Khaad

A taxi strike strands a diverse group of travelers at New Mal Junction. They come from different walks of life—a honeymoon couple, a family, a priest, an actress and her mentally challenged brother, and others—hoping for a way out. The shared predicament sets the stage for a tense, uneasy camaraderie.

The priest, Ardhendu Banerjee, manages to arrange a bus from his church to North Bengal, and the group agrees to go together. They cling to the plan as a potential lifeline, dreaming of safety beyond the foothills. The scene is marked by cautious optimism amid mounting fatigue.

The journey takes a brutal turn when the bus crashes into a cliff and plummets into an abyss. Some travelers survive physically injured but emotionally shaken, cut off from rescue and contact with the outside world. The wreck becomes the grim anchor for what follows.

With daylight waning and a 400–500 foot ascent looming, the survivors realize that climbing out will not be easy. They tend to wounds and fear what waits beyond the edge, knowing help may not arrive. The group feels increasingly cut off from any chance of quick rescue.

They decide to spend the night at the crash site and hope to find another route out at dawn. The forest around them presses in, amplifying every sound and heartbeat. A fragile calm settles as they prepare for an uncertain vigil.

The priest proposes a game to cast their secrets into the abyss as confessions and begin anew once daylight returns. The idea seems odd yet strangely hopeful, a ritual to unlock the pain they carry. Reluctant curiosity gives way to tense, communal participation.

As the game unfolds, participants reveal fears, regrets, hidden desires, and long-buried memories. Each confession punctuates the quiet with a new layer of vulnerability, changing how they see one another. The forest feels dense with unspoken truths.

The revelations intensify, testing loyalties and the boundaries of privacy. Old wounds reopen and relationships fray as the night seems to stretch on forever. The atmosphere shifts from fear to a charged, ceremonial mood.

By the early morning, the tension has reached a tipping point as secrets reshape the group’s dynamics and sense of self. Trust becomes fragile as lines between confession and manipulation blur. The night’s revelations leave everyone more exposed than before.

In a stunning revelation, it is revealed that all the tourists died in the initial accident and the game never happened. The narrative followed until now is exposed as an illusion, a memory of those who did not survive. The confession game is reframed as a haunting memory rather than reality.

The bodies lie dead on a truck, a silent testament to a catastrophe that ended before the game began. The film’s perspective shifts to reinterpret the night in light of these final truths. The tonal shift invites contemplation of fate and perception.

Yet the final image shows the remaining figures walking together through the forested abyss toward a path of peace as the credits roll. The ending lingers as a meditation on choice, illusion, and the thin boundary between reality and memory. It invites viewers to reflect on what truly ends and what persists beyond tragedy.