English
-
13 Steps to the Rooftop
Armaan Lahiri The rain came early that year. Not the lazy monsoon drizzle that made the city dreamy—but a sharp, relentless downpour that beat against the windowpanes of hostel room 3C like an accusation. Rishi Banerjee sat cross-legged on his metal cot, headphones dangling around his neck, eyes scanning a half-scribbled cheat sheet for his…
-
Beneath the Tamarind Sky
Aarushi Sen 1 The air in Lucknow smelt of jasmine and rust. Under the domes of the Chota Imambara, where chandeliers from Belgium sparkled even on cloudy days, Zohra Begum walked barefoot through the marbled corridors, anklets jingling like restrained laughter. She was not born into the kotha, not raised with kohl-rimmed dreams, but life…
-
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.…
-
The Clockmaker’s Widow
Sreeparna Dutta Part 1: The Clock that Shouldn’t Tick The villa stood like a forgotten promise—wrapped in fog, choked by ivy, and hunched at the edge of the cliff like it wanted to leap off. Priya Kapoor stood before the iron gate of “Whispering Pines,” a name that now seemed laughably poetic. The trees didn’t…
-
Pearls Before the Moon
Anika Rao Part 1: The Taste of Irani Chai The clock struck six as Meher adjusted the silver jhumkas dangling from her ears, their soft chime blending into the evening azaan that echoed from the nearby Mecca Masjid. She stood by the rusted iron railings of the Charminar terrace, inhaling the scent of kebabs, rose…
-
The Equation of Us
Maanvi Shah The conference room was too cold for summer, like most VC firms that mistook temperature control for control in general. Rhea Mehta crossed her legs, stilettos clicking lightly as she adjusted her seat, eyes steady on the projected slide deck. “You’re up,” she said, voice clipped, betraying no emotion. Across the glossy table…
-
Satpura Files
Rajat Bhatia 1 The air in the Satpura forest had always felt like a living thing—dense, watchful, sacred. But this morning, Kabir Solanki sensed something else: silence that felt tampered with. The usual melody of drongos and parakeets had been replaced by the low, uneasy whisper of a forest holding its breath. Riding his forest…
-
The Tattoo Murders of Jaipur
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…
-
Unscripted
Avni Sharma Cut. Camera. Chaos. Adil Mehta hated networking events. He hated the artificial laughter, the overflowing wine glasses, the desperate smiles hiding behind even more desperate scripts. But tonight, he had no choice. His rent was due, his bank balance read like a horror story, and his last script — a coming-of-age story about…
-
Paper Tigers
Tarun Roy Chowdhury 1 Priyajit Sen always felt something breathing beneath the skin of Kolkata—a slow, unseen pulse carried by the rusted tramlines, the cracked facades of colonial buildings, and the tangled mess of alleyways where stories clung like moss on old bricks. At sixteen, he had grown used to slipping away after school, sketchbook…
-
The Ghost Follower
Rhea D’Souza She first saw the message at 2:13 a.m., glowing faintly on her cracked iPhone screen: @mydeathwasnotanaccident: You remember the swing. The blood. The lie. Tia Kapoor blinked, swiping the notification away. Half-asleep, she assumed it was a prank or spam. Probably a desperate bot scraping her older posts. She had, after all, posted…
-
Passport, Please!
Dinesh Rao Chapter 1: “Congratulations, You’re Going Abroad!” It was a dusty April afternoon in Kanpur, the kind of day where ceiling fans give up and men in banyans sit outside complaining about rising electricity bills. In the midst of this sweaty monotony, the Tripathi household was suddenly turned upside down by a shrill ringtone…