Aakhirat

Mountains

It was early in the morning, the old man carefully tied his shoelaces, his body swathed in warm, refined clothes. Despite his age, he was determined to conquer the mountain today—a dream he'd nurtured for decades.

In stark contrast, his daughter was still deep in sleep, nestled under the cozy blankets, oblivious to the world outside. Her soft snores filled the room, a sound that brought a smile to his face as he quietly packed the remaining items into his bag.

Before leaving, he paused to write a brief note, folding the paper neatly and placing it on the side table next to the lamp. He glanced once more at his sleeping daughter, then slipped out of the hotel room, closing the door gently behind him.

The crisp mountain air greeted him as he mounted his bike and rode to the base of one of the most majestic peaks in the Himalayas. The world was blanketed in snow, and the cold was biting, but his excitement kept him warm. Today, he would fulfill a lifelong ambition.

Upon reaching the starting point, he joined a group of trekkers and presented his ID to the guide. His heart raced with anticipation as they began the ascent. The group fell into a line behind the guide, moving at a steady pace through the snow.

Not long after they started, a young man behind the old man called out, "Manna padega, Uncle. Yaha ham jaise jawano ki sanse ful rahi hai, aur aap iss umar mai bhi itni furti se pahad chadh rahe hai."

The old man, leaning slightly on his stick for support, turned and smiled. "Kheti karne wale ka sharir hai, bete," he replied with a wink. "Aajkal ke padhai mai pasina bahane wale na samjhe!".

Laughter rippled through the group, easing the tension of the climb. As they continued, the altitude began to take its toll, and the younger trekkers started asking the guide for a break.

"I understand you're all tired," the guide said, his voice steady. "Lekin trekking abhi puri nahi hue hai. Ham abhi bhi ek kilometer jitne dur hai hamare pehele padav ke. Rukne ki vyavstha waha karayi gayi hai. So, I suggest, yaha unsafely rukne se achha hai aap chalate rahiye."

While most of the group lagged behind, two figures steadily pushed forward, lost in their own thoughts. The old man, moving with the aid of his stick, suddenly felt the ground shift beneath him. His stick sank into a hidden pocket of soft snow, and he stumbled.

Before he could fall, a firm hand caught him from behind, steadying him. "Aap thik toh hai?" came a familiar voice, filled with concern. "Darsal pura weight stick par nahi dena chahiye, barf ka bharosa nahi kab hamari lathi ko hamara dushman bana de."

The old man chuckled, recognizing the voice. "Lagta hai, kal ki biryani hi wajah thi ham dono tike hue hai iss pahad pai, Haseena beta?".

Haseena's eyes widened as she realized the man she had just saved was the very person she had been thinking about since their meeting the previous day. "Mr. Singh?" she exclaimed, her surprise evident. "Aap yaha? What a surprise..."

"Hame pata nahi tha, doctors itne mehnati hote hai. Aap apne patient ke liye pahad bhi chadh rahe hai?" Mr. Singh teased, his tone light.

Haseena laughed, shaking her head. "Arrh nahi, Uncle. Darsal aapke tour guide hamare kafi karibi dost hai. Unhe koi emergency situation ke liye ek medical officer chahiye the, aur hame pahad bade pasand hai toh iss bar hamne hi volunteer kar diya. Waise, aapki beti nahi dikhai de rahi?"

"Ji, unhe pahad apne subah ke sapno mai dekhna jyada pasand hai na isiliye," Mr. Singh replied, a hint of taunting in his voice.

"Ohh," Haseena responded, though inwardly, her heart was doing a happy dance. She hesitated, then asked, "Waise, Mr. Singh, Pahad hi kyu?"