jannat ke pattay...[Leaves Of Paradise]

part 28

"Fifty five... twenty five... fifty five... twenty five... DJ ne chupke se currency ki qeemat ka hisaab lagaya aur jab woh bahar nikle, unka aabroo yaad kiya. Jab airport ka darwaza khula, sard hawa, haddiyan thandi hui aur khoon jamnay wali lehar unka swagat kuch lamhon ke liye kiya.

Sharm ki honth neela hone lage. Murree aur Abbottabad ke sab se thanday maqamat bhi bar bar zyada sardi mehsoos hui. Unka samaan khaas tor par bhari aur oodhar tha. Dono larkey, beige rang ke hoodies mein lapete hue, apni boriyon ke saath larr rahe thay.

Be ikhtiyar, unhone apne baazu apne seenon ke charon taraf lapet liye. Unki sardi lag rahi thi.

"Kya tum sach mein sirf paanch mahine ke liye yahan ho?" Chughtai ne beghairatana poucha, aur Ahmet mudda badal diya. "Hamari riwayat hai ke jo bhi airport se Istanbul aata hai, hum sab se pehle unhe Sultan Abu Ayub Ansari ke mazaar le jaate hain. Ye unke Turkey mein rehne ke liye acha hai." Ahmet ne kaha, gaadi mein boriyan rakhne ke liye ishara karte hue.

Magar Haya ne ek halki awaaz mein beech mein aakar roka.

"Magar Haya, ye to shirk aur but parasti hai..."

Usne DJ ko taqatwar tor par khamosh kar diya aur phir uske kaan mein halki si awaaz mein kaha. "Hum ghar mein is par guftagu karenge."

"Agar hum in auraton se is sardi mein jhagadte hain, to yahan chod denge, pagal! Maut ke samundar mein pighal jaayenge." Chughtai ne kaha, barf se dhaki zameen ki taraf dekhte hue.

Yes! Allah karey raat waqai barf na parey. Ahmed ne tasdeeq ki.

Haya aur DJ ne aik dosrey ko dekha aur phir DJ aahista se urdu mein barayi.

Eway na parey... Khuda to barf baari dekh dekh kar ikattha chukay hain, humein to dekhne dein. Allah karey, raat barf

zaroor parey Ameen, phir Ameen. Aur Haya ne dil mein is ki tasdeeq ki.

Wand screen ke is paar Europen sheher ka ikhtitam dikhayi de raha tha. Agay neela samundar beh raha tha aur is ke doosri taraf Istanbul ka Asian hissa abaad tha. Dono hisson ko aik azeem ul shan pul ne jora tha. Do khaton ka milaap,

do tehzebo ka sangam...

Marmara ke samundar ka jo hissa Istanbul ke darmiyan se guzarta hai, usay Bosporus ka samundar kaha jata hai. Is pul ka

naam bhi Bosphorus Bridge hai. Ahmed batanay laga.

Magar hum to mazaar par ja rahe thay jo ke Europen hisse mein hai, phir pul uboor karnay ka maqsad? Qareeb aate pul ko dekh

kar hayaanay hairat se poocha, kiyonke pul ke is taraf Anatolian sheher tha.

Hum ne pul uboor nahi karna, is ke qareeb se kisi ko utthana hai. Hum dono yahan se chale jayenge, agay mazaar

tak aap ko isi ne le kar jana hai.

Chughtai ne gaari aik taraf rok di. Ahmed bike khol kar bahar nikal raha tha.

Haya ne is khoobsurat, oonchay pul ko dekha aur socha

keh kitne baras woh isi pul par se guzra hoga. Kitni hi dafa us ne Bosphorus ke neelay paani pe chand ki pariyo car qas

dekha hoga. Jab woh us se mile gi to kya us ki aankhon mein Istanbul ki sfaid ghaas si barf jami hogi ya marmara

ke paaniyon ka josh hoga? Aur kya woh kabhi us se mil paaye gi? Is khayal par uska dil jaise marmara ke samundar mein

dub kar kisi lati pati kashti ki tarah hule se ubhar aatha.

Khadi ke is paar se aik daraaz qad larki car ki taraf chali aarahi thi. Chehre ke gird scarf late, blue jeans

ke oopar ghotnon tak ata safed coat pehne, woh coat ke jebon mein haath daale sir jhukaye chalti aarahi thi. Us ki

rungat Istanbul ke sooraj ki sunehri aur ankhain no jhal badalon ki tarah surmai thi.

Woh larki un dono turk larkon ke paas pahunchi aur muskuratay hue chughtai ke haath se chabi li. Ahmed peeche

kharhi high ace ki taraf ishara kar ke kuch kehne laga. Woh larki apni narm muskurahat ke saath sar hilati sunti gayi. Phir wo Dono larke chale gaye aur woh larki car ki taraf ayi. Darwaza khula aur driving seat par beth kar gardan peechay ghoomayi.

"Salam Alaikum... Aur Turkey mein khush aamdeed... Is ki angrezi shustah aur andaaz be had narm tha." Haya ne mehsoos kiya ke Turkey "Assalamu Alaikum" ke bajaye "Salamun Alaikum" kehtay thay.

"Wa Alaikum Assalam." Haya ne is ka bara hawa hath thaama to ussay laga, uss ne itna narm hath kabhi nahi chhua. Woh hath nahi goya makkhan ka tukda tha.

"Meer Anam Hale Noor hai, mera taluq Rumi Forum se hai. Main Spanglish mein Material Science aur Engineering mein MS kar rahi hoon. Airport par aapko lene ke liye bhi mujhe hi aana tha, magar main kahin phans gayi thi, is liye nahi aas saki, bohot maazrat." Usne car wapis mordi thi.

"Haya Saliman..."

"Khadija Rana..."

Unke taaruf ko Hale Noor ne apni khaas muskurahat ke saath suna aur sir asbat mein hilaaya. Woh waqai Noor ka khalaa thi. Dhalay hui chaandni.

"Ab hum Ansari Mohalla ja rahe hain." Woh steering ghumaate hue boli.

"Mohalla? Urdu wala mohalla, Haya!" DJ ne dheere se sar goshe ki.

"Shayad... Tab hi to kehte hain ke Urdu Turkey se nikli hai, tum ne metric mein Urdu zubaan ke mazmoon mein is firqay ka tajzia nahi lagaya tha kya ke, lafz Urdu Turk zubaan se nikla hai jis ke matlab..."

"Lashkar ke hain bari..." DJ ne chehak kar firqah mukammal kiya.

"Ayub Sultan Jama "ke bahari bazaar ka naam hai Ansari Mohalla. Bohat zyada rush, bohat se log aur har sootey, chiktey kabootar, woh teeno logon ke darmiyan mushkil raasta bana te masjid ke aahat tak pohanchi thi."

Namaz se farigh ho kar Haya ne dekha, wahan Jama Masjid ka naam Eyup Sultan Camii likha tha. Usne socha ke Jama Masjid mein ki jagah C likha hai, jo ke ghalat lag raha tha. Hamari zubaan mein C ko Arabic ke jeem ki awaaz se parha jata hai. Ansari Mohalla ke rush se guzarte hue uski hairat par Hale ne bataya. Woh muskurahi badi aitmaad se apne safaid coat ki jebon mein haath daale chal rahi thi. Uski baat par Haya be ikhtiyar chonki.

"Haairan kyun ho? Hale ne ruk kar shapar se apne joote nikaalte hue usay dekha. Wahan masjid mein dakhilay ke waqt joote bahar rakhne ke bajaye shapar mein rakhne aur saath shapar hamesha uthaye rakhne ka rawaj tha.

"Yani agar kisi ka naam Jehan ho to woh Turk hijon mein use kaise likhe ga? Bila irada us ke labon se nikla. Phir foran gur badha kar DJ ko dekha. Woh zara faslay par kabootron ki tasweerain kheench rahi thi. Usne nahi suna tha.

Hale thist ban mein shapar phenk kar seedhi hui aur muskurakar mujhe kar ke bataya. "(Cihan)"

"Oh!" Usne halka sa sar jhataka. Tab hi woh usay Facebook par nahi mila tha. Woh usay jihan likh kar dhoondti rahi, magar woh to apne naam ko Cihan likhta hoga.

Gali saaf suthri aur kushadah thi. Dono taraf dukaan ke darwazay khulay thay. Agay kursiyan mezein bichi thi aur bahut se istaal lagay thay. Sadak ke kinaray par khule aam kutte tehleel rahe thay. Magar woh bhonkte nahi thay.

Haya ko bhook lag rahi thi aur woh ab is safarname se bore hone lagi thi. Mushkil se woh teeno is rush bhare mohallay se niklein.

"Aik chheeng students ko un ka pehla khaana ek Turk mizban khandan deta hai. Aur abhi hum ishi mizban khandan ke ghar ja rahe hain."

Jab woh car mein Bosphorus Bridge se guzar rahi thi to Hale ne bataya. Khana sun kar us par chhaye bezaariyat zara kam hui.

Mizban khandan ka ghar Istanbul ke aik posh ilaake mein waqia tha. Kushadah sadak, khoobsurat banglon ki qataar, aur banglon ke samne sabziyon pe jami baraf.

Unke scholarship ko coordinator ne kuch baatein unhen yaad dilaayi thi ke:

Turkey mein joote ghar se bahar utaarne hain...