#para player

Aslam, 23 saal ka Muslim biker aur college student, Kamini ke building me rent par rehta hai. Ek raat bike accident me dono hands fracture ho jaate hain. Hospital se discharge hone ke baad Kamini compassion ke under use apne flat me stay karne deti hai, taaki proper care mil sake.

Roz ke routine me:

— medicine dena

— khana khilana

— stitching aur bandage check karna

In sab ke beech dono ke beech ek silent emotional pull start ho jaata hai. Kamini apni feelings ko religion aur age difference ke wajah se repress karti hai. Aslam respectfully behave karta hai lekin andar se wo bhi confuse hai – gratitude ke saath attraction mix ho raha hai.

Raatein awkward ho jaati hain...

Shaadi se pehle tumhare papa ne tumhe ek flat gift kiya tha, jiske baare me tumne kabhi kisi ko nahi bataya, kuch personal reasons ki wajah se. Wahi flat saalon se khali pada tha, aur tum sochti ho ki ab use rent par chadha diya jaye, thodi side income bhi ho jayegi. Tabhi ek naye tenant—Aslam Khan—ka inquiry aata hai. Tum dono kabhi mile nahi, baat agent ke through hoti hai, isliye tumhe pata bhi nahi kaun hai. Aslam ek 32 saal ka professor hai jo Lucknow se abhi-abhi Delhi shift hua hai aur apna khud ka jagah dhoond raha hai. Phone pe discussion ho chuki hai, rent almost final ho chuka hai, but dono ek-dusre ke liye bilkul strangers.

Isi beech ek shaam tumhare husband ke dost ke ghar party hoti hai jahan tum casually, but effortlessly gorgeous lag rahi hoti ho. Aslam bhi apne doston ke through waha aaya hota hai. Jab tum enter karti ho, ek pal ke liye Aslam ka focus tum par atak jata hai—tumhari aankhon ka calm shine, tumhara soft smile, overall vibe… kuch alag hi impact chhod deti hai. Tum dono ek choti si polite introduction karte ho, ek neutral si smile exchange hoti hai, aur party chalti rehti hai. Tum nahi jaanti, woh bhi nahi jaanta, ki jis person se tum flat final karne wali ho… woh yahi saamne khada hua stranger hi hai.

Next day agent tum dono ko message karta hai ki owner-tenant meeting kal flat pe hogi. Tum flat pe pahunchti ho… Aslam bhi. Aur jaise hi tum dono saamne aate ho, dono ke chehre par wahi shock—yeh toh wahi party wala stranger?! Ek hi second me ek ajeeb sa connection, curiosity aur thoda sa tension hawa me feel hota hai.

Yehi se kahani shuru hoti hai—nanad ka secret behaviour, tumhara hidden flat, aur tum aur Aslam ke beech ek slow, magnetic pull jo tum dono samajh bhi nahi paate.

liiike oppppooosite Religion attrrraction...

Aisa kis kis ko feel hota he..

msg mmmmeee sanskari girls nssd ladies..

Ib me aao....mag.

Raat ka ek baja hai. Sheher ki sadkon par sirf barish ka shor hai aur hawa mein thand ka ek ajeeb sa current.

Bus stand ke ek kone mein **Ishita** khadi hai — geele kapde, aankhon mein aansu, aur dil mein darr.

Uski shaadi kal subah hone wali thi… zabardasti.

Ek aise ladke se jisse usne kabhi dekha bhi nahi tha.

Par usne decide kar liya tha — *“Main apni zindagi kisi ke pressure se nahi jeeyungi.”*

Ab woh bhaag chuki thi… bina plan ke, bina soch ke.

Bus station pe na bus thi, na koi aadmi — sirf ek purani si **black cab** khadi thi, jisme koi aadmi so raha tha.

Woh halke se knock karti hai,

“Bhaiya… excuse me… mujhe kahin jana hai.”

Driver aankh kholta hai — **Aslam.**

Thoda rough face, dard bhari aankhein.

Ek pal ke liye woh Ishita ko upar se neeche tak dekhta hai — thoda shock, thoda suspicion.

“Raat ke is waqt ladki akeli? Kya masla hai tumhara?”

Ishita halki awaaz mein bolti hai, “Main ghar se bhaag gayi hoon… shaadi se.”

Aslam ek deep sigh leta hai, phir kehta hai,

“Zindagi se bhaagna easy nahi hota, madam.

Par chalo, betho… raat lambi hai.”

Cab dheere se chalu hoti hai.

Sadkon par puddles chamak rahe hain, wiper rhythm mein chal raha hai.

Dono ke beech ek silence hai — uncomfortable, par magnetic.

Ishita khidki se baarish dekhti rehti hai,

aur Aslam rear mirror se uska chehra.

Dono kuch bolte nahi, par hawa mein ek ajeeb tension hai —

nafrat bhi nahi, par bharosa bhi nahi.

Thodi der baad Ishita bolti hai,

“Tum mujhe kahin safe jagah chhoda sakte ho?”

Aslam kehta hai, “Safe jagah sirf duaon mein hoti hai, duniya mein nahi.

Par chalo, meri jagah aa jao. Subah tak ruk jao, phir dekhte hain.”

Cab ek chhoti si gali mein rukti hai — ek simple sa ghar.

Aslam gate kholta hai, Ishita andar aati hai.

Barish ki thandi hawa aur us ghar ki chhup si khamoshi ek saath mil kar atmosphere ko aur heavy bana dete hain.

Aslam kettle par chai chadha deta hai, aur bolta hai —

“Tumhe darr nahi lagta kisi unknown aadmi ke saath aane mein?”

Ishita halki si smile karti hai,

“Darr to mujhe apnon se laga tha, par unhi se bhag kar aayi hoon.”

Aslam uske jawab par kuch seconds ke liye chup rehta hai —

phir dheere se bolta hai,

“Tumhare jaisi ladkiyaan hi sabse dangerous hoti hain — na masoom, na mazloom.”

Woh ek dusre ki aankhon mein kuch seconds ke liye dekhte rehte hain —

aur us pal, hawa mein kuch badal jaata hai.

Na woh driver lagta hai, na woh passenger.

Sirf do log — ek thake hue mard aur ek tooti hue ladki —

jo raat ke andhere mein ek doosre ki aankhon mein apna reflection dekh rahe hain.