Woh gehri neend mein thi. Siyah ghup andhere mein jab door ek cheekhti hui awaaz ne samaat ko cheera. Andhere mein daraar padi. Door se aati awaaz qareeb hoti gayi thi. Usne palkein juda karni chahien to jaise un pe bohot bojh tha.
Bamuskhil aankhein khuli to chand lamhe usay hawas bahaal karne mein lage. Usne ird gird dekha.
Dorm mein pur sukoon si neem tareeki chhayi thi. Konay mein madhum sa night bulb jal raha tha. DJ, Taali aur Cherry apne apne bisteron mein kambal daale so rahi thi. Deewar par aawizaan bade clock ki chamakti suiyaan raat ke ek bajne ka bata rahi thi.
Woh chinghaarti awaaz abhi tak aa rahi thi.
Usne neend se bojhal hota sar daein jaanib ghumaya, kohni ke bal zara ooper hui aur takiye tale haath dal kar mobile nikala. Uska Turkey wala mobile baj baj kar usi pal khamosh hua tha. Do missed calls, usne tafseel kholi to chamakti screen se aankhein pal bhar ko chundhiya gayi. Haya ne palkein sukede haath se baal peeche hatate hue screen ko dekha. "Taya Furqan mobile" — saath bracket mein "2" ka hindsa tha. Haya ne screen ke kone pe likhe time ko dekha. Raat ka ek baj raha tha. Yahaan ek baje tha toh Pakistan mein teen baje honge.
Aadhi raat ko anay wala phone aur mehmaan kabhi achhi khabar nahi laate, aur na receive kar sakne wali call us barchhi ki maanind hoti hai jo koi ghonk kar nikaalna bhool gaya ho.
Uski saari neend aur susti pal bhar mein bhaag gayi. Taya is waqt kyun call kar rahe thay? Woh theek to thay? Ammi, Abbu, Rohail — sab theek to thay? Pata nahi kya masla tha. Woh tadap kar wapas call milane lagi, phir yaad aaya ke usmein balance nahi tha. Usne bebasi se apne Pakistani mobile ko dekha jo takiye ke us taraf rakha tha. Usmein bhi balance khatam tha, balki us phone mein to Turkey aane ke baad balance hi nahi dalwaya tha.
Usne kambal phenka aur seedhiyan philang kar neeche utri. Woh apne night suit mein malboos thi—gulaabi check wala trouser aur khula lamba kurta.
"DJ... DJ... mobile do apna!" Usne DJ ke bunk par chadh kar usko jhanjhoda. Woh bamuskhil hili.
"Neend mat kharab karo meri. Seedhi jahannum mein jaogi tum." DJ ne band aankhon se barabarate hue karwat badli. Uska mobile wahin takiye ke saath rakha tha. Haya ne mobile jhatka aur neeche utri. Tali ke bunk ki kursi kheench kar baithi aur apne mobile se Taya ka number dekh kar DJ ke phone par milane lagi. Phone number Haya Suleman ko kabhi zabani yaad nahi rehte thay.
Number mila kar usne phone kaan se lagaya. Lamhe bhar ki khamoshi ke baad woh machiney aurat Turk mein kuch kehne lagi jiska matlab yeh tha ke DJ zaleel ka balance bhi khatam tha. Usne jhunjhla kar phone kaan se hataya. "European Union ka saara scholarship Istiklal Street aur Cevahir mein shopping pe uda dene walion ke saath yehi hona chahiye tha."
Usi pal phone phir se baja—Taya Furqan calling. Usne jhat se call uthayi.
"Hello...?"
"Haya... Tumhare paas is number ke ilawa kaunsa doosra number hai?" Woh Taya Furqan hi thay aur itne gusse se bole thay ke woh kaanp gayi.
"Ji... kya?"
"Haya! Mere saath bakwas mat karo, mujhe batao tumhare paas doosra koi number hai?" Woh neend se jaagi thi aur kabhi bhi itni haazir-dimaag nahi rahi thi. Magar saari baat samajhne mein usay lamha na laga. Eram pakri gayi thi. Eram aadhi raat ko kisi se phone par baat karti pakdi gayi thi. "Nahi, Taya Abba! Mere paas yehi ek number hai aur doosra vo phone ka jo aap ke paas already hai."
"Tumhare paas Mobilink ka koi number nahi hai?"
"Nahi, Taya Abba! Aap beshak Abba se poochh lein. Ye number unke naam hai. Aur maine doosra number rakh kar kya karna hai?"
"Acha, theek hai." Unhone khatt se phone band kar diya. Usne gehri saans le kar mobile kaan se hataya aur doosre haath se chehre pe aaye baal samet kar peeche kiye.
