Aanya Roy Part 1: Arrival in Chandrapur The monsoon had begun its slow, deliberate siege over Bankura, draping the laterite hills in a persistent, misty gray. Every hill and hollow seemed to hold a secret, every forested path whispered with wind and rain. Arjun Sen’s jeep rolled over the slick red clay road, tires squelching in protest, as he left the asphalt of the district town behind and entered the forgotten spine of Chandrapur. The village appeared as if it had emerged from another century—terracotta temples leaning in tired dignity, mud walls patched with moss, and narrow lanes where…
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Bhaskar Majumder 1 The attic of Daipayan’s ancestral home in North Kolkata smelled of old books, mothballs, and the faint aroma of his grandfather’s pipe tobacco — a scent that clung to the wooden trunks and rusted almirahs like a memory too stubborn to leave. Dust motes danced in the slanting beam of afternoon light that filtered through a broken ventilator, casting long shadows on the faded floor mats. He wasn’t supposed to be here — just a short trip home for his cousin’s wedding — but the pull of nostalgia had dragged him up the creaky stairs to explore…