Rohan A. Desai Part One – The Arrival The city was still damp from the evening rain when Maya stepped out of the cab. The streets glistened with neon reflections, every puddle a trembling mirror that caught fragments of shop lights, passing headlights, and the restless pulse of Friday night. She adjusted the strap of her bag and drew her coat closer around her body, though the air wasn’t cold so much as alive with moisture. She could feel it clinging to her skin, making her aware of herself in a way that was both uncomfortable and strangely awakening. The…
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Arjun Devran Episode 1: The Price of Happiness They called it a gala because the word auction had acquired a bitter aftertaste. The broadcast opened on velvet—digital, of course—spilling across a stage whose edge glowed with the phosphor-blue logo of the Vault. A presenter in a silver suit moved like a dart of light from one podium to the next. Behind him: columns of data cascading in ribbons, small squares of people’s faces suspended in pastel halos. Above all of it, the city’s night leaned against glass, and rain threaded itself down the sides of towers as if it were…
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Aarushi Sen The road curved like a tired snake up the hillside, each turn opening to glimpses of mist rolling down the pines, and Mira Kapoor sat in the back seat of the rattling jeep clutching her bag as if it might steady her heart, wondering for the hundredth time if she was making a mistake by coming here at all, leaving behind the familiar noise of Delhi, the polished glass office towers, the people who used to smile at her in corridors but no longer looked her in the eye after she had broken off her engagement with Rohan,…
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Sabyasachi Pal I The late afternoon sun dipped into the smoky Kolkata skyline as Ananya Roy’s cab crawled through the labyrinth of traffic, the air thick with the blaring of horns, the chatter of street vendors, and the aroma of frying samosas. It had been nearly fifteen years since she had last visited the city of her birth, and yet as she peered out the window, the familiar chaos carried a pulse that tugged somewhere deep inside her chest. The sari-clad women balancing baskets of flowers, the tram bells clanging faintly in the distance, the lingering scent of incense at…
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Divya Srivatsav 1 The storm had been brewing all evening, and by the time the call came in, the skies over Mumbai had split open, unleashing a torrent that turned streets into rivers and the sea into a boiling monster that battered the shoreline. Ananya Sen arrived at Juhu’s elite neighborhood drenched but unflinching, her notebook and recorder protected under a plastic folder she carried everywhere during monsoon assignments. The bungalow, looming against the furious waves, stood like a stubborn relic, its sea-facing verandah lit by dim yellow lamps that flickered each time lightning ripped across the sky. Crowds of…
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Rinchen Thapa Chapter 1 The dawn broke slowly over the mist-cloaked valleys of Arunachal Pradesh, the jungle heavy with dew and the distant murmur of unseen rivers weaving through the dense canopy. Dr. Meera Sen adjusted the strap of her field bag as she followed the narrow trail cut by locals, her mind more on the expedition notes than the shifting ground beneath her boots. The air was thick with the perfume of wet earth and decaying leaves, each breath tinged with the wildness of a land still untamed by roads or electricity. Behind her, Colonel Arjun Rawat kept a…
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1 The train slowed into Lucknow Junction under a sky heavy with late afternoon heat, and Ananya Sen pressed her forehead against the glass to catch the first glimpse of the city she had read about for years. A history student with a fascination for architecture and the forgotten alleys of the past, she felt her pulse quicken as the domes and spires of the old city slid into view. Beside her, her younger cousin Meera was more animated by the thought of food than heritage, scrolling through her phone for the best kebab stalls she had bookmarked. The two…
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Nisha Kapoor The Monsoon Express pulled out of Mumbai Central just as the sky broke open with rain, sheets of water drumming against the station roof and streaking the glass panes of the luxurious coaches. Inside, the world was far removed from the storm—velvet upholstery, polished wood, and the quiet hum of attendants who glided between compartments. Wealthy passengers sipped wine or tea, their conversations blending with the clink of cutlery. Among them sat Rajiv Mehta, the diamond merchant whose reputation preceded him. He leaned back in his chair, heavy rings glinting as he raised his glass, speaking too loudly…
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Pinaki Chouhan The morning air in Guwahati buzzed with anticipation as a group of high school students gathered at the city bus stand, their backpacks slung over shoulders and cameras dangling from necks, ready for a cultural trip to Shillong. Excited chatter filled the bus as friends jostled for window seats, their voices blending with the rumble of the engine and the scent of freshly brewed tea from the roadside stalls. Teachers tried to maintain some order, reminding students of the itinerary while the students’ eyes sparkled at the thought of scenic hills, cascading waterfalls, and bustling local markets awaiting…
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Lalit Kumar Tripathi The summer sun scorched the land with a vengeance, its fiery rays baking the cracked soil until it seemed the earth itself was thirsty. The dam that once brimmed with monsoon-fed waters now lay half-empty, its shoreline retreating day by day to expose what had been hidden for decades beneath its depths. From the muddy floor emerged strange, skeletal shapes—walls leaning against time, stones half-swallowed by silt, and the tilted shadow of a bell tower that once belonged to a village no one had seen in a generation. Fishermen, their nets dragging in shallow waters, muttered darkly…