Rishabh Mehta Part 1 – The Arrival The bus wound its way up the narrow mountain road, its engine straining against the climb. Aanya Kapoor pressed her forehead against the cold glass, watching the mist rise like smoke from the cedar forests below. It was late afternoon, but the hills were already wrapped in a twilight haze. The signboard that flashed past read Chamba – 18 km, its paint peeling, its iron frame leaning precariously as if even it wanted to escape the lonely curve of the road. She closed her notebook, the one already crowded with scribbled headlines and…
