Pramod Gupta Chapter 1: The Pushkar sky was ablaze with the twilight gold of November, washing the desert fairground in hues of copper and crimson. Thousands of camels stood tethered under brightly colored tents, while locals and tourists milled about—some bartering over livestock, others snapping photos of bearded snake charmers and turbaned herders. Drums beat in rhythm with the swirling ghagras of Rajasthani dancers, and the air smelled of roasted peanuts, camel sweat, and incense. Yet amid this festival of color and tradition, a shrill scream pierced through the evening cacophony. It came from a sandpit just beyond the edge…
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Asish Kumar Chapter One: The Collapse The roar of the crowd at Wankhede Stadium was deafening, a cyclone of noise and anticipation as the scoreboard blinked “19.5 overs – 164/7.” One ball left. Five runs needed. And standing at the crease, helmet tilted back slightly under the blistering floodlights, was Punit Shekhawat—the poster boy of modern Indian cricket, the heartthrob of the nation, the boy from Jodhpur who had become Mumbai Thunder’s talisman. Sweat shimmered off his brow as he took his stance. In the commentary box, voices trembled with energy. In the VIP box, team owner Vikrant Bajaj sipped…
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Aniruddh Iyer Chapter 1: Shadows of the Bronze The morning air in Kanchipuram was heavy with a strange silence, one that usually didn’t belong in the bustling temple town. The sun had barely risen over the ancient skyline of gopurams, and the air still smelled faintly of incense and jasmine. At the revered Kailasanathar Temple, an elderly priest named Ganapathy Iyer unlocked the sanctum doors with his usual devotion, murmuring slokas under his breath, but as he stepped into the inner chamber, he froze. His breath caught, the key slipped from his trembling fingers, clattering against the stone floor. The…
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Aritra Basu No one really knows when the nightmares began. Maybe it was the night Rehan clicked the link. Just a glowing green phrase in a forum full of digital shadows: “The Deepest Link – Do You Dare?” Most would scroll past, but Rehan was no most. Nineteen years old, brilliant with code and reckless with curiosity, he had spent the past few months exploring the surface and submerged layers of the internet. The dark web was his newest obsession. Not for drugs or weapons or conspiracy forums—but for secrets. He didn’t want to buy; he wanted to know. He…
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Ramesh Jha Chapter 1: The Arrival Snow fell in lazy spirals over Shimla’s Mall Road, blanketing the colonial rooftops and iron lamp posts in white. Tourists had thinned out by evening, and the narrow lanes echoed with the crunch of boots on icy gravel. Nestled between the aging Tudor-style library and a forgotten clock tower stood The Elgin Crest Hotel—a heritage property with oak-paneled halls, a grand staircase, and fireplaces that still burned real wood. Ayesha Mirza stepped out of her taxi, wrapped in a crimson shawl, boots sinking slightly into the slush. She had chosen this destination to escape…
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Part 1: The Dead Number Rehan Mehta’s phone buzzed once. Then again. Then it stopped. Half-asleep, he groaned and turned over in bed, pulling the blanket over his head. The digital clock on his desk blinked 2:13 AM in a harsh red glow. Whoever it was could wait. But then he saw the notification: 1 new voicemail from Unknown Number. He sat up. Unknown numbers weren’t unusual in his line of work — Rehan was an investigative journalist for The Daily Ledger. But voicemails at 2 AM? That was new. He plugged in his headphones and hit play. Static. Then…
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Nitish Joshi One The desert shimmered like an illusion, an expanse of white and gold stretching endlessly under the early winter sun. From above, the Rann of Kutch looked like a cracked mirror, its salt flats fragmented into wild geometries — but down here on the ground, it felt alive with movement, heat, and secret rhythms. The wind dragged dry whispers across the land as the colors of the Rann Utsav unfolded like a fever dream — turbans spinning in the breeze, mirror-work lehengas glittering, the scent of fried fafda and jaggery jalebi wafting from the festival stalls. Kabir Pathak,…
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Rohit Jha Chapter 1: The Silence Breaks The sun had only just begun to crest the misty ridge of the Shivalik hills when Inspector Arvind Rawat’s car crunched across the gravel path leading into Shakti Dham Retreat. The towering teak gate, adorned with Sanskrit shlokas and brass lotus insignias, parted slowly before him, revealing manicured gardens and stone pathways shaded by deodar trees. The ashram was a place of silence—literally so, as the guests were observing a week-long vow of maun vrat, speechlessness meant to cleanse the mind. But peace was the last thing present this morning. Arvind stepped out…
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Amitava Basu Chapter 1: The Disguise The heat was dry and biting as the prison gates of Bhairavgarh creaked open, the ancient iron groaning like it was waking from a deep slumber. Asha Rane stepped through with her head lowered and shoulders slumped, wearing a plain khaki salwar kameez and a bruised expression painted with theatrical precision. Her wrists bore plastic bruises from makeup, and her gaze was dulled intentionally — years of investigative journalism had taught her how to camouflage confidence into submissive silence. She clutched her forged file of charges — embezzlement, impersonation, Section 419 — all part…
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Anant Chowhan Chapter 1 The indoor pool was still cloaked in shadow when Suvam Dey stepped inside the cavernous space, his footsteps echoing against the high glass walls. The air smelled sharply of chlorine and faint mildew, a familiar scent that both comforted and stung. It was just past 4:30 AM, the hour he cherished most—before the noise, before the competition, before the world crept into the stillness. He dropped his duffel near the bleachers, removed his hoodie, and looked at the water—calm, mirrorlike, awaiting only him. Suvam dove in without hesitation, slicing through the silence. Each stroke was metronomic,…