Room allocations began right away. Everyone buzzed with excitement as names were called in pairs. Shankar was assigned a room with Varun, his closest friend since class 6. The two shared a quick fist bump — they'd been dreaming of a trip like this for years, and now they finally got to explore it together.
Once the bags were dropped off, the gang regrouped for dinner — and of course, the teasing began.
As they sat around the table, chatting and cracking jokes, someone smirked and said,
"So, Shankar... how's your spiritual awakening going?"
Laughter followed.
"Bet you've already planned your wedding playlist with Savitri!"
Shankar rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"You guys seriously need new material."
More laughter. The teasing was annoying, but in that friendly, embarrassing way that made the trip feel real.
In the middle of the chaos, a teacher stepped up with an announcement:
"Alright, attention! Tomorrow morning's itinerary — we're heading to the Rajgir Wildlife Sanctuary and the Son Bhandar Caves. Be ready by 7 AM sharp."
The mood shifted instantly. People started buzzing with excitement — the safari had everyone hyped. Cameras, binoculars, animal-spotting hopes… it was all kicking in.
But Shankar? He was excited for that too — he loved nature, loved clicking pictures. But something about Swarn Bhandar caught his attention. Maybe it was just the chance to explore a piece of history up close. Unlike many of his classmates, who only cared about selfies and tigers, he was genuinely curious about both sides of the trip.
It wasn't that anything felt strange yet — it was just… something about this trip already felt different.
Early next morning, the hotel buzzed with life.
The air was still crisp, the sun barely up, and the sound of alarms and chatter filled the hallways. Bags zipped, shoes thumped on tiled floors, and a dozen sleepy-yet-hyped teens scrambled to make it downstairs by 7 AM.
In Room 203, Shankar stretched, blinking off the sleep.
"Dude, wake up," Varun mumbled from under a blanket, "if we're late, they'll make us sit next to teachers."
That was all the motivation Shankar needed.
"Let's go, Professor Sharma, you snore like a tractor," he grinned, throwing a towel at him.
After a quick freshen-up and stuffing their day-packs with essentials — binoculars, snacks, water, and in Shankar's case, his camera — they headed down.
The lobby looked like a school corridor during recess. Groups were forming, some kids already snapping selfies in safari hats they bought from roadside stalls the previous day. A few were half-asleep, clutching coffee like lifelines. Teachers did headcounts, shouting names over the noise.
Shankar's eyes searched the crowd until they landed on her — Savitri, standing a little apart from the chaos, flipping through a folded page of printed notes. She looked up for a second and noticed him, giving a small, polite smile before looking away.
Varun nudged him with a smirk.
"You better not be planning a historical debate on the bus today."
"Shut up," Shankar mumbled, slightly flustered.
Just then, the trip in-charge clapped his hands.
"Alright! First stop — Rajgir Wildlife Sanctuary! Everyone on the bus in ten!"
The group poured out into the hotel driveway, where three buses were parked. Shankar instinctively hung back a bit — not out of hesitation, just soaking it all in. The fresh air, the rising sun, the sense of this is real finally kicking in.
As he boarded the bus, a thought passed his mind —
"This isn't just a school trip… something about this feels bigger."
And deep down, he had no idea how right he was.
The morning mist hadn't fully lifted as they walked into the sanctuary, leaves still dripping from the early drizzle. The forest was alive — birdsong echoed from branch to branch, monkeys leapt across treetops, and somewhere far off, a peacock screamed like it had just seen something it shouldn't have.
The group buzzed with excitement. Phones were out, teachers were shouting half-hearted warnings, and Shankar stuck close to Varun, both pretending to know the names of random trees.
"That's... definitely a banyan," Varun said, pointing at a neem tree.
"And I'm the king of Rajgir," Shankar grinned, adjusting his camera focus.
Just ahead, Savitri walked alone — hands behind her back, lost in her thoughts again. Shankar picked up pace, nudging Varun with a smirk. "Cover me," he whispered, slipping away like a spy toward her.
"Hey," he said, a little breathless. "You look like you're decoding the forest or something."
She looked over, calm as ever. "Maybe I am. Maybe the trees talk if you listen close enough."
Shankar raised an eyebrow, half-joking. "And? What did that one say?"
"It said… You're not supposed to be here."
She smirked. "Kidding. Probably."
Shankar laughed, but somewhere inside, something twitched.
As they walked, the trail narrowed. The laughter of the group grew distant. Birds went quieter. A patch of clearing opened up on their left — wild grass, rising and swaying gently in the breeze.
Then Shankar stopped.
Far, far off… beyond the tree line… something moved.
He squinted.
There it was again.
A pale shape — white, slow, massive. Walking through the tall grass. Not quite a tiger… not quite anything. Its body rippled like it carried history in its bones.
And on its side… not stripes, but something else.
Symbols. Black ones. Painted or born — he couldn't tell.
"Did you see—" he started.
But Savitri had already walked ahead. The shape was gone. The clearing was still.
Shankar blinked, unsure if he had imagined it.
He caught up.
"You alright?" she asked, sensing the shift in his face.
"Yeah," he lied. "Just… thought I saw something. Probably just my brain seeing patterns again."
"Well, it's a forest," she said. "This place is older than our textbooks. Who knows what lives in it."
He looked back once more — but the grass swayed innocently, birds chirped again, and whatever ancient thing had passed… left no trace behind.
The trail rejoined the main group. Teachers were gathering students for a selfie under a wooden arch that read "RAJGIR WILDLIFE SANCTUARY."
Shankar smiled and posed.
But inside… the image of that white silhouette wouldn't leave him.
Not yet.
As the bus left the wildlife sanctuary behind, bouncing along the dusty road, everyone slowly started settling into their seats again—some chatting, some half-asleep, some scrolling through photos.
Shankar climbed in a little late, his camera still hanging around his neck. He looked around, and without thinking too much, walked toward the same seat from earlier.
Just as he was about to sit, he noticed Savitri already there, gently brushing leaves off her dress. She looked up, made eye contact for half a second, and gave a slight nod.
He smiled back—nothing dramatic, just easy.
This time, neither of them said "Can I sit?" or "Sure." It just happened.
The bus started rolling again.
Shankar was checking his photos, flipping through shots of deer, trees, and that one vulture he spotted earlier. Savitri glanced sideways and said, "You've got a good eye. That one looks like a poster."
"Thanks," he said, a bit shy. "I try. I like freezing moments before they vanish."
Savitri smiled faintly and pulled out her phone. "Swarn Bhandar is next, right?"
"Yeah," Shankar replied. "You excited?"
She nodded. "A lot. I love places that are full of stories."
Shankar smiled and sat in silence, eyes tracing the glow of memories frozen in pixels.
Photos of wildlife, trees, laughter… of moments he didn't think he'd cherish—yet now, couldn't look away from.
Beside him, Savitri spoke—softly, like prayer wrapped in curiosity.
She pointed out the sacred, he remembered the strange.
Their thoughts danced quietly, as if the bus itself carried their words like whispers through time.
They were opposites.
A boy who questioned gods...
And a girl who found answers in them.
Yet in that fleeting evening light,
they felt less like contradictions—
and more like echoes of something ancient.
Two truths.
Two ways of seeing the same sky.
Two halves of a story written long before either knew the other's name.
Like sun and moon sharing the same dusk,
they didn't try to make sense of it.
They just… were.
They both looked out the window for a while, as the green faded into rocky brown, and Rajgir's ancient hills rose in the distance.
The midday sun spilled over the golden sandstone, casting sharp shadows across the ancient chamber. Swarn Bhandar—"The Golden Treasury"—didn't shine, but it remembered how to.