Peer-E-Kamil (The Perfect Mentor) - Roman Urdu {Completed}

Chapter 3.2

Gair khususiyat se, Salar dair se utha.

Jab usne waqt dekha, to usne college na jane ka faisla kiya. Uske walidain Karachi mein thay aur woh ghar par akela tha.

Woh TV dekh raha tha jab naukar uska nashta laya. Usse kuch yaad aaya aur usne nokrani Nasira ko bulaya, jo thodi dair mein aa gayi.

"Mujhe tumse ek kaam hai," usne adhi umr ki aurat se kaha.

"Tumhari beti Waseem ke ghar kaam karti hai, theek? Woh wahan kis waqt jati hai?" Salar ne remote control neeche rakha aur uski taraf dekha.

"Haan, woh wahan hai... woh abhi wahan hai." Woh uski taraf thoda hairan hokar dekhti hai.

"Kyun? Kya hua, Salar sahib?"

"Kuch nahi. Mujhe bas yeh mobile usay dena hai. Usse kehna yeh phone Imama ko de." Salar ne aaram se cell phone pakraya.

Nasira pareshan thi. "Mujhe aap ki baat samajh nahi ayi, sir."

"Yeh phone apni beti ko do aur usse kehna ke yeh Imama ko de de bina kisi ko bataye," usne dheet pan se kaha.

"Lekin kyun? Aur agar kisi ko pata chal gaya to?"

"Tumhe jaan'ne ki zaroorat nahi," usne tez lehje mein kaha, "aur logon ko tabhi pata chalega agar tum ya tumhari beti apne bade moonh kholengi. Aur tumhari museebat hogi agar aisa kiya... lekin agar tum chup raho to yeh raaz rahega aur tumhara bhi faida hoga."

Bina kuch kahe, Nasira ne phone utha liya. Salar ne usay phir se chetavani di. Jab woh jaane lagi, to usne usay roka. Apne wallet se kuch paise nikal kar usay diye, aur usne thodi muskurahat ke sath le liye.

Yeh ameer logon ke gharon mein ek mamooli surat-e-haal thi—woh unke bachon ke raaz jaanti thi aur unhein chupana ek acha tareeqa tha extra paisay kamane ka. Usne yeh nateeja nikala ke Salar aur Imama ke darmiyan kuch chal raha hai aur yeh cell phone ek tohfa hai. Woh khud par hairan thi—yeh usne pehle kyun nahi dekha, aur phir Imama... kya woh shadi nahi kar rahi thi? To phir yeh shararat kyun?

"Aur mujhe lagta tha ke woh kitni achi ladki hai!" Nasira apni is nafrat par hairan thi.

"Abbu, mujhe aapse kuch baat karni hai." Us raat Jalal apne walid ke kamre mein gaya.

"Haan, andar aao. Kya baat hai?" Unhone files se nazar uthayi.

Jalal ne ek kursi kheench kar baitha, lekin kuch kaha nahi. Ansar Javaid, apne bete ke pareshan chehre ko dekh kar, samajh gaye ke kuch ghalat hai.

"Mujhe shadi karni hai." Jalal ne baat bina kisi tamheed ke keh di.

"Tumhe kya karni hai?" Yeh baat sunkar unka betaab hona lajmi tha.

Jalal ne apni baat dohrayi.

"Yeh achanak faisla kaise le liya? Kal tak to tum specialization ke liye bahar jana chahte thay," unhon ne muskurate hue kaha.

"Well... halat aise hain ke mujhe aap se baat karni padi." Unke walid sanjeeda ho gaye; Jalal ne kuch hichkichahat ke sath thodi der ke baad baat aage badhai.

"Kya aapne Zainab ki dost Imama ko dekha hai?"

"Haan. Kya tum usme dilchaspi rakhte ho?" Unke walid ne poocha aur Jalal ne haan mein sar hilaya.

"Lekin woh log bohot ameer hain. Aur waise bhi, woh Musalman nahi hain." Ansar Javaid ka lehja badal gaya.

"Abbu, woh Qadiani hain, lekin usne Islam qabool kar liya hai," Jalal ne samjhaya.

"Kya uske walidain ko pata hai?" unhon ne poocha, aur jab Jalal ka jawab na mein tha, to unhon ne sakhti se use dant diya.

"Kya tumhe lagta hai ke woh yeh rishta maan lenge?"