• Crime - English

    The Portrait of Her Silence

    July 14, 2025 - By 

    Kiran Mehra Part 1: The Parcel Wrapped in Silk The parcel arrived on a late Monday afternoon, wrapped in fading blue silk with frayed edges that smelled faintly of mothballs and sandalwood. Advaita Roy didn’t remember ordering anything. No note. No sender. Just her name—Ms. A. Roy—written in a dark ink that had bled slightly at the corners, as if the paper had once wept. She set the package on her studio table, brushing aside paintbrushes, restoration cloths, and a yellowing file titled “Reclamation: Bengal Portraiture, 1890–1920.” Her studio, perched on the first floor of a heritage building near Kolkata’s…

  • Bangla - রহস্য গল্প

    শেষের গন্ধ

    July 5, 2025 - By 

    অনিন্দ্য সেন ১ সকালটা অন্য দিনের মতোই ছিল—আলোর বন্যা ছড়িয়ে পড়ছে শেক্সপিয়র সরণির খোলা জানলা দিয়ে, পাখির ডানার শব্দ মিশে যাচ্ছে ঘড়ির টিকটিক শব্দে। কিন্তু অনির্বাণ বসুর নাকে সকালটা কেমন যেন অন্যরকম গন্ধ নিয়ে হাজির হয়েছিল। এই গন্ধটা সে এর আগে কখনও পায়নি। যেন বাদামি কাগজের ভাঁজে পুরনো অভিমানের মত গন্ধ, যেন এক মৃত নারীর ঠোঁটে লেগে থাকা শেষ হাসির ছায়া। অনির্বাণ, পেশায় এক ‘নোজ’—অর্থাৎ পেশাদার ঘ্রাণবিশেষজ্ঞ। বিদেশ থেকে স্নাতক করে ফিরে এসে গত পাঁচ বছর ধরে সে কলকাতার সবচেয়ে অভিজাত পারফিউম ব্র্যান্ড ‘সুরভি’তে কাজ করে। তার কাজ নতুন সুগন্ধের সন্ধান, নতুন ঘ্রাণের সংমিশ্রণ তৈরি করা, যেগুলো মানুষ পরে গায়ে…

  • Crime - English - Suspense

    The Quiet Exit

    July 4, 2025 - By 

    Ananya D’Souza Part 1 — The Locked Flat The rain had fallen hard the night before, and the grey morning light was doing little to scrub the city clean. Mumbai was damp, impatient, and hungover. Detective Inspector Reeva Kale lit her third cigarette of the morning as she stepped out of her beat-up white Mahindra Thar, ignoring the security guard trying to catch her attention. She hated apartment towers—too many floors, too many alibis. This one was worse: a posh building in Andheri West with glass balconies and silent lifts. Too clean to be honest. The call had come at…

  • Assamese

    নীল পেনৰ সাক্ষী

    July 3, 2025 - By 

    হেমন্ত বৰা মৃতদেহ আৰু নীল দাগ সন্ধিয়া চাৰি বজাত ডঃ নীলিমা বেজবৰুৱাই শেষ ৰোগীৰ প্ৰিস্ক্ৰিপচনটো লিখি চকুত চশমাটো ওপৰলৈ ঠেলিলে। হস্পিটালৰ জানালিৰে পৰা আহি পৰা সোণালী ৰশ্মিয়ে তেওঁৰ কাষৰ টেবুলটো পাহি উঠাইছিল। বাহিৰত গুৱাহাটীৰ বতৰ শান্ত, কিন্তু ভিতৰত এটা কঠিন চক্ৰান্ত থলুৱা গৰ্ভত যেনে পাক খাই আছিল। ঠিক সেই সময়তে হস্পিটালৰ ইনটাৰকম বাজিল। “মেডিকেল ওয়ার্ড নম্বৰ ট্ৰি, ইমাৰজেঞ্চি!”। নীলিমাই পাছে টেবুলৰ ওপৰত থকা নীল পেনটো উঠাই তুলি ৰাখিলে, যেন অভ্যাসগতভাৱে, আৰু খটখটকৈ খোজ কঢ়িয়াই ওলাই গ’ল। ওয়ার্ড ট্ৰিত প্ৰৱেশ কৰাৰ লগে লগে দেখা পালেগৈ — এখন বেডত লোঠা হৈ পৰি থকা এজন পুৰুষ, প্ৰাণ নাথাকিলেও চকুত ভয় জমি আছিল। ডঃ…

  • Crime - English

    Redial

    June 26, 2025 - By 

    Part 1: The Dead Number Rehan Mehta’s phone buzzed once. Then again. Then it stopped. Half-asleep, he groaned and turned over in bed, pulling the blanket over his head. The digital clock on his desk blinked 2:13 AM in a harsh red glow. Whoever it was could wait. But then he saw the notification: 1 new voicemail from Unknown Number. He sat up. Unknown numbers weren’t unusual in his line of work — Rehan was an investigative journalist for The Daily Ledger. But voicemails at 2 AM? That was new. He plugged in his headphones and hit play. Static. Then…

  • Crime - English

    Beneath the Grapevines

    June 20, 2025 - By 

    Shruti Salgaonkar Chapter 1: The Quiet Vineyard The sun had just begun to retreat behind the Sahyadris, casting a burnt-orange glow across the rolling vineyards of Nashik. The air smelled of ripening grapes and spring dust. Inspector Arvind Deshmukh parked his white Bolero at the edge of the Kadam estate and stepped out. The place was too quiet for a house that had just reported a death. A constable approached. “Sir, victim is Rohit Kadam. Forty-two. Winemaker. Found dead in bed by his wife, Meera Kadam. No signs of forced entry. Door was locked from the inside.” Arvind nodded without…

  • Hindi - क्राइम कहानियाँ

    साया: मुम्बई के अंधेरे का चेहरा

    June 19, 2025 - By 

    राहुल शुक्ला भाग 1: धारावी का नया राजा धारावी की तंग गलियाँ उस रात कुछ ज्यादा ही चुप थीं। हवा में बारूद की गंध घुली थी और पुलिस की सायरन की आवाज़ दूर से गूंज रही थी। साया — मुम्बई अंडरवर्ल्ड का एक नाम, जिसे सुनते ही लोगों के चेहरे पर पसीना छलक आता था — आज रात एक और खून के बाद माफिया की गद्दी पर पूरी तरह बैठ चुका था। साया का असली नाम था रईस अली, लेकिन अब उसे कोई इस नाम से नहीं जानता। वो गुमनाम रहना चाहता था, पर उसकी कहानियाँ हर नुक्कड़-चाय की दुकान…

  • Crime - English

    The Seventh Morning

    June 18, 2025 - By 

    Aditya Karnik Shadows at Dawn The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the mist already draped over the ancient stone temple like a shroud. Birds refused to sing. In the village of Chittakere, Karnataka, morning was no longer a time of peace—it was a countdown to death. Detective Prasant Sharma stepped out of the jeep, his boots sinking slightly into the wet red earth. His khaki coat bore the weight of night-long travel and older memories he didn’t want stirred. Behind him, constables Sanjay and Latha looked equally grim, both glancing toward the towering temple spire that loomed against the pale…

  • Crime - English

    The Last Wave at Palolem

    June 15, 2025 - By 

    Vivaan Sharma The Body on the Shore The waves crashed softly against the rocks, their rhythm almost meditative under the hazy early morning sun. Palolem Beach was just beginning to wake—fishermen pulling in their nets, yoga teachers arranging mats on the sand, tourists stretching and sipping on bitter black coffee from the shacks. And then the scream. It sliced through the humid air like a blade. A local boy had found her—curled on her side near the rocky edge of the shore, half-buried in sand, her hair tangled with seaweed. At first glance, it looked like she had been sleeping.…

  • English - Crime

    The Last Chapter

    June 8, 2025 - By 

    Amal Shukla Part 1 It was just past 3 AM when the neighbors in Versova’s Sea Breeze Heights heard the gunshot. A loud, sharp crack that echoed through the tiled corridors and bounced off the closed windows of sleeping apartments. No one called the police. In Mumbai, people had learned to let things pass. Besides, the rains were hammering down, and it was easy to believe the noise was just thunder. In Flat 9C, Rajiv Mehta lay sprawled on the Persian carpet of his study, a bullet hole clean through his forehead. His right hand was still resting on the…