Anwesha Roy Chapter 1 – When the Lights Went Out The night air of Kolkata was heavy with humidity, a restless monsoon evening when the clouds hung low over the city and the streets carried the smell of wet tram tracks, diesel, and frying telebhaja from small roadside stalls. Riddhi walked briskly, her umbrella folded and damp at her side, a canvas tote bag stuffed with manuscripts brushing her hip at each step. She had spent the entire afternoon at College Street, haggling with secondhand sellers for rare copies of novels long out of print, and then at her publishing…
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Ira Sen Part 1 The bus rattled across the endless stretch of Patagonian steppe, its windows clouded with a thin film of dust that the wind seemed to scatter and replace in equal measure. Mira pressed her forehead against the cold glass, staring out at a world that felt larger than any she had known before, a land stripped bare of pretence, where the earth and sky met in an uncompromising line. She had been divorced for six months, though the word still felt sharp on her tongue, and this journey—half impulsive, half deliberate—was meant to be her own form…
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Roshan Lama 1 The mist clung heavily to the slopes of Darjeeling that morning, veiling the tea gardens in a silvery pallor that made everything look otherworldly. The Caldwell bungalow stood aloof on its rise, a relic of colonial grandeur with its sloping roof and wide verandah, but something about its silence felt wrong. It was the watchman Hari Das who first raised the alarm, his shaking hands pointing toward the half-opened door where the lamps still burned from the night before. Inside, Richard Caldwell, the formidable manager of the estate, lay sprawled across a Persian rug in the drawing…
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Kaustabh Ahuja Chapter 1 Winter 2025. Delhi lay shrouded under a gray, choking blanket of smog, a toxic haze so thick it swallowed the city whole. The usual morning bustle of Chandni Chowk—hawkers setting up their stalls, bicycles weaving between the crowd, the faint aroma of parathas sizzling on iron griddles—was muted, filtered through the oppressive gray. Visibility was no more than five meters; familiar buildings, ancient havelis, and neon signs disappeared into an opaque whiteness. Pedestrians coughed violently, their scarves drawn up to cover faces, eyes squinting through the haze, wary of every step. Amid this chaos, a man…
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Rudra Pratap Sharma 1 The dusty roads leading into Alwar shimmered beneath the late afternoon sun as Devendra “Dev” Singh leaned forward against the rattling seat of the hired jeep, his eyes fixed on the rugged Aravalli Hills in the distance. The heat pressed down, unforgiving, but for Dev, the oppressive weather was just another detail in the landscape of Rajasthan—a backdrop to history’s forgotten voices. A backpack filled with notebooks, excavation tools, and his trusty camera rested by his side, each item carefully chosen for the task ahead. He had come not as a tourist, but as a seeker…
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Drishan Desai 1 The road to the caravanserai seemed endless, a ribbon of dust unraveling between the pale, desolate mountains. The solo traveler had been driving for hours, his jeep groaning under the strain of altitude and gravel, its wheels kicking up fine sand that swirled like smoke in the thin air. He had expected only silence here, a silence so vast it might collapse upon itself. Yet when he finally slowed before the ruins, the silence seemed heavy rather than empty, as if it were filled with the residue of countless footsteps, voices, and lives that had once passed…
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Ipsita Sharma One Kunal Malhotra sat at his cluttered study desk, a half-finished math assignment spread before him, the pages filled with doodles instead of equations. His hair was messy, his eyes half-closed, but the frustration boiling inside him refused to let him sleep. Tomorrow was another Monday—another week of endless homework, boring classes, and that dreadful morning assembly where students stood like robots reciting prayers they barely believed in. He opened his phone, intending to scroll aimlessly through memes until sleep took over, but something inside him snapped. Instead of laughing at someone else’s jokes, he turned the camera…
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Purnendu Dey I The road to Jhargram was lined with towering sal and mahua trees, their shadows stretching long in the golden light of late afternoon as the car carrying Arjun and Priya turned towards the palace gates. For both of them, this was supposed to be a moment of pride, of fulfillment—choosing a venue that not only reflected heritage and grandeur but also marked the beginning of their married life in an unforgettable way. Priya, who had spent years documenting old forts and mansions as part of her conservation projects, was brimming with excitement, her eyes darting between the…
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Divya Chaturvedi Chapter 1 The Second Space opens with Arjun Malhotra standing on the expansive balcony of his newly rented penthouse, the evening sun casting golden streaks across the sleek skyline of central Bangalore. After years of relentless corporate pressures and the quiet erosion of intimacy in his marriage, Arjun had finally made the decision to carve out a private sanctuary. The penthouse, with its minimalist décor, glass walls, and the hum of the city muted beneath him, symbolizes more than just physical space—it represents freedom. Inside, every detail caters to tranquility: soft lighting, polished wooden floors, and strategically placed…
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Mohit Gupta 1 The rain had been relentless that night in Lucknow, turning the streets of Hazratganj into glistening rivers of neon reflections. The abandoned colonial mansion stood at the edge of the bustling market, a towering relic of British architecture swallowed in shadows, its façade cracked and weather-beaten, windows like hollow eyes staring into the storm. For years, the house had been whispered about in tea stalls and alleyway conversations—said to be cursed, a place where footsteps echoed in the dead of night though no one lived there, where whispers curled around like smoke in the dark. But on…