Emily D’Souza I first noticed Mira on a Monday the way you notice something you’ve lost and then convince yourself it had been there all along. She was at the far end of the corridor, standing in a square of sunlight from the skylight, hair catching dust motes. I was fifteen, new to St. Augustine’s, and learning to walk like I’d always belonged. Mostly, it meant walking fast and looking at blue pinboards, not people’s faces. It was assembly day. The principal preached punctuality, the choir missed a high note, and the sports captain reminded everyone to return cricket balls.…
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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…
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Mira Dutta Episode 1 – The First Bell The school bell rang with a shrill clang that sliced through the sleepy morning air of St. Paul’s Academy. It was the first day of the new academic session, and the classrooms smelled faintly of chalk dust, newly polished wooden desks, and the restless anticipation of students forced back into the rhythm of routine after a long summer. Arjun sat at the corner desk, last row, his head bent low as if the grain of the desk itself demanded his complete attention. He wasn’t shy in the ordinary sense, but silence came…
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Saanvi A. Menon The rain started sometime after midnight, stealthy at first, tapping like fingers on the tin awning outside Mira’s fourth-floor window. She didn’t get up to look. Mumbai rain, especially in late June, had a way of arriving without ceremony but leaving a trail. The fan above her bed slowed, hiccuped, and then stopped altogether. Silence followed, thick as wet wool. The power was out. Again. She lay still, waiting for the noise to return — a whirr, a click, the hallway inverter kicking in — but the darkness held. Beyond her shuttered window, thunder cracked the sky…
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লিপিকা বৰা পৰ্ব ১: প্ৰথম দেখা, প্ৰথম ধেমালি অসমৰ এখন সৰু চহৰ—নলবাৰী। এচাটিৰ ওপৰত ৰঙা বেলিৰ পোহৰ পৰিছে, আৰু এটা স্কুটিৰ শব্দেৰে শুব পৰা কলেজ ৰোডটো সঘন হৈ পৰিছে। কলেজৰ প্ৰথম বছৰ, আৰু আজিৰ দিনটো বিশেষ—নৱাগন্তুকবোৰৰ বাবে “ওৰিয়েণ্টেশ্বন”। নীলা শৰ্মা, ডিব্ৰুগড়ৰ পৰা অহা এখন মিচিকীয়া হাঁহিৰ লৰা ছোৱালী। তেওঁৰ চকুত এখন নতুন জগত—নতুন কলেজ, নতুন বন্ধুবান্ধৱী, আৰু সকলোবোৰত এটা আশাৰ ৰঙ। তেওঁ ইংৰাজী বিভাগত নাম ভৰ্তি কৰিছে, আৰু তেওঁৰ হাতত এটা ডায়েৰী, যেন তেওঁ সকলো কথা লিখি ৰাখিব খোজে। আনফালে, অভি ডেকা ছাত্ৰ। স্থানীয় ছোৱালীবিলাকৰ মাজত অলপ জনপ্ৰিয়। তেওঁ সমাজ বিজ্ঞানত পাঠ লৈছে, আৰু কলেজৰ নাটকৰ দলৰ অন্যতম মুখ। অভিৰ…
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Aarya Malik The Message The rain hadn’t stopped since dusk. It fell like memory—persistent, soft, and impossible to ignore. Marine Drive, usually buzzing with honking taxis and lovers escaping deadlines, lay blurred under a monsoon haze. The Arabian Sea raged in the distance, waves crashing against stone with the kind of wild certainty Aarav had never known in his own heart. He stood alone near the last curve of the promenade, where the streetlamp flickered every few seconds. His phone vibrated once. It wasn’t her. He stared at the message he had already sent. Come to Marine Drive. Now. Please.…