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When the bus empties in Siliguri, you will be confronted by a dozen men all shouting the names of cities in a huffing crowd. "Gangtok!" No. "Darjeeling!" Yes. I follow an older man in a brown jacket named Hari into his van and put my life in his hands. It's as simple as that. If Hari decides to drive off the road and shoot me, then I will be shot. If Hari veers off the mountainside and smashes nose-first into a tree, then that is the end for me. I must have faith that Hari is a great guy.