The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels against the tracks was almost hypnotic. Rohan sat by the window, watching the scenery shift as he traveled from Kolkata to Assam. It was a long journey, but he didn’t mind. He had his book, some snacks, and the comforting hum of the train to keep him company.
A few hours into the journey, the train slowed down and came to a stop at a dimly lit station. The signboard, barely visible in the flickering yellow light, read "Ghumnam Junction."
Rohan had never heard of this station before. He checked his phone to see their current location, but strangely, there was no network. Shrugging it off, he decided to step out and grab something to eat. The air outside was eerily still. A small vendor's stall stood at the corner, selling snacks and tea.
"Chai?" the vendor asked in a hoarse voice.
Rohan nodded, handing over some money. As he sipped the tea, he noticed something odd—no one else had gotten off the train. Usually, at such halts, passengers would step out to stretch their legs or buy food. But here, everyone remained seated inside, peering out of the windows with an unsettling stillness.
Even stranger, no one boarded the train either.
A shiver ran down Rohan’s spine. It felt as if he was the only one who could see this station. He quickly finished his tea, grabbed a pack of biscuits, and hurried back inside the train. As soon as he stepped in, the whistle blew, and the train started moving again.
He sank into his seat, his mind racing. Had he just imagined everything?
When he reached home in Gangtok, he told his friends about Ghumnam Junction. They laughed.
"There's no such station on that route, Rohan!"
"You must have been dreaming."
He felt unsettled. That night, he searched the internet for Ghumnam Junction. Nothing. Not a single mention of such a place. His unease deepened.
Four days later, he had to return to Kolkata. The journey felt ordinary, yet tension coiled in his chest as the train approached the spot where he remembered Ghumnam Junction. He kept looking out the window, waiting for the train to slow down.
But it never did.
The train passed smoothly through a stretch of dark wilderness—no station, no flickering lights, no vendor with hoarse whispers. Ghumnam Junction simply did not exist.
Cold fear gripped Rohan. Where had he been that night? If the station wasn’t real, then where had he stopped? Who had served him tea?
The thought haunted him for years. He never found an answer. But sometimes, in the dead of night, he would wake up with the taste of that tea still lingering on his tongue.
