Chapter 2— Mask ke peeche wala shaks

Taxi Seoul ki roshan sadkon se guzar rahi thi. Anaya ne khidki se bahar dekha — neon signs, bulandiyon tak jaate hue buildings, log jo teiz raftar se chal rahe the jaise unke paas rukne ka waqt hi nahi. Yeh shehr Karachi se bilkul mukhtalif tha, lekin Anaya ke liye har naya shehr ek jaisa hi hota tha — sirf ek aur jagah jahan usse apna raasta khud dhoondna hota.

Uska phone baja. Zara ka reply aaya:

*"Kuch khaas nahi?? Anaya main jaanti hoon tum kuch chhupa rahi ho. Bata!"*

Anaya muskurayi. Zara usse itni ache se jaanti thi ke jhoot bolna mumkin hi nahi tha.

*"Theek hai theek hai. Ek bacha bachaya airport pe. Kuch khaas nahi, sach mein."*

*"ANAYA TUM NE KISI KI JAAN BACHAI AUR KEHTI HO KUCH KHAAS NAHI?? Main tumhe jaanti hoon, tum kabhi khud ko hero nahi samajhti. Lekin main samajhti hoon. Meri hero."*

Anaya ne apni ankhen band ki, phone seene se laga liya. Kabhi kabhi Zara ki mohabbat itni sadi lekin itni gehri hoti thi ke Anaya ko lagta jaise woh khud ko us mohabbat ke laayak nahi samajhti.

*"Tum meri hero ho, Zara. Hamesha se."*

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Hotel abhi bhi das minute door tha jab taxi driver ne ruk kar Korean mein kuch kaha, ishaara karte hue ke aage rasta band hai — koi construction ya accident, Anaya samajh nahi payi. Usne ishaare se poocha ke kya woh yahan se paidal chal sakti hai, aur driver ne sar hila kar map par ek chota rasta dikhaya.

"Theek hai," Anaya ne khud se kaha, bag utha kar taxi se utar gayi. Woh raaton ko akele chalne se darti nahi thi — yeh uske liye naya nahi tha.

Gali tang thi, dono taraf purani deewaron ke saath, upar se latakte hue bijli ke taar aur ek do roshan dukanein jo band ho chuki thi. Sannata tha, sirf door kahin se music ki halki awaaz aa rahi thi.

Tabhi usne kisi ki saans sunayi — teiz, dard mein, kisi deewar ke peeche se.

Anaya ruk gayi. Uska pehla khayal yeh nahi tha ke khud ko bachaye — balke yeh tha ke koi madad ke liye pukaar raha hai.

Woh ahista se aawaz ki taraf badhi. Deewar ke peeche, andhere mein, ek aadmi baitha tha — apni jacket ka hood chadhaye, chehre par ek simple black mask, jaisa log bemari se bachne ke liye pehante hain. Uske haath uski taang par the, aur woh dard se kaanp raha tha.

"Aap theek hain?" Anaya ne poocha, angrezi mein, phir samajh kar body language se hi apna sawaal repeat kiya.

Aadmi ne sar utha kar dekha. Mask ke upar sirf uski ankhen nazar aa rahi thi — thaki hui, dard mein, lekin kisi tarah tez bhi.

"Main... theek hoon," usne toota-phoota angrezi mein kaha, awaaz mein dard chhupane ki koshish. "Bas... mera pair..."

Anaya ne uske paas ghutne tek diye, uski taang ki taraf dekha bina chhue. "Kya hua?"

"Gir gaya. Bhaag raha tha," aadmi ne kaha, phir jaldi se add kiya, "Log peeche the. Camera ke saath."

Anaya ki bhaun uth gayi. *Camera?*

"Aap kisi mushkil mein hain?" usne poocha.

Aadmi khamosh raha, jaise faisla kar raha ho ke kitna bataye. Phir usne apna hood thoda neeche kiya, sirf itna ke Anaya uski shakal ka ek hissa dekh sake — jawaan chehra, sharp features, aankhon mein woh thakaan jo sirf bohat der se chhupne wale logon mein hoti hai.

"Aap mujhe nahi jaanti," usne kaha, jaise yeh khud ek ajeeb baat ho.

"Nahi," Anaya ne saaf kaha. "Jaanni chahiye?"

Aadmi ki ankhon mein ek pal ke liye hairaniyat chamki — phir kuch aur, jo shayad sukoon tha. "Nahi," usne ahista se kaha. "Shayad yehi behtareen baat hai."

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Anaya ne apna bag kholte hue apna chota first-aid kit nikala — woh hamesha apne saath rakhti thi, safar ki aadat ki wajah se. "Dikhaiye," usne kaha, "main dekh sakti hoon shayad."

Aadmi ne pehle mana kiya, phir dard ki wajah se haar maan li. Anaya ne uski jeans ka neeche ka hissa thoda upar kiya — ankle sujj gayi thi, lekin haddi tooti nahi lagti thi.

"Yeh sprain hai," Anaya ne kaha, apne kit se bandage nikalte hue. "Torn nahi hai, lekin aapko aaram karna hoga. Kal chalna mushkil hoga."

"Kal main perform karna hai," aadmi bola, awaaz mein pehli baar sachi ghabrahat.

"Perform?" Anaya ne uski taraf dekha, bandage lagate hue. "Aap actor hain?"

Aadmi ne ek ajeeb si muskurahat di, jo mask ke neeche se bhi Anaya ko mehsoos hui. "Kuch aisa hi."

Anaya ne shrug kiya. Usse farq nahi padta tha yeh aadmi kaun tha — model, actor, ya koi bhi. "Ice lagaiye jaldi ho sake, aur pair ko upar rakhiye. Bandage kas ke lagaya hai, lekin doctor se dikhwa lena kal."

Usne bandage khatam ki aur apna kit band karne lagi.

"Aap ko pata nahi mera naam bhi," aadmi ne kaha, ajeeb si awaaz mein — jaise woh khud confuse ho ke yeh baat kyun keh raha hai.

"Zaroorat hai kya?" Anaya ne poocha, seedhi lekin narm awaaz mein, apna bag uthate hue khadi ho gayi.

"Nahi," usne kaha. Phir, ruk kar: "Haan. Shayad. Main... Kang Seo-Jun."

Anaya ne sar hilaya, jaise yeh naam kisi ordinary aadmi ka naam ho. "Theek raho, Seo-Jun. Aur ice mat bhoolna."

Woh palatne lagi.

"Ruko—" Seo-Jun ne kaha, apni awaaz mein woh larzish jo uski position mein kisi aadmi ki nahi honi chahiye thi. "Aap... aap ka shukriya kaise ada karoon?"

Anaya ne palat kar dekha, uski ankhon mein sirf sukoon tha, koi ehsaan ki umeed nahi. "Shukriya ki zaroorat nahi. Bas apna khayal rakhna."

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Woh gali se bahar nikal gayi, apna raasta phir se dhoondte hue map ki taraf dekhti hui, bekhabar is baat se ke peeche, andhere mein baithe hue Kang Seo-Jun — jise duniya "Jeo" ke naam se jaanti thi, Korea ke sabse bade idol group Obsidian ka leader — apna mask utaar kar uski jaane wali surat ko dekh raha tha, jaise koi khwaab dekh raha ho jo abhi khatam ho gaya ho.

Uske phone mein missed calls ki list thi — manager, security, sab log usse dhoond rahe the kyunki paparazzi ne usse bina mask dekh liya tha kisi cafe ke bahar, aur woh bhaagte hue yahan tak aa gaya tha, apna pair mod baitha.

Lekin abhi, is pal mein, usse kisi ki fikar nahi thi. Sirf ek sawaal uske zehan mein ghoom raha tha:

*Uska naam kya tha? Maine poocha bhi nahi.*

Woh khud par hansa, halke se, dard ke bawajood. Kitni ajeeb baat thi — Kang Seo-Jun, jo lakhon logon ke naam yaad rakhta tha, apne fans ke chhote chhote messages tak yaad rakhta tha, aaj ek shaks se mila jiska naam usse pata bhi nahi chala. Sirf ek niqab, do roshan ankhein, aur ek awaaz jo bina kisi ehsaan ki umeed ke madad karti thi.

*Mask girl,* usne khud se socha, kyunki koi behtar naam uske zehan mein nahi aaya. *Woh mask girl jo mujhe nahi jaanti thi.*

Aur pehli baar bohat saalon mein, Seo-Jun ko is baat se darr nahi laga — usse sukoon mila.

Uska phone phir baja. Manager ka message:

*"Haru ro raha hai. Poochh raha hai aap kahan hain. Jaldi aayen."*

Seo-Jun ki ankhon mein foran hi pareshani aa gayi. Usne apna hood theek kiya, dard ke bawajood khada hua, aur ahista ahista chalna shuru kiya — apne bete ki taraf, apni doosri zindagi ki taraf, jahan koi usse "Jeo" nahi, sirf "appa" kehta tha.

Lekin us gali mein, chand minute ke liye, woh sirf ek aadmi tha jise ek ajnabi ladki ne bina kuch jaane madad ki thi.

Aur woh bhoolne wala nahi tha.

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