Virat Mittal ko kabhi kisi naye sheher se darr nahi laga tha.
Mumbai ke shor se aaya tha woh—
traffic ke horn, bade schools, aur un logon ke beech jahan har koi khud ko best sabit karna chahta tha.
Is chhote se sheher ka school usse shuru mein kisi purani tasveer jaisa laga—
thoda dheema, thoda boring.
Par phir bhi…
use yeh jagah pasand aane lagi thi.
Shaayad isliye kyunki yahan log use jaante nahi the.
Na uske surname ka weight,
na uske papa ka business,
na pichhle sheher ki kahaniyaan.
Yahan woh bas Virat tha.
Aur Virat ko attention milna achha lagta tha—
jaise hamesha laga tha.
Class mein ghuste hi sabki nazar us par padti.
Basketball court par jeetne ke baad taaliyaan bajti.
Ladke use follow karte, ladkiyan uske baare mein baatein karti.
Yeh sab uske liye naya nahi tha.
Woh isi mein bada hua tha.
Lekin ek cheez nayi thi.
Woh ladki jo use dekh kar nazar jhuka leti thi.
Virat ne pehli baar Swati Sharma ko notice tab kiya tha,
jab usne use notice nahi kiya tha.
Classroom mein, jab teacher ne use introduce karwaya,
zyadatar ladkiyan uski taraf dekh rahi thi.
Kuch muskurayi, kuch sharmaayi.
Par Swati?
Usne sirf ek pal dekha—
aur phir aankhen neeche.
Jaise dekhna bhi kisi rule ke khilaaf ho.
Weird,
Virat ne socha tha.
Woh dinon din school ka hissa ban gaya.
Har jagah uska naam tha.
Lekin phir bhi, uski aankhen aksar classroom ke ek kone mein jaa kar ruk jaati thi—
jahan Swati baithi hoti thi.
Seedhi si posture,
books hamesha properly stacked,
aur chehra—
jaise hamesha kisi soch mein dooba hua.
Woh kabhi zyada bolti nahi thi.
Na hans kar attention khinchti,
na kisi se compete karti.
Aur shayad isi wajah se,
Virat ko uski taraf khinchav mehsoos hone laga—
bina samjhe kyun.
Library ka woh din Virat bhool nahi paaya.
Uske liye woh sirf ek mazaak tha—
hasi, shor, aur ek aadat.
Swati ka naam lena use us waqt galat nahi laga tha.
Usne socha tha, teacher daantegi, phir baat khatam.
Par jab Swati ki aankhon mein aansu aaye,
aur class ke saamne uski awaaz kaanpi,
Virat ka mann pehli baar heavy ho gaya.
Usne dekha—
kaise woh khud ko sambhaal rahi thi,
kaise woh royi nahi,
kaise usne apni nazar jhukayi nahi.
Aur phir corridor mein—
jab woh ladki uske saamne khadi thi.
"Tumne mera naam kyun liya?"
Us sawaal mein na gussa tha,
na drama.
Sirf hurt tha.
Virat ne pehli baar mehsoos kiya
ki shayad uski baatein sabke liye mazaak nahi hoti.
"Chill,"
usne aadat se kaha tha.
Par jaise hi usne Swati ke chehre par dard dekha,
uska confidence hil gaya.
"Tumhare liye shayad mazaak ho… par mere liye nahi."
Yeh line Virat ke dimaag mein goonjti rahi.
Usne maafi maangi—
bina ego ke,
bina style ke.
Aur jab Swati bina kuch bole chali gayi,
Virat ko laga jaise usne kuch kho diya ho—
jo uske paas kabhi tha hi nahi.
Us din ke baad, Virat badal gaya—
lekin achanak nahi.
Woh pehle jaise hi hansta,
doston ke saath masti karta,
par ab woh sochta bhi tha.
Aur zyada tar…
Swati ke baare mein.
Class mein agar teacher sawaal poochti,
aur Swati jawab deti,
Virat chup ho jaata.
Uski awaaz mein koi ghamand nahi hota tha.
Sirf clarity hoti thi.
Itni confident kaise ho sakti hai, bina show off ke?
Virat ne khud se poocha.
Ek shaam basketball court par practice ke baad,
Virat bench par baitha paani pee raha tha.
Suraj dhal raha tha,
aur school almost khaali ho chuka tha.
Tab usne dekha—
Swati school gate se bahar ja rahi thi, cycle ke saath.
Woh ruk gaya.
Na jaane kyun,
par us pal usse laga
ki woh ladki us duniya ka hissa hai
jahan woh kabhi gaya hi nahi.
Simple.
Quiet.
Real.
"Virat,"
uske dost ne awaaz lagayi,
"chal raha hai?"
Virat ne nazar hata li.
"Haan."
Par us raat,
jab woh bed par leta,
toh neend nahi aa rahi thi.
Uske dimaag mein ek hi khayal ghoom raha tha—
Woh ladki kaun hai… sach mein?
Agla din unexpected tha.
Teacher ne announcement ki—
annual debate competition ke liye names select honge.
Virat ka naam sabse pehle aaya.
Phir…
"Swati Sharma."
Virat ne uski taraf dekha.
Swati thodi nervous thi,
par uski aankhon mein darr ke saath determination bhi tha.
Practice sessions shuru hue.
Aur wahi se unki kahaani ka ek aur mod shuru hua.
Debate room mein sirf do log the—
Virat aur Swati.
Khaamoshi awkward thi.
Virat ne pehle bolne ka faisla kiya.
"About that day… I really meant the apology."
Swati ne sirf sar hila diya.
"No issues."
Par uske "no issues" mein bhi
ek deewar thi.
Virat ne mehsoos ki—
yeh ladki aasaan nahi hai.
Yeh trust time leta hai.
Aur pehli baar,
Virat ko kisi cheez ke liye mehnat karne ka mann hua.
Debate practice ke dauraan,
Virat ne Swati ko badalte dekha.
Woh ladki jo class mein chup rehti thi,
stage par bolte waqt bilkul alag hoti thi.
Strong.
Clear.
Fearless.
Virat use chupchaap sunta.
Kabhi kabhi use lagta
jaise Swati use bhi challenge kar rahi ho—
bina directly dekhe.
Aur yahin,
use ek baat samajh aayi—
Uski life mein pehli baar,
kisi ladki ne use impress karne ki koshish nahi ki thi.
Aur shayad…
yeh hi baat use sabse zyada impress kar rahi thi.
Competition ke din,
jab Swati stage par thi,
Virat audience mein baitha tha.
Uske liye jeetna zaroori tha—
lekin us pal,
woh sirf Swati ko dekh raha tha.
Uske words,
uska confidence,
aur woh chhoti si muskaan
jo sirf uske liye nahi thi—
par phir bhi dil tak pahunch gayi.
Virat ne dheere se socha,
Shayad main galat tha…
Strong hone ka matlab loud hona nahi hota.
Us shaam,
jab school ke corridor mein woh dono saamne aaye,
Virat ne pehli baar bina hesitation kaha,
"You were really good today."
Swati ne use dekha.
Seedha.
Shaant.
"Thanks."
Bas itna hi.
Par Virat ke liye,
yeh sirf ek "thanks" nahi tha.
Yeh shuruat thi—
respect ki,
samajhne ki,
aur shayad…
kuch aur bhi.
Us raat,
Virat ne apni diary nahi kholi—
use likhne ki aadat nahi thi.
Par agar likhta,
toh shayad yeh likhta:
"Kuch log humein badalne nahi kehte,
bas humein aaina dikha dete hain."
Aur Swati Sharma,
Virat Mittal ke liye
woh aaina ban chuki thi.