Fiction
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Ashes of Tomorrow
Rani Westwood Part 1 The sky had not been blue in seventeen years. People still talked about the last clear morning in whispers, like it was a folk tale passed down through ash-coated generations. They said the light used to feel warm, not searing. That clouds were once white and fluffy, not permanent smears of…
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The Whispering Forest
Risa Kharkongor Part 1 The clouds hung low over Mawlynnong, like thick blankets of cotton pressing gently upon the treetops, as if they were listening to a secret only the forest knew. Twelve-year-old Lari Khongdup stood barefoot on the damp earth, feeling the mud cling to her toes, the scent of moss, bamboo, and wild…
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After the Wedding: Siya’s Silence
Neelima Verma The Wedding Dream The mehendi hadn’t yet faded from her palms when Siya stepped into the grand foyer of her new home—her new home. The deep maroon stain curled along her fingers in delicate paisley patterns, a reminder of the rituals, the singing, the whispered jokes between cousins, and the scent of jasmine…
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The Minister’s Mistress
Mira Devika The Bride of Power The rain in Delhi had a peculiar scent that evening — part jasmine, part diesel, part something burning somewhere far away. The same scent Meher Kapoor remembered from her childhood, watching her father practice speeches before the mirror, shirt sleeves rolled up, his eyes alight with some unknowable fire.…
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Instagram Feminist
Reshmi Sinha Part 1 Misty scrolled through her phone as the afternoon sun slid gently across her balcony tiles. Her fingers paused, then moved rapidly over the keyboard, tapping out a caption beneath a carefully edited selfie. “Patriarchy has no place in our bodies. #MyBodyMyRules #FeministVoices #BurnTheNorms.” Within seconds, the likes began to roll in—heart-shaped…
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Brush and Bombay
Sameer Bhide 1 The train screeched to a halt with a metallic groan, and the smell of coal, iron, and a hundred kinds of human fatigue hung heavy in the air. Bimal stepped down onto the platform of Victoria Terminus with a battered canvas bag, a portfolio case under one arm, and an envelope stitched…
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The Bookstore Manifesto
Ruhi Nagral There are places in every city that live a secret life. In Delhi, one such place existed just off the chaos of Netaji Subhash Marg—a crooked alleyway in Daryaganj where noise dissolved into silence and the present seemed to pause. At the end of that alley stood an old haveli, its faded sandstone…
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The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter
Nandini Rao The waves crashed relentlessly against the jagged cliffs of Sundar Island, a speck of land lost in the vastness of the Arabian Sea. For more than a century, the island had been home to the old lighthouse, perched high above the swirling waters — a beacon of hope and warning to the passing…