Aarushi Trivedi One The monsoon had just withdrawn from the land, leaving behind a scent of damp earth and ancient memories as Dr. Meera Rao stepped off the dusty jeep that brought her to Shulgaon—a quiet riverside village wrapped in dense sal groves and secrets. From the banks of the Narmada, the landscape stretched out with a deceptive serenity, the river gliding past like a sentient observer. Meera adjusted the scarf around her neck, shielding herself from the lingering heat, her eyes already scanning the site marked by flags and canvas tarps. It was an unassuming mound just fifty meters…
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Asit Chowdhury 1 The red dust of Birbhum clung to Dr. Soumita Sen’s sandals as she stepped off the rickety local bus into the drowsy village of Palashpur. A warm wind carried the scent of mahua flowers and something more ancient—old wood smoke, dried hay, and the faintest echo of a tune no one seemed to sing. Her DSLR swung at her side, and in her leather satchel rested her most important equipment—a portable sound recorder and an archive notebook with trembling pages of half-remembered Baul songs. Palashpur had not been part of her original plan. She had been chasing…
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Milan Chetri Part 1: The Forgotten Graveyard The road to Mangalpur was little more than a cracked ribbon of asphalt swallowed by the forest. Raghav Mitra leaned forward in his jeep’s passenger seat, squinting at the GPS signal that blinked in and out like a dying candle. “This better not be another ghost town with cows and bad reception,” he muttered, brushing dust off his camera lens. Anya didn’t respond. She was too focused on keeping the jeep from skidding into the drainage ditch that lined the road. “Five more kilometers,” she finally said, her voice clipped. “After that, the…