It had been a long and cold night in Leh, the winds gushing through anything that came in the way. I had been driving for some 5 hours straight making my way from Nubrah valley to leh in search of something elusive, something that haunts every man but few dare to chase—the truth of oneself.". The journey of self discovery started when I quit my job as a forensic anthropologist working as a consultant for a private firm. That’s what I did, roamed around the undiscovered corners of the world exploring and digging out stories to give content to media houses , publishing and press organizations journals, newspapers. I had seen lot in the 7 years of my professional endeavors. Some sights of extreme beauty some sights of unfathomable horror. For the people who hired me, my experiences were just a means to revenue but for me it meant something much bigger, something further beyond. The question was what? I had to know what was the purpose of my exposure. I had to know before it was too late. That led me to the daunting conditions of Leh, leaving behind the cradle of God , the summer capital of the British, Shimla. There was light snowfall that glimmered in the pale moonlight, the silence had been long and suspenseful. I had been looking out for a place with some hint of civilization where I could make have my temporary stay. There was a particular guest house that used to be a famous camping resort for tourists. It had been a couple years since the place supposedly shut down due to an accident. A teenage girl found murdered and mutilated in what was reported as an animal attack. With the girl being the daughter of a renowned MLA (Member of the Legislative Assembly ) of the area was bad PR for the place. There had been rumors that the place had resumed operations but that news hardly attracted any excitement. Who could forget the horrid images, the bad karma that the incident invited to the place for 4 long months and the few desperate vagabonds who claimed to have seen something more sinister and unfathomable than a mere “ animal attack”.

  My GPS showed a notification of the destination arriving at the next right turn 500m straight. That was where I saw a narrow tiled pavement leading to a backlit rectangular board that said “

  Anant Vraj." The name lingered in my mind as I pulled into the desolate courtyard. It was once a thriving retreat for wanderers and seekers of solitude, nestled high in the unforgiving terrain of Leh. Now, it stood forgotten, buried under layers of tragedy and whispered fears.

  They said the name meant "The Endless Journey", a place where travelers came and left, but their souls remained. The locals avoided speaking of it, brushing away questions with a hurried shake of their heads. Some claimed the winds around Anant Vraj carried voices—half-heard whispers in the dead of night. Others swore that those who stayed too long felt something watching them from the shadows, something patient… and ancient.

  As my car moved towards the parking pavement, I saw a frail looking gentleman wearing a navy blue all weather jacket that had a logo of what seemed to be a security agency. A security guard. He looked at me as I lowered the window, his eyes glimmering of the kind of hope and happiness that seemed to be released from long impalement. Room? Haan, they’ve started taking guests again, the first words he uttered, a raspy voice, he gave a playful smirk and said Don’t worry, the rooms are clean… mostly. And the winds? They whisper, but they don’t bite.

  "I hope I can check in at this hour," I said politely, a hint of guilt creeping into my voice for disturbing the delicate hush that enveloped the place.

  "It would be our utmost pleasure," came a soft, composed voice from behind the tall planters near the fountain.

  A woman emerged, her burgundy overcoat swaying slightly with the night breeze. Her green eyes held a strange duality—calm yet guarded—as they flickered between me and my mud-streaked car, which had seen one too many unwashed miles.

  "We can have your car washed in the morning if you’d like," she offered, her tone effortless yet perceptive. "Until then, why don’t you come inside? We’ll find you a room for your stay."

  She led me inside towards the reception desk the interiors were a pale yellow ochre more enhanced with the bright lights of the huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was probably the biggest chandelier I had ever seen in my life. As I was staring at it admiring its grandiose, I heard a voice from behind the desk “ that has been around decades. The pride of the Dhar family and Anant Vraj.” Wait, the name Dhar sounded familiar. “what is your name” I asked with a hasty curiosity. “ and here I thought you wouldn’t care to ask” the lady said with a playful yet mature smile. “ Anashya Dhar” she replied. Anashya, I hadn’t heard of that name before but the surname Dhar belonged to one of the largest business families in Leh and Ladakh region. They had been the descendants of the Dhars in Maharaja Pratap Singh’s royal court. Some of them had also worked under the aegis of Maharaj Ranjit Singh during his conquest of Kashmir from the hands of the Afghans. She was the descendant of the royalty. And she appeared so. The striking features of her face, accentuated by a light, porcelain-like complexion, held an ethereal allure. Her high cheekbones framed deep, enigmatic eyes that seemed to hold secrets untold, while her full lips, neither too soft nor too firm, carried an effortless elegance. There was a quiet power in the way she carried herself—graceful yet unwavering, a presence that demanded attention without a single word. Every movement, though subtle, had a deliberate, almost hypnotic quality, as if she controlled the very air around her. The tone of her voice, smooth yet commanding, held a rare balance of warmth and authority, making it impossible to ignore. She could have easily been a model, not just for the symmetry of her features but for the way she exuded an effortless magnetism—one that didn’t seek admiration but simply owned it.

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  “We have twelve standard rooms, four deluxe rooms, and one premium suite,” she began, her voice smooth yet deliberate. “The standard rooms are available in single and double suites. The deluxe rooms offer a much better view, are more spacious, and include added amenities—a fully stocked fridge, a Dolby Audio music system, an extended OTT package, and private balconies equipped with stargazing telescopes.”

  She paused briefly, her green eyes locking onto mine with an unsettling depth before continuing, “And in the premium room, we provide…”

  I wasn’t really listening. I found myself caught in those deep green eyes, a gaze that felt like it saw past the surface, past the polite small talk, straight into something unspoken.

  “I’ll take the quietest one,” I said.

  Anashya didn’t blink. A knowing look crossed her face, as if she had expected this response.

  “I get you,” her eyes seemed to say.

  Turning slightly, she called out, “Narodji, kindly lead our guest to Room AV666.”

  From a doorway behind the reception desk, an older butler emerged. His movements were precise, practiced. Without a word, he gestured for me to follow.

  “I shall book this stay under the name…?”

  “Divyansh Dutt,” I answered.

  Anashya typed the name into the system, then handed me the key—a vintage brass key, heavier than expected, its number engraved in a strangely elaborate font.

  “Are you sure you don’t need any further details? My contact information or anything of the sort?” I asked, slightly puzzled.

  “That is only required by those who doubt their guest’s ability to honor a contract.” Her tone was amused, yet unwavering. “What kind of hosts would we be if we did not believe in the morality of our guests?”

  “Most hotels ask for it to send discount offers, deals—anything relevant like that.”

  Anashya smiled—a knowing, almost cryptic smile It wasn’t forced hospitality. It was as if she had already seen the course of my stay before I had even set foot here.”

  “I think,” she said softly, “you will find whatever we have to offer… if fate permits it.”

  A rather ludicrous way to run a business I thought. But for some reason Anashya looked sure as if the existing system’s norms didn’t matter to her.

  As Narodji led me through the grand lobby and up the winding staircase, I felt a strange sense of belonging—an unsettling attraction to every detail of Anant Vraj. The architecture, the colors, even the way the dim lights cast shadows across the walls… everything felt eerily familiar, as if the place had been designed with me in mind.

  When I entered my room, a silence unlike any I had ever known enveloped me. It wasn’t just peaceful—it was absolute. No distant hum of electricity, no echo of the wind outside, nothing. Just a deep, untouched quiet that felt both comforting and… final.

  “Breakfast at 9, sir. We can have it brought up here if you prefer,” Narodji said, his voice cutting through the silence like a ripple on still water. I nodded absentmindedly, and as the door shut behind him, I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

  Little did I know, I wasn’t just stepping into a guesthouse—I was stepping into something that would change me forever.