Radhika Iyer One The monsoon had just started whispering over Chennai when Rudra Iyer walked into the Madras Chess Club for his final pre-tournament practice. The marble floor of the hall was damp from the humid wind sneaking in through the old lattice windows, and the scent of wet books, sweat, and varnished wood gave the room an odd comfort he had always known. At twenty-four, Rudra was already a Grandmaster and the brightest Indian hope in the upcoming Tamil Nadu International Grandmasters Open. But today, something felt misaligned. On the board, he played a quiet e4, the most classic…
-
-
Pratap MIshra 1 Arjun Desai stepped off the sleek black car and onto the dew-covered ground of the luxury resort, nestled in the misty hills of Mussoorie. The crisp mountain air filled his lungs, fresh and raw, as the early morning fog wrapped around the colonial-style buildings like a secret waiting to be uncovered. It was the perfect retreat, or at least, that’s what his manager had promised. After the public scandal—the rumors, the tabloid frenzy, the endless online mockery—Arjun needed peace. He needed to be far away from the chaos of Mumbai and its relentless pressure. The resort was…
-
Leena Rao Chapter 1: The Moonlit Arrival Viraj Saxena’s camera bag felt heavier than usual as he made his way down the dusty path that led to the riverbank. The sun had just set, casting an amber hue over the rugged landscape of Bhedaghat, a small town nestled by the Narmada River, near Jabalpur. Known for its towering white marble cliffs and the famous Dhuandhar Waterfall, Bhedaghat was a photographer’s dream. But Viraj had come here with a different purpose. He was after something deeper—something otherworldly. He had heard about the moonlit beauty of the marble rocks, a sight that…
-
Kabir Malhotra One Dev Mehra had always believed his camera saw what he couldn’t say. It was easier to stand behind the lens, to frame color and light into quiet stories, than to face people and speak his thoughts aloud. When his cousin Anika tugged at his arm that morning, excitement glinting in her eyes like the sunrise over the old havelis of Jaipur, Dev had only intended to nod politely. But Anika, relentless as the Rajasthani heat in May, wouldn’t take no for an answer. “You’re joining the club this year, Dev. Enough hiding,” she declared, dragging him across…
-
Vihaan Pillai 1 The first thing Diya Roy noticed as she stepped out of the auto-rickshaw was the riot of bougainvillea spilling over the crumbling walls, their magenta petals fluttering down like tired confetti. The villa, hidden behind this living curtain, looked both majestic and broken, its yellowed walls cracked with age, wooden shutters hanging loose, and a mossy veranda that hinted at better days. For a long moment, Diya stood silently, suitcase in hand, as the afternoon sun pressed gently against her skin, warming the doubt that had settled in her chest since she left Chennai. It had been…
-
Priyangshu Patil 1 Sahil sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the clock as the minute hand crept closer to midnight. The sound of crickets outside his window blended with the faint hum of the small village, but inside the room, there was a heavy silence. Tomorrow, or rather, tonight, he would be leaving his small town in Bihar and embarking on a journey that had always felt distant, almost like a dream. A dream that felt too big, too uncertain, yet necessary. He stood up and glanced at his suitcase, neatly packed with a few clothes, a…
-
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.”…
-
Ira Mehrotra The Town That Smelled of Salt and Silence The train screeched to a stop like it wasn’t ready to let go of Rihan Bose. He stepped down onto the sun-bleached platform of Kavar, a small town that clung to the southern coastline like a secret. The salty wind stung his skin, and gulls screamed overhead as if announcing his arrival. Not that anyone was listening. It was the kind of town where nothing ever really happened. And that was precisely the point. Aunty Kamala, his grandmother’s housekeeper, was the only one waiting. She waved half-heartedly, holding a paper…
-
Niranjan Pathak Nina Kapoor’s heart raced as the dusty roads of Rajasthan stretched endlessly before her, each turn taking her deeper into the forgotten heart of the desert. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the desolate landscape, turning the world into a haze of orange and pink. Nina, a young historian from Delhi, had come here with a single purpose: to investigate the ancient ruins of the Shivani Mata Temple, a place shrouded in mystery and steeped in legend. The village she arrived in, Kundalpur, was a relic of a bygone era. It lay at the edge…
-
Milan Chetri Part 1: The Forgotten Graveyard The road to Mangalpur was little more than a cracked ribbon of asphalt swallowed by the forest. Raghav Mitra leaned forward in his jeep’s passenger seat, squinting at the GPS signal that blinked in and out like a dying candle. “This better not be another ghost town with cows and bad reception,” he muttered, brushing dust off his camera lens. Anya didn’t respond. She was too focused on keeping the jeep from skidding into the drainage ditch that lined the road. “Five more kilometers,” she finally said, her voice clipped. “After that, the…