Avinab Seth Chapter 1: The Ball That Broke Tradition The dusty field behind the temple wasn’t much—a patchy stretch of cracked earth, a pair of mismatched wickets, and a tattered red cricket ball held together more by tape than leather—but for sixteen-year-old Meera Patil, it was a universe of freedom. That late afternoon, the village sun was merciless, but her focus was sharper. Dressed in a loose kurta and borrowed pajama pants, she took her stance like she’d seen her heroes do on TV. As the boy opposite her bowled, Meera swung with every ounce of her strength and connected…
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Riya Bhattacharya 1 The sun hung low in the Kolkata sky, its light strangely muted as if nature itself was holding its breath. The city buzzed with excitement over the impending solar eclipse, the rare astronomical event that had drawn both superstition and science into equal frenzy. But sixteen-year-old Isha Sen couldn’t care less. Trapped in her family’s ancestral home in North Kolkata, a crumbling mansion older than the city’s electric lines, she fidgeted through incense smoke and the endless drone of priests chanting shlokas. Her mother had insisted they be there for “tradition,” and her grandmother, Dida, had only…
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Kabir Malhotra One Dev Mehra had always believed his camera saw what he couldn’t say. It was easier to stand behind the lens, to frame color and light into quiet stories, than to face people and speak his thoughts aloud. When his cousin Anika tugged at his arm that morning, excitement glinting in her eyes like the sunrise over the old havelis of Jaipur, Dev had only intended to nod politely. But Anika, relentless as the Rajasthani heat in May, wouldn’t take no for an answer. “You’re joining the club this year, Dev. Enough hiding,” she declared, dragging him across…
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Priyangshu Patil 1 Sahil sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the clock as the minute hand crept closer to midnight. The sound of crickets outside his window blended with the faint hum of the small village, but inside the room, there was a heavy silence. Tomorrow, or rather, tonight, he would be leaving his small town in Bihar and embarking on a journey that had always felt distant, almost like a dream. A dream that felt too big, too uncertain, yet necessary. He stood up and glanced at his suitcase, neatly packed with a few clothes, a…
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Avni Kapoor One The school bell echoed through the marbled corridors of Ridgeway High, its chime too polished, too clinical—like the rest of the campus. Shaurya Mehta stepped out of the black BMW, his school blazer immaculately pressed, his expression unreadable. His driver wished him luck, but Shaurya barely nodded, already scanning the building as if preparing for battle. He walked through the glass doors, passing walls lined with motivational quotes and student achievement photos that featured kids just like him—groomed, rich, expected to shine. On the opposite end, a girl sprinted across the gate in scuffed sneakers and a…
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Vikram Nair Chapter 1: The Flute’s Call The sun hung low over the village of Vypin, casting long shadows across the palm-fringed backwaters that glimmered like silver ribbons. Arjun, a boy of sixteen, stood on the rickety dock, watching the fishermen return with their daily catch. The salty breeze tousled his unruly hair, and the familiar scent of the river filled his lungs. Yet, despite the peaceful scene around him, Arjun felt a deep sense of restlessness. His heart was not in the daily grind of fishing that his family had been bound to for generations. While his father, Raghavan,…
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Aarohi Jadhav Chapter 1: Rain, Reluctance, and Rust The bus ride to Dapoli was as grey and endless as the monsoon clouds that followed it. Vanya Kale sat hunched beside the window, her earbuds silent, the phone in her lap long out of charge. Her mother’s hurried goodbye still echoed in her ears — “It’s just for a month, sweetheart. He’s your grandfather, not a ghost.” But to Vanya, it was all the same. Her grandfather, Arvind Kale, a once-famous Marathi poet, now lived alone in a crumbling house overlooking the sea, speaking to no one and surrounded by furniture…
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Rajesh Agarwal 1 Mira Kaul stepped off the plane from Pune with her sketchbook clutched so tightly in her hand that the cover bent slightly at the corners, the soft paper bruised by the pressure of her restless thumb. The Bangalore Airport smelled of strong coffee, polished floors, and quiet anticipation—a place caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, where strangers sat hunched over phones, and neon signs cast pools of sterile light across tired faces. Her connecting flight to Chennai wouldn’t leave until dawn, which meant six long hours of wandering in a place that wasn’t quite hers, surrounded by…
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Pulak Goswami Chapter 1: The Storm That Spoke The day the storm came, the air in Pranoy’s village crackled with a kind of silence that wasn’t natural. Even the herons had stopped calling from the mangrove trees, and the fishermen had returned earlier than usual, hauling their nets as if fleeing from an unseen predator. Pranoy stood barefoot at the edge of the muddy path that led to the river, watching the clouds gather like ink spilled across the sky. The water in the canals had turned a darker green, and the mangrove leaves whispered secrets to one another in…
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Sreeparna Bajpai Chapter One: The Desert Exile Inaaya Khan squinted through the dusty window of the jeep as the golden sprawl of Jaisalmer crept into view. It looked less like a city and more like a mirage—a honeycomb of sandstone rising from the endless dunes, its turrets and balconies blurred by waves of heat dancing above the ground. The driver, a leathery old man with a marigold behind his ear, had barely spoken since they left the railway station, except to complain about the temperature and how the summer came early this year. Inaaya didn’t mind the silence. She leaned…