• English - Romance

    The Tea Stalls of Darjeeling

    Bipasa Pal One Simran’s arrival in Darjeeling was nothing short of magical. The cool mountain air greeted her as she stepped out of the small airport, the mist weaving its way through the towering pine trees. It was early morning, and the first rays of sunlight were beginning to paint the sky in hues of pink and gold. She stood for a moment, taking in the vastness of the hills and the peaceful stillness that surrounded her. The hustle and bustle of Delhi felt a world away, and in that instant, she felt both liberated and a little lost. Her…

  • Crime - English

    The Portrait of Her Silence

    Kiran Mehra Part 1: The Parcel Wrapped in Silk The parcel arrived on a late Monday afternoon, wrapped in fading blue silk with frayed edges that smelled faintly of mothballs and sandalwood. Advaita Roy didn’t remember ordering anything. No note. No sender. Just her name—Ms. A. Roy—written in a dark ink that had bled slightly at the corners, as if the paper had once wept. She set the package on her studio table, brushing aside paintbrushes, restoration cloths, and a yellowing file titled “Reclamation: Bengal Portraiture, 1890–1920.” Her studio, perched on the first floor of a heritage building near Kolkata’s…

  • Crime - English - Suspense

    The Monsoon Murders

    Swati Trivedi 1 The monsoon season had arrived in Shillong with an intensity that was both beautiful and foreboding. The clouds rolled over the hills like dark, heavy blankets, casting a shroud of mist that clung to everything. The town, famous for its relentless rains, seemed to hold its breath as the first wave of the downpour washed over the region. A body was found in one of the remote villages on the outskirts of the city, nestled deep in the mountains where few dared to go. Local authorities initially thought it was a landslide victim, a common occurrence during…

  • English - Travel

    The Desert Speaks

    Ayaan Venkatesh Sand Without Time Haider Khan stepped down from the rickety minivan with the stiffness of a man far older than his 38 years. The heat pressed against his face like a hand that didn’t care for permission. Red sand stretched endlessly ahead, framed by towering rocks carved into bizarre, wind-scoured shapes. Wadi Rum. He’d seen it once in a documentary, years ago. “The Valley of the Moon,” the narrator had called it. But here, in real time, there was no poetry. Only stillness. Only silence. The group disembarking with him was an odd assortment — a French woman…

  • English - Romance

    Borrowed Time

    Tara Mitra Part 1: The Clock with No Tick Dev Basu lived in a city that never stopped moving, but he himself hadn’t left his watch shop in three days. Tucked between a pharmacy and a dry cleaner in Mumbai’s quieter Byculla lane, Timekeeper’s Son was a fading reminder of another era. It smelled of polish and dust, ticked with the rhythm of dozens of clocks mounted like soldiers on the walls, each out of sync with the other. Dev, 35, preferred it that way. He was polishing the hands of an old grandfather clock when the bell above the…

  • English - Suspense

    By Order of the Goddess

    Kritika Nayak 1 The first body was found at dawn, sprawled beneath the ancient banyan that stood like a sentinel at the village’s edge. A ring of vermillion dust, turmeric paste, and burnt hibiscus petals encircled the corpse, meticulously drawn like a sacred yantra. Her eyes had been closed gently, palms folded over her chest, and a curved knife still rested between her fingers. Carved into her bare skin were symbols that hadn’t been seen in generations—spirals, flames, and a crescent moon that bled red. The villagers gathered in hushed awe, not terror. “The Devi has returned,” someone whispered, voice…

  • English - Romance - Travel

    Postcards from Hampi

    Sahana Pillai Chapter 1: Arrival in Ruins The sun was slipping behind the rust-coloured boulders when Tara stepped off the bus at Hampi Bazaar. The air smelled of dust, old stones, and wild basil, and the landscape looked nothing like the glossy travel blogs she’d scrolled through. This place felt older than time — a skeleton of an ancient empire, wrapped in silence. Her sandals crunched over gravel as she made her way past stray goats and rusted bicycles, dragging her suitcase with one wheel jammed. She had booked a guesthouse last minute, something called “Kishkinda View,” tucked behind banana…

  • English - Young Adult

    Paper Boats in Powai Lake

    Avni Kapoor One The school bell echoed through the marbled corridors of Ridgeway High, its chime too polished, too clinical—like the rest of the campus. Shaurya Mehta stepped out of the black BMW, his school blazer immaculately pressed, his expression unreadable. His driver wished him luck, but Shaurya barely nodded, already scanning the building as if preparing for battle. He walked through the glass doors, passing walls lined with motivational quotes and student achievement photos that featured kids just like him—groomed, rich, expected to shine. On the opposite end, a girl sprinted across the gate in scuffed sneakers and a…

  • Crime - English

    The Forgotten Man from Kalimpong

    Nilotpal Ghosh 1 The late afternoon sun slipped between pine branches as clouds gathered around the quiet ridges of Kalimpong. Avik Sengupta stood near the edge of the crumbling garden path, watching as a spade struck something solid under the wet soil. It was supposed to be a simple renovation—the old hilltop villa his grandmother left him had been locked for over a decade, its wooden beams rotting and windows sealed shut against mountain winds. But what the workers unearthed beneath a cracked stone slab was far from debris: first a skull, then a tangled set of ribs, and a…

  • English - Suspense

    The Whispering Walls of Park Street

    Arpita Roy Chapter 1:  Shreya Sengupta had always been a woman in motion, but now, after years of relentless hustle in Mumbai, she sought peace. The city had been exciting, demanding, and exhausting all at once, but the weight of it had worn her down. So, when the opportunity to move back to Kolkata presented itself, she seized it without a second thought. Her roots, her family, and the quieter rhythms of her childhood beckoned. She’d missed the sounds of the Howrah Bridge, the scent of street food wafting through narrow lanes, and the rhythm of the monsoon rains. Kolkata,…