Gudiya Jo Kabhi Chhuti Hi Nahi – Ek Pita Aur Beti Ki Darawani Kahani

Mera naam Rajesh hai. Mera beti ka naam Anaya hai. Ek din Anaya ne shop se ek purani aur ajeeb si Darawani gudiya khareedi — us gudiya ke bade, khamosh aankhon mein kuch aisa tha jo dil mein ghabrahat jagata tha. Maine pehli baar dekha toh bas ek sasti, thodi purani gudiya thi, lekin Anaya usko lekar ghar aate hi ek ajnabee khamoshi chal rahi thi. Jab gudiya ghar pohanchi, maine use Anaya ke kamre mein rakha. Us kamre ka mahaul badal gaya — ek sard hawa ne kamre mein phel jana shuru kar diya, jaise koi bejaan saaye sab taraf ghoomne lag gaye ho. Maine kaha: “Anaya, ye gudiya dekh kar ajeeb si lag rahi hai,” lekin woh sirf haste hue boli: “Papa, main isse pyar karti hoon.” Phir pattern shuru hua. Har din gudiya location change honi shuru hui — ek raat shelf per thi, agli raat kursi par, kisi raat kamre ke darwaze ke paas khadi thi. Maine har dafa us jagah gudiya wahan rakh di, lekin subah dekhta ke gudiya fir se kahi aur move hui hai. Har move ke saath kamre mein halki awaz—khamosh se sar sar — sunai deti. Teesre din, jab main ne gudiya zameen par rakhi thi, subah dekha ke gudiya Anaya ke khat ke pass khadi hai, jaise koi us par nazar rakh raha ho. Maine Anaya se poocha: “Tumne isse wahan rakha tha?” Uski awaaz mein halki dar tha: “Nahi Papa, isne wahan khud khud chali aayi.” Maine try ki gudiya ko lock box mein lock karne ki, lekin raat ko gudiya box se nikal kar Anaya ke takiye ke pass khadi thi — ek sard khamosh hansee uske chehre par thi. Is pattern ke saath cheeze tez hone lagi. Anaya raat ko kabhi kabhi badi darawani awaazon ke saath jagti aur kehti: “Papa, gudiya mujhe bulati hai.” Maine dekha ke uske kapdon par kondi jalti si nishan ban gayi — jaise kisi ne zakhm kichha diya ho. Uske bal ud gaye the aur wo rote hue mujhe pukarti: “Papa, yeh gudiya mujhe raat bhar dekh kar muskurati hai.” Har subah pattern repeat hota — gudiya apni jagah se hilti, kamra sard ho jata, khamoshi phail jati. Main raat ko dar kar kamre ka darwaza band kar deta, electric light jalata, par uski aankhen andhere mein bhi chamakti rehti. Main ne gudiya ko dhobi ki dori mein lapet kar shed mein bhi bandh diya, lekin agli subah dekha ke gudiya fir Anaya ke kamre mein bed ke bagal khadi thi, ek sard roshni me chamak rahi thi. Ek raat, pattern ke aakhri had par, mujhe gudiya se pure tarah dar laga: usne apni aankhen phir se jhapkayi, ek sard pukaar nikli: “tumse juda nahi ho sakti.” Main palat kar dekha ke Anaya ke saath kuch achanak ho raha hai — Anaya ka chehra murjha gaya, uski awaaz kaafi halki thi, aur uski saans tez. Maine gudiya se film ki tarah hattane ki koshish ki, lekin wo seedhi meri taraf darwaze ke pas aa khadi hui, jaise kehti ho: “ab tera waqt aa gaya.” Pattern ke har element—location change, sard awaaz, Anaya ki pareshani, meri dar—ek sequence me barhta gaya. Aur phir us raat, jab gudiya ne ek tez khamosh pukaar ki, Anaya behosh ho gayi. Maine use uthaya, khuli aankhon se gudiya ko dekhte hue ghar ke sab lantern jala diye — lekin uski sard roshni sab aur chhupi rahi. Subah tak Anaya ne kabhi wapas apni pehli halat mein wapas nahi aayi. Uske chehre par wo hi purani tasveer astonished si, uske haath mein ek dooradadi nishan, aur uske honton pe ek half-smile, par aankhon mein khamoshi. Maine gudiya fenk di ghar ke bahar ke kachre mein, lekin us pattern ka khof ab tak meri gardan pe likha hai. Har raat main sunta hoon Anaya ke kamre se ek sarsari hansee, ek sard pookaar—gudiya ki hi muskurahat. Mujhe ab pata hai ye pattern khatam nahi hota — ye gudiya ab hamare saath har lamha hai. Anaya bhi chup hai, aur main bhi chup hoon. Pattern chal raha hai — har raat gudiya apni jagah se move karti, awaaz kri, roshni chamakti, khamosh dard‑bharri ho jati