• English - Suspense

    Delhi’s Fog

    August 31, 2025 - By 

    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…

  • Crime - English - Suspense

    The House on Hazratganj

    August 30, 2025 - By 

    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…

  • Crime - English - Suspense

    The Poisoned Lassi

    August 28, 2025 - By 

    Pabandeep Singh 1 The day began with a deceptive calm as the Singh family gathered at the ancestral haveli, its sprawling courtyard decorated with marigold garlands and incense smoke curling into the late afternoon sky. The occasion was meant to be one of prayer and ritual, a havan arranged by Harjit Kaur to mark a prosperous harvest season and to offer blessings for the family’s future, but beneath the fragrance of camphor and the rhythmic chanting of the priest lay a storm of unspoken tensions. Gurpreet Singh, the eldest son, stood near the head of the courtyard, his arms crossed…

  • English - Suspense

    Snowfall of Silence

    August 28, 2025 - By 

    Arvind Malhotra The Arrival The bus from Delhi shuddered as it wound its way along the serpentine mountain road, the Beas river glinting like a steel blade far below. Arjun Malhotra sat by the window, notebook on his lap, watching the snowy ridges of Kullu rise into sight. Winter here wasn’t like the polite chill of Delhi—it was sharp, biting, and unrelenting. He pulled his muffler tighter but his eyes were alive with purpose. He wasn’t here to admire landscapes. He was chasing a story most people had chosen to ignore. The first whisper had come in an email—anonymous, unsigned.…

  • English - Suspense

    The Silent Bells of Goa

    August 27, 2025 - By 

    Aarav D’Souza Part 1 – The Drummer’s Son The monsoon had begun to soften the air of Goa, the heavy rains washing the red earth until it gleamed like polished stone. Coconut palms bent with the weight of wind and rain, and the Mandovi River ran fuller than before, carrying with it the murmurs of villages and the silence of temples that had once echoed with songs. In one such village, hidden away among groves of jackfruit trees, a boy named Ananta sat with his father’s old drum resting on his knees. The drum was no longer played in public.…

  • English - Suspense

    The Indigo Map

    August 27, 2025 - By 

    Ananya Dutta The Letter That Wouldn’t Fade The parcel arrived the way August rain arrives in Kolkata—suddenly, without apology. Brown paper had drunk a little water and dried into puckers; a twine knot sat like a small clenched fist in the middle. The return handwriting was unmistakable: forward-leaning letters, each one as if braced for a sprint. Mira Dutta had buried her grandfather two months ago, and yet here he was again, tapping her shoulder from the past. She slit the paper with a steel ruler and lifted out a flat wooden folder polished by long use. A note lay…

  • English - Suspense

    The Silent Courtyard

    August 26, 2025 - By 

    1 The taxi crawled through the labyrinthine lanes of North Kolkata, its honking lost beneath the tangle of tram bells, rickshaw wheels, and street vendors’ cries. Anwesha Chatterjee pressed her forehead against the window, staring at a city that was at once familiar and foreign. She had grown up here, in fits and fragments, spending summers in her father’s ancestral home before moving to Delhi for college and then her law career. Now, at twenty-eight, she was returning not as a visitor but as heir, summoned back by her father’s death. The car pulled up before the massive wrought-iron gates…

  • English - Suspense

    NIGHT WITHOUT EXITS

    August 26, 2025 - By 

    Aarav Mehta At 02:17 a.m., my phone rang with the same number that had stopped calling me eight years ago, a ghost of ten digits branded into the inside of my skull, and by the second ring my ribs felt like a locked drawer someone was rummaging through; I swiped, whispered “hello,” and heard only the soft clicking of a line held slightly open, air carrying the distant hum of traffic and a faint three-note whistle that I recognized from a forgotten Kolkata monsoon when an informant named R—had told me you could train a bird to return home but…

  • English - Suspense

    The Silent Neighbor

    August 26, 2025 - By 

    Arjun Mehra I carried my boxes up the third-floor because the lift wheezed and stalled and there was nobody to complain to at nine at night. The landing bulb blinked, giving the corridor a feeling of breathing, and my new door, 3B, looked like a mouth that had forgotten how to smile. I wanted anonymity: an unremarkable building, a small deposit, closed doors until my thoughts stopped arguing with the past. The lock turned cleanly. The rooms smelled of old paint and last year’s rain, dull enough to feel like starting over. Across the landing stood 3A. Curtains drawn, a…

  • English - Fiction - Suspense

    The Shadow Broadcast

    August 25, 2025 - By 

    Arjun Mehra he Shadow Broadcast By Arjun Mehra Part 1 – The Leak Rain glazed the pavements of London in a silver film that distorted neon into restless pools of color. At three in the morning, the newsroom of the Daily Standard lay deserted except for Eleanor Hart, who hunched over her terminal with the exhausted determination of someone unwilling to surrender to sleep. She had been chasing a dead lead on parliamentary lobbying, convinced that hidden money had been funneling itself into the corridors of Westminster. But the screen in front of her no longer displayed budget spreadsheets or…