The train rattled northward, cutting through the stretches of farmland, dry riverbeds, and dust-swept towns and villages.
Kunal leaned back against his seat, chin tucked to his chest, half-lost in thought. Across from him, Vaibhav sprawled with legs stretched out, a bag of snacks balanced on his stomach.
"Bro," Vaibhav muttered, "remember Rajasthan? 2020? Just before the world halted because of the pandemic?"
Kunal huffed, eyes flicking open.
"Yeah. Udaipur, Jodhpur, Jaisalmer. You, me, Shivam, Shubham. Our first trip for the whole group together. We had to kidnap Shubham to come along with us, bro he has always been such a crybaby."
Vaibhav shot him a wicked grin.
"And what about you, my sleepwalking drunk menace, blessed me with the moment of a lifetime — peeing on me at 3am in the Jodhpur homestay."
Kunal groaned, dragging a hand over his face.
"Bro! I was half-asleep and drunk! You left your mattress in the hallway, idiot! You deserved that. Everyone should have peed on you for your idiotic antic."
Vaibhav chucked a peanut at his head.
"Yeah yeah, and that New Year's Eve in the Thar — freezing our asses off in the dunes, huddled around that campfire, swearing we'd never camp again with our mouths filled with sand."
A grin tugged at Kunal's mouth.
"Yeah. Coldest night of my life. But… hell, that was good. I slept sandwiched between four blankets while looking from where the fuck this cold air is coming from."
For a moment, the train rolled in a quiet rhythm, the old warmth of friendship filling the gaps between words.
---
By late evening, they reached Taxila town which once was an epicenter of knowledge for the whole world but now just a small town where random tourists come occasionally to see those ruins and nothing else.
The air here was thinner, tinged with old stone and faraway incense. Streets twisted through half-forgotten neighborhoods, cracked walls brushing against the past.
Vaibhav slipped into his traveler mode effortlessly — eyes scanning corners, skipping busy roads, flashing casual smiles at locals when needed, ignoring big hotels at which Kunal gave him a questioning look.
"Trust me, bro," he grinned over his shoulder.
"Big names, big trouble. We go small and quite and avoid all troubles."
Within the hour, they tucked themselves into a discreet little lodge — peeling paint, old fans, one cracked window. No frills. But clean, cheap, and, most important, invisible.
"See?" Vaibhav flopped onto the bed with a satisfied sigh.
"Low profile, no curious owners, no chatter, just throw money and no-one minds anything about you or your identity or your motivation. I Nailed it."
Kunal gave a faint nod, but his mind was elsewhere — already at the window, looking at the visible ruins, as he felt a gentle tug in his mind .
---
The ruins lay on West, faintly glowing under scattered street lights — broken columns, scattered stones, bones of an ancient lost world.
But Kunal's pull wasn't West.
It was South-West.
Faint. Sharp. Like fingers brushing his skull, whispering across his skin. A tension just at the edge of his thoughts, impossible to ignore.
His palm rested lightly against the glass, cool against the pane.
"Yo," Vaibhav's voice floated from the pillow.
"You good, man?"
"Yeah," Kunal murmured.
"Just… thinking."
Vaibhav yawned, half-buried in blankets.
"Big day tomorrow, bro. Get some sleep and don't pee on me. Please! I don't want showers in the night. LoL!"
Kunal looked at him annoyingly, mouthing a Hindi curse. Which makes Vaibhav laugh as he switches off the side lamp, while scratching his ass.
Kunal looked at his antics and thought if he should have hit the road alone, it would have been better if he didn't tag along with this buffon.
However Kunal pushed these thoughts away from his mind while still looking outside the window.
He didn't crash immediately.
Not for hours.
He stayed at the window, eyes on the dark swallowing Taxila, ears tuned to the night — a bark down the lane, the cough of an old truck, a far-off drunkards shouting cutting the silence.
His mind buzzed.
Not fear.
Not hope.
Curiosity, with a veiled excitement in it.
---
Later, in the dim room, Kunal crouched by his bag, fingers moving automatically — notebook, phone, charger, old journal, knife, water. His hand paused on the Hanuman Chalisa, thumb brushing the cover before tucking it deep into a side pocket.
He moved soft, light, like slipping into old skin.
Because tomorrow — tomorrow wasn't sightseeing.
Tomorrow, the real search will begin for the scattered memories.
---
By the time Kunal eased onto the bed, faint streaks of silver had already cracked the sky.
The old ruins waited for his arrival, waiting to tell him his own story, waiting to embrace their wronged prince once more.
And for the first time in a long time, Kunal welcomed the unknown.
To be continued…