The train jerked to a halt at a nameless station nestled between dense sal groves and silent hills. Ananya Sinha stepped down cautiously, dragging her suitcase over the uneven platform. The dusty signboard above her head read, barely legibly: Kandara Halt. The air smelled of wet earth, turmeric, and smoke — familiar yet strange. She glanced at her phone. No signal. Typical. A rusted jeep waited near the exit, just as the letter from Kandara Panchayat Samiti had described. Painted in faded green, it bore the name: “Kandara Gramin Vikas Kendra.” The driver, a leathery man with sunken eyes and…