Woh Kitaab Jo Zinda Log Nahi Padh Sakte – Ek Zakham Ban Jaane Wali Kahani

Mera naam Sameer hai… aur aaj jo kuch batane jaa raha hoon, wo na kahaani hai, na fiction. Yeh ek aisi cheez hai jise main jee kar aaya hoon. Agar tum isey sirf ek story samajh ke sunoge, toh shayad tum survive kar jao... warna—tum bhi usi raaste pe chale jaoge jahan se main muskil se laut paya hoon. Dekho, main kisi horror channel ka narrator nahi hoon. Na main writer hoon. Na mujhe koi shock hai kisi ko daraane ka. Main toh bas ek normal insaan hoon... ya shayad tha. Yeh sab shuru hua tha ek purani kitaab se. Us din main Purani Dilli ke ek chhote se book market mein ghoom raha tha. Shahjahanabad ki galliyon mein waise bhi waqt ulta chalta hai, pata hi nahi chalta aaj hai ya koi purana sa kal. Main rare kitaabein collect karta hoon. Bas shauk ke liye. Antique shops, flea markets, jahan bhi kuch ajab mile, le leta hoon. Us din ek buddhi aurat ke thele pe meri nazar gayi. Woh thela poora kitabon se bhara tha. Lekin ek kitaab alag si thi—kaali, puri jali hui cover wali... bina kisi naam ke. Na writer ka naam, na publisher ka. Aur sabse ajeeb baat—uspe ek tag chipka tha: “Zinda log isse na padhein.” Main hansa. Socha koi gimmick hoga, jaise marketing trick. “Yeh kitni ki hai?” maine us aurat se poocha. Woh mujhe dekhti rahi. Seedha aankhon mein. Jaise meri rooh tak dekh rahi ho. “Tu zinda hai?” usne poocha. Mujhe thoda ajeeb laga. Lekin maine haan mein sir hila diya. “Tab tak na padhna, jab tak zinda hai.” Main hans ke aage badh gaya, par us kitaab ne mera peecha nahi chhoda. Raat ko ghar aake, maine sab kitaabein side mein rakhi. Woh kaali kitaab maine table pe rakhi thi. Us waqt tak toh mazaak lag raha tha. Par jaise hi main ne uska pehla panna khola… meri poori body sukh gayi. Page blank tha. Lekin andar se koi awaaz aayi... jaise kisi ne andar se kaha ho: “Kya tu tayyar hai dekhne ke liye jo zinda log nahi dekhte?” Maine turant kitaab band kar di. Mera dil itni zor se dhadak raha tha jaise body andar se tod ke nikal jaayega. Main hansa... zabardasti. Socha hallucination hoga. Par tabhi light blink karne lagi. Fan ruk gaya. Aur mere saamne, table pe woh kitaab khud-ba-khud khul gayi. Mere haath thande pad gaye. Uska doosra page bhi blank tha, lekin is baar main ne us blankness ko dekha, aur dekhta hi chala gaya. Jaise blank nahi tha, kuch aur tha. Aankhon ke saamne koi purani haweli dikh rahi thi. Raat thi. Barish ho rahi thi. Haweli ke andar ek aadmi tha, jiska chehra bilkul mere jaisa tha. Main tha? Main ne aankhen jhapkaayi. Sab gayab. Room wapas normal. Fan chalne laga. Light wapas. Par woh chehra… woh haweli… ab mere dimag mein chhup gaya tha. Agle din main ne decide kiya ki us kitaab ko dobara haath nahi lagana. Lekin raat ko jab neend aayi, main seedha usi haweli mein tha. Wohi main, wahi haweli, wahi barish. Par ab main andar tha. Mujhe kisi ne awaaz di—“Sameer...” Main mud ke dekha, koi tha nahi. Haweli ki deewar pe likha tha: “Jo zinda hain, unka yahaan aana mana hai.” Main bhaaga. Jaise hi darwaza kholo, meri aankh khuli. Main apne kamre mein tha. Gila. Pasina ya barish, pata nahi. Subah, maine woh kitaab uthayi, jalane ke liye. Jaise hi match lagaya, aag khud bujh gayi. Kitaab ne ek dum se likhna shuru kar diya. Har page pe ek lafz likha hua tha. Har page pe ek hi cheez: “TU TO ZINDA THA, AB KYUN PADH RAHA HAI?” Main ne us din se bahar jaana chhod diya. 3 din tak na khaaya na piya. Har raat ek naya sapna aata. Ek naya page khud likha jaata. Mujhe dikhaya jaata ki main kaise marega. Har din ek nayi death. Ek din mere gale mein faansi, doosre din mere haath katega, teesre din main apne hi khoon mein doobta. Woh kitaab mujhe maarne ka tareeka sikha rahi thi. Jaise uska maqsad tha mujhe zinda se murda banana. Fir aakhri din, maine ek galti kar di. Maine poori kitaab padhi. Jaise jaise padh raha tha, har page ek scene ban ke saamne aa raha tha. Aur phir main wapas usi haweli mein tha. Is baar main khud ko dekh raha tha, lekin main andar se nahi bol sakta tha. Mere saamne ek ladki khadi thi—jise main pehchanta bhi nahi tha—woh chillayi: “Sameer, ruk jaa! Usay mat padho!” Par main toh padh chuka tha. Us waqt us ladki ki aankhon mein sirf ek cheez thi—darr. Usne mujhe dhakka diya. Main seedha neeche gira—aur tabhi meri aankh khuli. Main apne kamre mein tha. Lekin sab kuch ulta tha. Clock reverse chal rahi thi. Phone mein date 1947. Mirror mein main tha hi nahi. Aur phir main samjha. Main ab zinda nahi hoon. Woh kitaab zinda logon ke liye nahi thi. Usne mujhe padne nahi diya… pehle. Par jab main ne zidd ki, toh usne mujhe andar kheench liya. Ab main ek ‘story’ hoon. Har page mein mera chehra hai. Har chapter mein meri maut. Us din ke baad, jo bhi woh kitaab kholta hai, pehla chehra usse mera dikhta hai. Aur main kehta hoon: “Kya tu tayyar hai dekhne ke liye jo zinda log nahi dekhte?” Uske baad ek aur chehra add ho jaata hai. Shayad tumhara. Shayad agla jo padhe. Tum sun rahe ho, toh bas yahi kehna hai... agar kabhi kisi kitab pe likha mile “Zinda log isse na padhein”... toh uss kitaab se door bhaagna. Warna tumhe bhi koi sunata milega kahani... bina chehre ke, bina zindagi ke... sirf ek kahani mein qaid hokar.