Arjun Mehta Chapter 1 – The Final Departure The storm came in without warning, the kind of Mumbai monsoon that split the city into islands of survival. Streets drowned, taxis stalled like dying fish, and yet the lifeline of the city—the suburban trains—kept moving, dragging weary commuters through sheets of rain. At Churchgate station, the loudspeaker was already crackling about delays, though no one really listened. People had learned to treat delays like background noise, like the endless vendors selling umbrellas at triple their price. But on that night, when the rain lashed glass windows and lightning turned the platforms…
-
-
Anik Roy Chapter 1 – The Passenger List The call came just after midnight, when Delhi’s power grid seemed to hesitate in the humid air and the fan above Rhea Mukherjee’s desk spun on with a wheeze. She had been staring at the blinking cursor of a half-finished article, something forgettable about municipal corruption that her editor had already threatened to cut, when the unknown number appeared on her phone. The voice on the other end was muffled, unsteady, as though the caller was speaking from inside a tunnel. “You cover railways, don’t you?” the man asked. Rhea straightened in…
-
ঋত্বিক গাঙ্গুলি পর্ব ১ : অচেনা শহর স্টেশনের প্ল্যাটফর্মে দাঁড়িয়ে থাকা মানুষগুলো একে একে ট্রেনে উঠছে। ভোরের অন্ধকার তখনও কেটে যায়নি, দূরের আকাশে একটা অর্ধচন্দ্র ম্লান আলো ছড়াচ্ছে। শহরের নাম—চন্দ্রপুর। বেশ বড় নয়, আবার একেবারেই ছোটও নয়। মফস্বল আর শহুরে জীবনের মাঝামাঝি এক টানটান অবস্থান। এ শহরে হঠাৎ এসেছিল অর্ণব দত্ত—চোখে কালো চশমা, পরনে জিন্স আর ফেডেড জ্যাকেট। লম্বা, চওড়া কাঁধ, হাঁটার ভঙ্গিতে সেনা-শৃঙ্খলার আভাস। সে ছিল একসময় আর্মির মিলিটারি পুলিশ। এখন ঘুরে বেড়ানোই তার কাজ। কোথাও গন্তব্য নেই, কোথাও থাকার বাধ্যবাধকতা নেই। চন্দ্রপুরে নামার সিদ্ধান্তটা ছিল সম্পূর্ণ হঠাৎ। ট্রেনটা থামলো, আর সে নেমে গেল। চারপাশের মানুষরা তার দিকে তাকালো,…
-
Ethan Ray Episode 1: The Chamber Beneath the Library The storm over Florence had come without warning. Thunder rumbled across the Arno, rattling the glass panes of the Biblioteca Laurenziana as Professor Adrian Keller leaned over a spread of faded manuscripts. The medieval library, usually hushed in reverence, vibrated faintly with the sound of rain pounding against the roof tiles. The air smelled of ink, vellum, and age. Keller’s fingers, ink-stained from decades of work, trembled slightly as he turned the page of a sixteenth-century codex. He wasn’t supposed to be here alone. The library’s director had granted him a…
-
Arjun Nair Part 1 – The Arrival The train screeched into Netarhat station just before dusk, scattering a few sleepy dogs off the tracks. Meera Joshi stepped down with her rucksack, adjusting her glasses against the thick blanket of humidity that clung to the air. She was thirty-two, a wildlife biologist with years of fieldwork behind her, yet this place carried a silence she had never felt before. The sal trees stretched in dark rows beyond the station, their shadows already deepening with the falling light, as if the forest had secrets it was unwilling to share with newcomers. A…
-
Eira Sen Part 1: The Crackling The rain always came suddenly in her town, not like the timid drizzles that brushed over other places but like an argument with the sky itself. That evening, Tara was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her grandmother’s living room, tracing lines on her notebook when the storm struck. The shutters rattled, the lights flickered, and the smell of wet earth rushed in through the gaps under the door. Beside her, on the wooden cabinet that had been in the house longer than she had, stood the old Philips radio. Its red dial and…
-
Arvind Sen Episode 1: The Vanished Widow It was on a sultry September afternoon that I first heard of the case that would change the course of my modest career. The ceiling fan in my small office on College Street turned sluggishly, stirring the stale air, and I was almost dozing over a week-old newspaper when the phone rang. The voice on the other end was brittle, lined with suppressed panic, and unmistakably aristocratic. “Mr. Sen? This is Mrs. Chaudhuri of Alipore Lane. I need your help. My sister-in-law has disappeared. No one believes me, but something terrible has happened.”…
-
Daniel Arora The Signal The rain fell over Berlin in needles of silver, slicing through the pale light of the streetlamps that lined Friedrichstrasse. Adrian Cole stood beneath the brim of his hat, collar pulled high, the cold seeping into his gloves as if the city were testing him. The hour was late—too late for pedestrians, too early for traders—and yet the radio in his pocket had whispered something that forced him out of his safe flat on Krausenstrasse. A signal. Shortwave. Three dots, two dashes, then silence. The kind of sound that could tear apart whole governments if interpreted…
-
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…
-
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…