🏔️ The Silent Test
The loudspeaker at New Jalpaiguri station kept repeating train numbers, but Rahul barely heard anything. The sheer excitement of finally stepping into Sikkim — the boys' first long trip together — had already taken over his mind. Outside the station, small tea stalls released curls of steam, yellow taxis honked impatiently, and a cool breeze carried the subtle, earthy smell of fresh mountain soil, despite the city still being miles away from the real highlands.
"Gangtok?" Deep asked every driver he saw, his tone full of over-eager anticipation, as if searching for a hidden treasure map instead of a simple taxi.
"Bro, calm down," Raghav muttered, dragging his backpack. "They aren't going to vanish."
Satyam, still half-sleepy from the overnight train journey, adjusted his duffel bag. "Just find one car that doesn't smell of petrol and diapers, bas."
After a few minutes of searching, they found a sturdy-looking Mahindra Bolero with a cracked but clean windshield. The driver was a middle-aged man; deep lines were etched across his forehead, he wore a faded jacket, and his eyes held a distant look, like they had seen many quiet, harsh winters.
"Gangtok?" Deep repeated, already gearing up to negotiate the fare.
The driver nodded slowly. "Five-hour journey. Roads are clear today."
"Five hours?!" Deep gasped dramatically, throwing his head back. "Bhai, we will miss the sunset."
"You'll see enough mountains," the driver replied calmly, retrieving their bags and placing them securely on the roof carrier. "Whether you want to or not."
Rahul exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Raghav. There was something in the driver's tone—not exactly unsettling, but definitely unusual, a kind of weary finality.
Once they settled inside, the car rolled out of Siliguri's busy lanes and onto NH10. The city noise faded rapidly behind them, replaced by the sounds of rushing wind, the occasional distant horn, and the rhythmic hum of the tires on the open highway.
"Finally," Rahul sighed, opening his window a little wider. "Freedom."
The road stretched ahead like a ribbon weaving through sprawling tea gardens and patchy forest land. The mountains began to appear faintly in the distance, blue-grey layers rising one behind another, promising adventure.
Deep pulled out the Bluetooth speaker from his bag. "Permission to start the playlist?"
"No!" everyone shouted at once, cutting him off.
"Arre yaar!" Deep protested. "I have updated it. No Honey Singh, promise!"
"Last time you said that, and we heard 'Brown Rang' fifty times," Satyam cut in instantly, a ghost of a smile on his face.
Rahul laughed, shaking his head. "Give him one chance."
The playlist began with slow, surprisingly peaceful indie songs. The boys leaned back, relaxing into the comfortable silence broken only by the music, watching Siliguri fade away like a half-remembered dream.
An hour passed smoothly until the scenery changed. The flat roads gave way to gentle inclines, and the forests grew denser. The sunlight began to dim behind tall, shadowy trees that stood like silent, imposing guardians of the route.
That's when Raghav noticed it — a strange, absolute stillness in the air.
He sat up straighter, peering out of the window. The constant rush of wind that had been brushing his face was now sluggish, almost absent. Even the leaves on the trees barely moved.
Rahul nudged him gently. "You okay?"
"Hmm… yeah."
But he wasn't sure.
For a brief, unsettling moment, he thought he heard something — a faint sound carried by the breeze. Not quite a clear voice, not quite the wind buffeting the car.
A whisper.
Soft, unclear.
Almost like someone trying to say his name.
Raghav…
He shook his head quickly. Must be the wind hitting the window oddly, creating a weird acoustic effect.
"Guys," the driver said suddenly, breaking the silence with a deep voice, "this is where the plains end."
"What does that mean?" Satyam asked, leaning forward slightly.
The driver gave a brief, half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "From here on, you're entering real mountains. They see you. Understand you. Test you."
Deep gulped audibly. "Bhai, please don't talk like that when the road already looks like a long, winding snake."
Rahul smirked, trying to keep the mood light. "What tests? We aren't here for a university viva."
But the driver didn't elaborate. He simply kept driving, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
A sharp, blind turn arrived, and the car slowed significantly. The road narrowed drastically, flanked by unforgiving cliffs on one side and a dense, dark forest on the other. A light, misty fog began to drift across the path, swirling like smoke.
"Wow," Rahul whispered, genuinely captivated, sticking his head out a little. "It's beautiful."
It truly was — trees covered in thick, vibrant moss, unfamiliar birds calling from unseen branches, the sharp, clean smell of wet earth. A soft, pervasive chill hung in the air.
But Raghav couldn't shake the growing uneasy feeling.
The whisper came again — this time, slightly clearer, more distinct.
A faint voice carried right by the wind.
Don't… come…
He turned his head sharply, scanning the edge of the forest. Nothing. Just a slight sway of distant branches.
He leaned forward across the middle seat.
"Sir, did you hear anything?" he asked the driver, his voice low.
The man shook his head slowly. "What kind of thing?"
"Like… someone speaking."
"Lots of sounds in the mountains," the driver replied, keeping his voice even. "Some real, some not. Ears get confused. But don't give attention. Mountains don't like listeners."
The last line sent a mild, prickly shiver through the boys, though Deep let out a loud, slightly forced laugh to hide his discomfort.
Half an hour later, a curve appeared where the road widened slightly. The driver slowed suddenly, his brake lights flashing.
Standing right in the middle of the narrow road was a lone Buddhist monk.
His maroon robes fluttered slightly in the barely-there wind. His eyes were half-closed, his face serene yet profoundly distant, like someone entirely lost in deep prayer or meditation.
The boys sat up instantly, alert.
"What the— why is he standing there?" Deep whispered, confused.
The driver honked softly, a quick, polite beep.
The monk did not move an inch.
The car rolled forward cautiously, stopping just a few feet away. The monk then slowly stepped toward the driver's window, his expression unreadable, frozen in place.
He leaned slightly, his voice soft but strangely resonant, cutting through the car's silence.
"Do not take the fourth path."
An absolute, profound silence fell inside the car. No one dared to breathe.
"What fourth path?" Satyam asked eventually, his confusion overriding his fear.
But instead of answering, the monk simply stepped back, away from the car… and without another word, turned and walked deliberately into the dense forest. Within seconds, he had vanished among the trees — as if he had literally dissolved into the foliage.
Deep blew out a shaky breath. "Yeh kya tha?! Some local prank?"
The driver's hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning pale white against the dark plastic.
"That monk… isn't normal," he whispered, barely audible.
Rahul's voice dropped, serious now. "Meaning?"
"Monks don't stand on highways unless something is genuinely wrong," the driver said quietly, his gaze fixed on the spot where the monk had disappeared. "Maybe a road is blocked ahead… or maybe something worse."
"Worse like?" Deep asked, instantly regretting the question.
The driver hesitated. "There are places the locals avoid. Certain routes. Certain corners where… things are not peaceful."
Raghav swallowed hard. The memory of the whisper suddenly felt heavy, charged with meaning.
But the driver ended the conversation there, shifting the gear.
The car continued its upward ascent.
The boys remained unusually quiet for the next stretch, each lost in their own thoughts, projecting their growing unease onto the shadowy landscape. Only the constant, low sound of rubber rolling on the asphalt filled the car.
Eventually, Deep broke the tense silence.
"Bhai, what is this 'fourth path'?"
"Maybe he meant a four-lane road?" Satyam guessed, trying to rationalize it.
Rahul shrugged, peering around a turn. "But there aren't four lanes here, just a two-way mountain road."
Raghav, however, kept looking intently out — scanning every corner, every shadow, every curve of the hillside.
He didn't know why, but he felt a cold certainty that something was wrong.
Something unseen was watching them.
After another ten minutes, the whisper returned.
This time, it was sharper, like a warning cry.
Raghav… stop…
He jerked upright, his heart pounding.
"Guys, did you hear that?" he asked loudly, urgency in his voice.
"Hear what?" Deep frowned, turning down the music.
"A voice."
"Bro, the only voice here is the driver asking God to save him from our group," Deep joked weakly.
But Rahul wasn't laughing this time. He looked at Raghav, his expression entirely serious.
"Is it coming from inside your head or outside?" he asked.
"Outside," Raghav said firmly, pointing a shaking finger toward the window. "From the trees."
The driver's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, looking at Raghav for a second longer than was necessary or comfortable.
"Sir… anything dangerous ahead?" Rahul finally asked, his voice low and respectful.
The driver sighed, a long, weary sound.
"Not dangerous… just confusing. The mountain sometimes tricks travelers. Shows extra roads. Hidden turns. Things that don't exist on maps."
Deep blinked, trying to process it. "Like illusions?"
"Like warnings," the driver replied simply.
Raghav shivered, the coldness of the whisper seeping into him.
The car moved steadily onward. The road grew narrower again, winding tightly along the steep hillside. Far below, the Teesta River glimmered like a thin, silver ribbon.
Rahul tried one last time to lighten the oppressive mood. "Okay, new rule. No talking about ghosts, mountains, or monks."
"And no whispers," Deep added quickly, looking nervously at Raghav.
But the atmosphere refused to lighten.
Even Satyam, normally the most carefree of the group, said nothing. He kept looking at the dense forest, rubbing his palms restlessly against his worn jeans.
Around 2 p.m., the sun had shifted to the west. The light filtered through the tall trees in long, thin, dramatic rays. The air turned noticeably cooler.
They were now deep in the mountain route, midway between Siliguri and Gangtok. No big towns, no markets — just nature surrounding them like an impenetrable, silent fortress.
Suddenly, the car slowed, the brakes squeaking loudly.
"Why did we stop?" Rahul asked, already leaning forward.
Ahead of them, the highway forked… into four separate paths.
Four.
Exactly four.
Each path was narrow, each cutting through the thick forest in a different direction.
But the map on the driver's phone, now held up for all to see, displayed only three roads branching off.
The driver stared ahead, his face stunned, speechless.
"This… shouldn't be here," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Deep leaned far out of the window, squinting at the screen and the reality before them. "Bhai, don't joke. Google Maps nazar aa raha hai— there are three roads, not four!"
"But look," Rahul said quietly, pointing through the windshield. "There are four."
The fourth path was the narrowest, almost a dirt road, immediately shrouded by the darkest trees. Shadows pooled at its entrance like spilled ink, an absolute void.
Raghav felt his heartbeat slow, a cold dread washing over him.
The whisper came again.
Clear. Cold. Absolute.
Don't take it…
He turned entirely pale, his eyes wide.
"Sir," Raghav said softly, desperately, "choose any of the three. But not the fourth."
The driver nodded instantly, his face ashen. "We won't go near it. Not even close."
But Deep, despite his earlier fear, wasn't fully convinced. "Guys, this could be a new, unmapped shortcut or a detour! Why are we getting scared by a simple path?"
Satyam hit his arm, a sharp, nervous strike. "Were you not in the car when the monk literally warned us?"
Deep rubbed his shoulder, frowning. "Okay, fine, but still…"
Rahul exhaled slowly. "Let's not experiment, Deep."
The driver slowly turned the steering wheel toward the leftmost road — the one that perfectly matched the map on his phone.
But the car refused to move.
It jerked violently once.
It stuttered.
The engine coughed violently, like a choking animal trying to breathe.
And died.
Dead silence instantly filled the vehicle, deafening and complete.
The driver tried the ignition again, twisting the key fiercely.
Nothing.
Raghav's breath hitched in his throat.
Outside, the forest stood unnaturally still.
No wind stirred the leaves.
No bird chirped from the branches.
No movement at all.
Just a silent ocean of unmoving trees watching them.
And the fourth path, waiting patiently, like an open, consuming mouth.
The driver's voice came out shaky, barely a breath.
"We… aren't even close to Gangtok yet. But something here… is wrong."
Rahul swallowed, his throat dry.
"Guys," he whispered into the profound silence, "whatever happens… no one steps outside."
The boys nodded instantly, fear slowly and completely tightening around their throats.