• Comedy - English

    The Divorce Planner

    Suparna Verma 1 Maya Iyer adjusted the collar of her navy-blue jumpsuit and glanced once more at the ornate wall clock above her desk. 11:27 a.m. The Deshmukh settlement was scheduled for noon, but she knew they’d be late. High-profile clients always were—especially when their breakup had been trending on social media for a week. She sipped her filter coffee from the oversized wine glass she insisted on using—her tiny rebellion against conventional labels. Her office, nestled in a sleek corner of Banjara Hills, didn’t scream “divorce.” It whispered it—soft couches, muted pastels, and an aroma diffuser that smelled like…

  • Comedy - English

    Bachelor Biryani Bhavan

    Siddharth Menon 1 It was a Tuesday night in T. Nagar, but the heat clung to the crumbling walls of Flat 104 like a desperate tenant refusing eviction. The creaky ceiling fan spun half-heartedly, threatening to fall with every rotation, while four men lay in various stages of exhaustion and hopelessness across mismatched plastic chairs and a cushionless diwan. Arjun, or AJ as he insisted on being called, stared at the ceiling with the focus of a man calculating the philosophical purpose of unpaid rent. “Four days left before the landlord removes us like expired chutney,” he muttered. Karthik, perched…

  • Comedy - English

    Fake Date, Real Disaster

    Aarushi Sen Rivalry on Maple Street There were only two things Maya Verma loved more than cinnamon rolls: winning and watching Theo Fernandes lose. Which is why Monday morning began exactly the way she liked it—with Theo storming out of his café across the street, scowling at a batch of sunken muffins while Maya casually sipped her soy cappuccino on the patio of Sugar & Sage, her quaint vegan café with mismatched chairs and hanging ferns. “Morning, Theo,” she called sweetly, stirring her coffee like it held all her smugness. Theo glared at her. “Your oven’s probably powered by smugness.”…

  • Comedy - English

    The Great Delhi Samosa Caper

    Neelesh Rao 1 Pooja Deshmukh stepped off the rickety auto-rickshaw and looked around the bustling streets of Old Delhi. The air was thick with the aroma of spices, fried food, and the faintest hint of incense. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation, but she pushed the hunger aside—today was about much more than food. She was here to review Baba’s Samosa Stall, a legendary street food joint that had been making waves in the culinary world. As a food critic for a top Mumbai magazine, Pooja had traveled the length and breadth of India tasting everything from Michelin-starred meals to street…

  • Comedy - English

    The Quirky Startup

    Arjun Sharma Bangalore, the city where dreams are made—especially those involving startups and street food. For Ravi, Aarti, and Sandeep, it was a melting pot of both. The trio, childhood friends since their school days, had always been obsessed with one thing—food. But not just any food. They were street food enthusiasts. Their go-to hangouts included bustling streets filled with the sizzling sound of dosas, the smoky aroma of tandoori, and, of course, the crunch of samosas. Ravi, the tech geek of the group, was the one who came up with the idea. “Guys, what if we created an app…

  • Comedy - English

    Curry Leaves and Chaos: The PG Chronicles

    Ritika Rao 1 The building looked innocent enough from the outside—three floors of faded pink walls, a rusty blue gate, and a peeling nameplate that read Leelamma PG for Gents & Others. Rohan Nambiar stood at the gate with his duffel bag in one hand and a sinking feeling in his stomach. After a brutal breakup, a client ghosting him on payments, and being evicted from a decent flat due to an “accidental” toaster fire, this paying guest accommodation in the middle of Koramangala was all he could afford. He had found it through a very enthusiastic post on a…

  • Comedy - English

    Meter Down, Morale Down

    Rishi Mukherjee Part 1: The Booking Blunder Sayan Roy was many things—a decent copywriter, a loyal consumer of roadside egg rolls, and a devoted user of cab apps. What he was not, however, was punctual. This particular Tuesday morning in Kolkata was no different. The clock on his wall blinked a smug 8:42 AM as he fumbled with his half-burnt toast, a tangled earphone, and a sock that had somehow disappeared from the pair. He had precisely eighteen minutes to get from his modest flat in Behala to his office in Salt Lake Sector V—a journey that even astronauts would…

  • Comedy - English

    The In-Laws of Instagram

    Meher Ahuja   Filter Wala Drama When Tanya clicked “Post” on her innocuous Sunday breakfast photo—croissants, coffee, sunshine streaming in—she had no idea that five minutes later, she’d be receiving a flurry of heart reacts, a cryptic “God bless you beta #StayPure” comment, and a DM from her mother-in-law asking why she wasn’t wearing sindoor. It had begun. The war for her social media. Just two months into marriage, Tanya had learned to live with many things: Rohan’s obsession with buying houseplants he’d forget to water, his weird nighttime playlist that included whale sounds, and the fact that his socks…

  • Comedy - English - Romance

    Swipe Left for Sitar

    Pritha Paul 1 Niharika Rao had precisely three rules in life: never eat cold idlis, never disrespect a raag, and never—ever—download a dating app. Unfortunately, on a humid Thursday morning in Bengaluru, two out of those three rules were broken. She sat cross-legged on her reed mat, sitar resting on her lap, and her forehead twitching in disbelief as her best friend Sonal leaned over with a smug smile. “Kultr,” Sonal said proudly, flashing the app’s screen. “Culture-only dating. No shirtless gym bros, just people who know who Mirza Ghalib is.” Niharika glared. “This is cultural heresy. I play raags,…

  • Comedy - English

    The WhatsApp Family War

    Nidhi Dikshit Chapter 1 It was a humid Tuesday morning in Pune, and the Dutta household was easing into its usual rhythm of post-breakfast inertia. In their modest 3BHK flat in Kothrud, Nana—Sudhir Dutta—sat cross-legged on his beige recliner, spectacles low on his nose, staring intensely at his smartphone. The television blared muted headlines in the background while the pressure cooker hissed from the kitchen. But Nana was engaged in a more critical national duty: circulating what he firmly believed was a “government scheme for Hindustan ke asli nagrik.” The image, a low-resolution JPEG full of typos and saffron borders,…