Sach hote Khwaab

Jazbaat - A prequel

March of 1951, three and a half years since I got separated from my Amrit, three and a half years since I had last seen her, three and a half years since I had last held her hand, three and a half years since I had last heard her say my name.

And that name engraved in my heart had now been engraved on every inch of these prison walls. The hope to see her again had been like burning fire within me, which had kept me alive these years. The image of her in my heart, had been my anchor through this never ending darkness in the prison.

Unki surat kaise bhula de hum
Ek wahi to hai jo in andhero main hume panah deti hai
Apne bheetar humare saare gham samet leti hai

This one thought had occupied my mind in such a manner that all I could do was talk about her to anyone and everyone I found around me, be it a jailor or a fellow prisoner. Maine sabko is tarah pagal kar rakha tha ki mujhe yakeen hai meri mohabbat se sabko mohabbat ho gayi thi !

Many of them sincerely prayed that I be released from the prison soon. They had also made me promise that I would write to them when after I reunite with her. And I had happily agreed.
There was one particular prison guard, who had become a dear companion to me – Aamil Abdullah.
He had written a few letters to the authorities requesting my release from the prison.

It seems mine and their prayers had finally been answered because Aamil Miyan had informed me yesterday that I would be released from the prison tomorrow . My happiness knew no bounds. I would actually be a free man again. I would be back with my Amrit and my parents soon. I knew, it would be difficult to find them but I would spare no effort. And I trusted myself enough that I would find them soon enough.

It was an ordinary morning for everyone else but for me it was a dawn of a new chapter in my life. Aamil Miyan has just come holding today's newspaper. He often read me articles from it if he liked any.

' Subah Bakhair Randheer Sahab'
'Subah Bakhair Aamil miyan. To bataiye kya mila aapko aaj ke akhbar mein?'
'Janaab aaj to ek prem kahani chhapi hai akhbaar mein. Mujhe to bohot pasand aayi. Aap sunna chahenge ?'
'Ji zaroor. Ek aur mauka milega mujhe apni Raanjhan ko yaad karne ka. Sunaiye sunaiye !'
' Ji to kahani ka naam hai "Pyaar bhare nain".
' Janaab naam to hindi lag raha hai ?!'
'Randheer Sahab, aaj 'Munsif Daily' aaya nahi hai. Kuch masla raha hoga. Aur ye akhbaar to roz hi aata yahaan. Kai jailor hai jo urdu nahi balki hindi akhbaar padhna pasand karte hain'
'Oh. Bhale hi batwara ho gaya ho, par ab bhi yahan ke log hindi bhasha ki itni izzat karte hain ye jaan kar sachmuch bohot khushi hui janaab. Chaliye ab kahaani bhi suna dijiye'

And he read out the story to me. The story took me back to Lahore. It was very beautifully written. I knew the writing style very well as if I had worked with the author very closely. Could it be her? I would soon know.

'Janaab aur ye akhir mein alag se do lafz likhe hai. Maaloom hota hai koi khoofiya paigaam ho.
"Ek tangewale ke intezaar mein, ek burkhewali",'
'Kya kaha aapne ? Taangewala ?! Burkhewali ?! Ye sachmuch akhbaar mein likha hai'
I lliterally ran towards the bars and popped my head out.
'Haan Randheer sahab, ye dekhiye'.
And I saw it written there. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. And there it was, the writer's name – Amrit Sahni. This was true. I wasn't dreaming.
'Janaab aapne kaha ye akhbaar yahan roz aata hai. Matlab pehle ke bhi kayi akhbaar honge. Aap mere liye unhe dhoond ke laa sakte hain?! – I pleaded.
'Ji vo to main le aata hoon par hua kya ? Ek minute. Kahin ye kahaani likhne waali aapki mehbooba to nahi ?!'
'Haan janaab, shayad bhagwaan bhi mujh par meherbaan hai. Yahan se jaane se pehle hi mujhe meri manzil ka raasta dikha rahe hain. Aap jald se jald vo akhbaar dhoond laiye na !'
Sensing the urgency in my voice, he rushed to do the same.
He returned a while later with a pile of newspapers – old and new, and handed them to me.
And on the tenth page of every newspaper, I found a new story written by my Amrit. And at the end of every story, the same lines – "Ek taangewale ke intezaar mein, ek burkhewali".