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…
-
-
Mira D’Silva Episode 1 – The Hidden Canvas Ananya Mehta had never entered Professor Hall’s office without permission before. The narrow corridor outside the Fine Arts Department was deserted that evening, the winter light drained from the sky, and the flickering tube light above made the varnished wooden door glow in a tired, sickly sheen. She stood with her hand on the brass knob, half-deciding whether to turn away, but curiosity had its own pull. Hall had sent her a hurried message to retrieve a folder from his desk, nothing more. He had sounded distracted, impatient even, as though every…