Main kahaniyaan sirf bolta nahi tha… mehsoos karata tha.
Aur phir ek din, woh kahani bani… jo sirf imagination mein nahi, har kisi ke badan mein उतरने लगी।
Uska naam nahi loonga… lekin tum samajh jaoge.
She walked into class like she owned the silence. Uske heels ka click-click kisi metronome ki tarah chalta tha—perfectly timed, perfectly poised. Har step mein control… aur har gesture mein temptation.
Woh black satin blouse… halki si transparent. Neckline, just low enough to raise questions… par jawab kabhi na milein.
Main kahani shuru karta—“Ek din chalk uske haath se gira… aur jaise hi woh jhuki… meri saans bhi.”
Sab hila nahi, sab ruk gaya. Eyes locked, jaws tight. Ek aisi stillness jis mein har kisi ne apna version imagine kiya.
“Uski kamar ek smooth arc mein jhukti hai… aur wo ek second zyada rukti hai—as if she knows we’re watching. Jaise yeh koi accident nahi… ek carefully written script hai.”
Tab main unhe le jaata tha us moment mein…
“Class khatam hoti hai, sab chale jaate hain. Main uske table ke paas ruka rehta hoon. She turns… aankhon mein ek softness, par zubaan par ek command—‘Shut the door.’”
Aur uske baad… silence.
Ek aisi khamoshi jisme imagination wild ho jaati hai.
Meri kahani kabhi explicit nahi hoti… par har lafz skin pe lagta hai.
Main kabhi kuch directly nahi kehta… par logon ko woh sab sunai deta hai jo maine sirf socha hota hai.
Kyuki meri kahaniyaan chillati nahi… woh füsfüsa ke andar utarti hain. Jaise lipstick ka ek invisible mark… ya perfume ka woh note, jo subah tak pillow pe reh jaata hai.
Aur main?
Main sirf kahani nahi sunata…
Main fantasies breathe karta hoon.
