Bola, "Wahan kuch ajeeb hai. Log kuch alag maante hain. Jaoge toh sambhal ke." Mujhe curiosity hui. Usne bataya ki gaon chhota hai, lekin koi wahan rukta nahi. Government records mein bas naam hai, lekin koi updated census data nahi. Log us jagah ka naam sunke chup ho jaate hain. Main socha, aur bhi accha. Rare data milega. Bansraiya gaon tak pahuchne ke liye mujhe ek ghante ka jungle paar karna pada. Ek guide mila—Suresh naam tha. Usne bola, "Main andar tak nahi jaaunga. Mandir se pehle hi chhod dunga." Maine poocha kyun? Bola, "Wahan kuch hai. Main nahi jaata. Mere chacha gaya tha. Wapas aaya, lekin bolna band kar diya. Aankhen khuli rehti thi, zubaan sil gayi jaise." Jab Bansraiya ke board tak pahucha, toh pehla hi feel alag tha. Path pe ek bhi ped ka patta nahi hil raha tha, lekin hawa kaafi tez thi. Board purana tha, jisme safed paint se likha tha: "Yahan ke niyam alag hain. Ulta chalte hain saaye." Gaon mein enter karte hi sab kuch unusually silent tha. Na murga, na kutta, na bacchon ki awaaz. Ghar mitti ke bane the, lekin sabke darwazon pe ek chhoti si kaali dhaaga latki thi, aur ek peela choona lagaya gaya tha. Main confuse tha, ye kya ritual hai? Mujhe ek buddhi aurat mili, jiska naam tha Sumrati Maai. Uski umar kam se kam 80 thi, lekin aankhon mein koi ajeeb si roshni thi—jaise sab kuch jaan jaaye. Maai ne bola, "Akele aaye ho? Galti ki. Yahan bina bulaye koi nahi aata. Tumhare peeche kuch aa gaya hoga. Par chalo, raat yahin ruk jao." Main dar to gaya, par ek researcher hone ke nate ruka. Usne mujhe ek kamra diya, jisme ek chhoti si diya jal rahi thi aur ek purana photo frame tha, jisme koi chehra dikh nahi raha tha. Maai ne mujhe teen baatein boli: 1. Shaam ke baad bahar mat nikalna. 2. Mandir ke paas bilkul bhi mat jaana. 3. Agar koi pukare—chahe awaz jaani-pehchaani ho—jawab mat dena. Raat ko main diary likhne baitha, lekin lagbhag 2:13 baje ek ajeeb si smell aayi—jaise jala hua lahsun aur mitti. Main window ke paas gaya, toh dekha 6-7 log safed chadar mein, bina pairon ke, hawa mein 4 inch upar chal rahe hain. Sab mandir ki taraf ja rahe the. Main shock mein tha. Phone se photo lena chaha, lekin screen black. Battery gayab. Room ka bulb blink karne laga. Tabhi ek awaaz aayi, "Riyaz... ghar chalo." Yeh mere cousin Sameer ki awaaz thi, jo 7 saal pehle talab mein doob gaya tha. Main jam gaya. Saans ruk gayi thi. Awaaz aur paas aayi. "Riyaz, maa ro rahi hai. Ghar chalo..." Maai ki baat yaad aayi: "Agar koi pukare—chahe awaz jaani ho—jawab mat dena." Main chillaya nahi. Bas bed pe jaake kambal odh liya. Subah aankh khuli toh Maai bolti hai, "Teen tumhare peeche hain. Agar sham tak ghar mein na laaye, toh le jaayenge." Main samjha nahi. Kaun teen? Usne mujhe ek peela kapda diya, bola isse gale mein baandho. Ek neela choona diya—darwaze ke chaar kono pe lagao. Main waise hi kiya. Shaam hoti gayi, aur hawa aur tez hone lagi. Maai ne mujhe ek chhoti thali di, jisme neem ke patte, ek safed kankad aur ek surkh sindoor tha. Bola, "Jab awaaz aaye, toh yeh patte jalana. Agar patta jalke kala ho jaye, toh chup rehna. Agar laal ho jaye, toh mantra bolna." Raat 1:45 baje, awaaz fir aayi. Is baar meri maa ki thi: "Beta... Riyaz... bahar aa ja. Tere liye kheer banayi hai." Main almost behak gaya. Par fir yaad aaya. Patta jalaya—kala hua. Main chup raha. Lekin awaaz khidki se andar aayi: "Nalayak! Maa ki awaaz bhi nahi pehchaani?" Diya bujh gaya. Tabhi peeche se Maai ne mantra bola aur ek kala dhuaan pure kamre mein bhar gaya. Jab dhuaan hata, toh ek parchayi mere sar ke upar hawa mein latak rahi thi. Safed chadar. Aankhen nahi thi—sirf do khaali suraakh. Woh hawa mein ghoomti thi jaise mujhe dekh rahi ho. Fir usne ek aakhri line boli: "Tumhe bulaya gaya tha. Par Maai ne rok diya. Hum phir aayenge." Main behosh ho gaya. Jab aankh khuli, main Patna ke ek hospital mein tha. Teen din baad hosh mein aaya. Doctors ne bola, mujhe kisi ne jungle ke edge pe padha dekha, poori body scratch aur mitti mein lipti hui thi. Haath mein ab bhi woh peela kapda tha—lekin ab uspar teen kaale haath ke nishaan bane the. Maai ka koi pata nahi mila. Bansraiya wapas gaya toh pura gaon khaali tha. Ghar the, lekin darwaze band. Mandir ka gate gira hua tha. Sab kuch jaise kabhi tha hi nahi. Tab se leke aaj tak, main har dus din mein ek baar wahi awaaz sunta hoon. Kabhi maa ki, kabhi Sameer ki. Ek baar toh meri khud ki awaaz bhi sunayi di. Mujhe pata hai... woh teen ab bhi peeche hain. Aur main bas ek aur bulawa door hoon... Jadoo Tona Wale Gaon ki list mein... ek aur naam banne se pehle ki kahani suna raha hoon. Shayad tum sun lo. Shayad samajh jao. Shayad... bach jao.