Ghazal Ki Leher (English Version Below)

Us din, jab maine usey ghazal event par invite kiya, mere dil mein ek umeed thi, ek chhoti si khushi thi. Ham dono ko ghazal ka shauk tha, aur shayad isi liye hamare taar aur vichar milte the. Pop songs bhi sunte they, lekin jab ek hi earphone mein ghazal sunte, toh wo lamha kuch alag hi hota. Uska sir mere kandhe par jhuk jata, aur ek sukoon sa mehsoos hota, jaise sab kuch theek hai.

Woh meri flat-mate thi, kuch waqt se meri dost bhi ban gayi thi. Hamare beech ka rishta dheere dheere badh raha tha, par dono ne kabhi us mod par baat nahi ki thi. Shayad, hum dono ko ek dusre ka saath hi kaafi lagta tha, bina kisi social Tag ke.

Jab maine usse dekha, toh lagbhag ek pal ke liye meri saansein tham gayi. Vo ek traditional suit mein behadd khubsurat lag rahi thi. Aaj kal ke is Gen-Z zamane mein, aise events ke liye kya pehna jaye, ye toh samajh hi nahi aata. Maine hamesha ki tarah jeans aur t-shirt pehni, toh usne muskurate hue kaha, "Ghazal event hai, club nahi. Jeans utaaro." Uski aankhon mein ek mazak tha, lekin meri dil ki dhadkan tez ho gayi thi.

"Utaar doon?" Maine mazak mein usey chidaate huye kaha. Vo halka sa blush karte hue boli, "Traditional wear karo, tumse badi hun, baat mana karo." Wo mujhse ek saal badi thi. Bas isi baat ko le kar najaane kitni baatein usne manvayi this. However, us pal mein mujhe laga, vo sirf muskura rahi thi, par us muskurahat ke peeche there was something else, jaise wo mere dil ki baat jaanti ho. Maine bhi chupchap uski baat maan li, aur apne kapde badalne chala gaya.

Wapas aaya, toh usne change karke ab saree pehni thi. Pehle toh behadd khubsurat lag rahi thi, now she was looking "Stop Eating Hot" which is like the highest level of hotness. Uski saree ke paloo se khushbu aa rahi thi, aur har ada mein ek naya andaaz tha. Ye vo ladki thi jise maine hamesha dosti ki nazar se dekha tha, lekin aaj, har baat alag lag rahi thi. Hamara rishta, jo hamesha dosti tak simit raha tha, aaj kuch aur kehne ko tayar tha.

Jab hum ghazal event par pahunche, shayari hawa mein thi, aur har nazar ek khoj mein thi. Uski aankhon se ek ajeeb sa sukoon mere dil mein utar gaya. Maine notice kiya, uski chhoti chhoti harkatein—jaise uska latt sawarna,  ya shayari sunte waqt halke se hami bharte huye hath uthana—ab mujhme ghul raha tha. Ek ghazal ke beech main ‘waah waah’ kar raha tha, aur vo nazre jhuka kar anand le rahi thi. Uski muskurahat mere dil ke har kone mein dard aur khushi ka ehsaas chhod jaati thi.

Lekin phir, jab ek ghazal ne use emotional kar diya, vo meri bahn ko pakad kar qarib aayi aur usne apna sir mere kandhe par jhuka diya. Mujhe laga, shayad uske dil mein bhi kuch hai. Mere labh uske maathe se chhu gaye, aur ek ashq bhi us ki maang par gir gya. Us pal laga jaise hum ek pal mein bandhe hue ho. Us pal mein kuch badla tha, lekin hum dono chup the.

Uska sir uthana, aur phir halki si sharmaahat... jaise usne mehsoos kiya ho ke hamare beech kuch badal raha hai. Lekin, us sharmaahat mein thoda confusion bhi tha. Kya hum dono yahi chaahte hain? Kya ye sirf meri feelings thi? Kya wo bhi ye sab mehsoos karti thi? Shayad wo apni feelings ko samajhne ki koshish kar rahi thi, jaise main kar raha tha.

Aur tab, ek ghazal ki line aayi: "Sir kis taraf jhukayun, tujhe dekhne ke baad." Is par usne zyada zor se ‘waah waah’ ki, jaise wo ghazal ke har shabd mein apne jazbaat khoj rahi ho. Maine bhi, apne dil ki dhadkanon ko dabaane ki koshish ki, par jo baat dil mein thi, use chupana aasan nahi tha. Shayari ke beech, kab hum ek dusre ke saaye ban jaate hain, kabhi samajh nahi aata. Thoda vo mujh mein, aur thoda main usme dikhne lagta hoon. Ham dono ek hi raag ke sur ban chuke thay.

Raat ko jab hum wapas flat aaye, maine notice kiya ki uske chehre par ek shanti thi. Usne apna dupatta sambhalte hue ek chhoti si muskurahat di, jaise uss raat ke baad sab kuch badalne wala ho. Main apne andar ke lafzon ko sametne ki koshish karta raha, lekin keh nahi paya. Shayad abhi waqt nahi tha, ya shayad... waqt yahi tha. Aur main bas dekhta rah gaya, ek naye safar ki shuruaat ka intezaar karte hue, jaise ghazal ki ek nayi leher ka aaghaaz ho raha ho.


(Same but in English)

When I invited her to the ghazal event that day, I had a small hope in my heart: a quiet happiness. We both shared a love for ghazals; maybe that’s why our thoughts and feelings often resonated. We listened to pop songs too, but when we would listen to a ghazal together, sharing the same earphone, it felt different. Her head would rest on my shoulder, and I’d feel a sense of calm like everything was just right.

She was my flatmate, and over time, she had become my friend too. Our relationship was slowly growing, but neither of us had ever spoken about what it could become. Maybe we both felt that just having each other's company was enough, without needing any social label for it.

When I saw her that day, my heart skipped a beat. She looked stunning in a traditional suit. In today’s Gen-Z world, deciding what to wear to such events is hard. I was in my usual jeans and t-shirt, and she smiled and said, “It’s a ghazal event, not a club. Lose the jeans.” There was a playful glint in her eyes, but my heart raced.

“Should I really take them off?” I teased her back. Blushing slightly, she replied, “Wear something traditional, I’m older than you. Learn to listen.” She was a year older than me, and she’d made me follow so many of her whims based on that fact. However, at that moment, I felt she was smiling, but behind that smile, there was something else, as if she knew what was in my heart. I quietly went and changed into something more traditional, just like she asked.

When I returned, she had changed too, and now she was wearing a saree. She had already looked beautiful before, but now she was looking “Stop Eating Hot”—which is the highest level of hotness. The scent of her saree’s pallu filled the air, and every movement of hers had a new grace. This was the girl I had always looked at as a friend, but today, everything felt different. Our relationship, which had always stayed within the bounds of friendship, now seemed ready to say something more.

When we reached the ghazal event, poetry filled the air, and every gaze seemed to be searching for something. There was a strange sense of peace that settled in my heart from her presence. I noticed the small things she did—like the way she would tuck her hair behind her ear, or lightly raise her hand in agreement while listening to a couplet—they all started to blend into me. In the middle of a ghazal, I was praising it out loud with a “waah waah,” while she sat quietly, her eyes lowered, savouring the poetry. Her smile left both pain and joy in the corners of my heart.

Then, one ghazal made her emotional. She grabbed my arm and leaned closer, resting her head on my shoulder. For a moment, I thought maybe she felt something too. My lips brushed against her forehead, and a single tear from my eye fell on her hair parting. In that instant, it felt as though we were bound together in a single moment. Something changed between us, but we both remained silent.

She lifted her head, and there was a slight shyness on her face, as if she too had felt that something was changing between us. But in that shyness, there was a bit of confusion as well. Was this what we both wanted? Were these just my feelings? Was she feeling the same? Maybe she was trying to understand her own feelings, just as I was.

And then, a line from a ghazal played: "Sar kis taraf jhukaun, tujhe dekhne ke baad (Which way should I bow my head, after having seen you?)" On this, she applauded louder, as if searching for her own emotions in every word of the ghazal. I, too, tried to calm the racing beats of my heart, but it was too loud to hide what was so deeply felt. Amidst the poetry, there comes a point where we become shadows of each other, without even realizing it. A little bit of her was in me, and a little bit of me was now showing in her. We had become the same notes of a melody.

Later that night, when we returned to the flat, I noticed a certain peace on her face. Adjusting her dupatta, she gave me a small smile, as if to say that everything was about to change after that night. I tried to gather the words in my heart, but I couldn’t say them. Maybe it wasn’t the right time yet, or maybe... this was exactly the right time. And I just stood there, waiting for the beginning of a new journey, like the start of a new wave in a ghazal.