AI Image: Gaon ke kone mein ek chhota sa purana ghar tha, jahan rehte the Daaji—safed baal, haath mein lakdi k

Prompt

Gaon ke kone mein ek chhota sa purana ghar tha, jahan rehte the Daaji—safed baal, haath mein lakdi ki chhadi, aur aankhon mein zindagi bhar ki kahaniyan। Daaji ke paas ek hi saathi tha—ek chhota sa bhura kutta, jiska naam tha Moti। Har subah, Daaji apni kursi par baithte, aur Moti unke pairon ke paas aa kar chupchaap baith jaata। “Tu hi toh hai mera asli dost,” Daaji muskura ke kehte। Gaon wale haste the— “Arre Daaji, kutte se bhi koi baat karta hai kya?” Daaji bas halki si hasi dete— “Tum log samjhoge nahi… yeh bolta nahi, par sab samajhta hai।” Ek din Daaji bahut beemar pad gaye। Ghar mein sannata chha gaya। Moti darwaze ke paas baith kar bas unhe dekhta raha… bina hile, bina soye। 3 din tak Moti ne kuch nahi khaya। Chauthi subah… Daaji ki kursi khaali thi। Aur Moti… us kursi ke paas chupchaap baitha tha, jaise ab bhi intezaar kar raha ho— ki Daaji aayenge, usse “mera dost” kahenge। Samay beet gaya। Naye log ghar mein aaye, par Moti wahan se nahi gaya। Roz shaam ko, woh usi kursi ke paas jaakar baith jaata… jaise usse yakeen ho— “Dosti kabhi khatam nahi hoti… bas log door chale jaate hain।”