Tara Mitra Part 1: The Clock with No Tick Dev Basu lived in a city that never stopped moving, but he himself hadn’t left his watch shop in three days. Tucked between a pharmacy and a dry cleaner in Mumbai’s quieter Byculla lane, Timekeeper’s Son was a fading reminder of another era. It smelled of polish and dust, ticked with the rhythm of dozens of clocks mounted like soldiers on the walls, each out of sync with the other. Dev, 35, preferred it that way. He was polishing the hands of an old grandfather clock when the bell above the…
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Aanya Dasgupta Part 1: The First Drizzle It wasn’t raining yet, not exactly. The sky was still in negotiation, heavy with clouds that hadn’t quite made up their mind. Nia sat by the window of a narrow Hauz Khas café, her fingers curled around a mug of lukewarm coffee, staring absently at her laptop screen. The jazz playing overhead was faint, the kind that seemed to belong in another decade, but it fit the dim light and cracked wooden tables. Her document was open but untouched. She was supposed to be working on a cover design for a new historical…
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Ashutosh Roy Chapter 1: The Book and the Bench It had just rained in Delhi. Not the torrential kind that makes the streets flood and autos stall in mid-traffic tantrums. This was the soft drizzle that left the air smelling like soaked earth and wild chameli. The Yamuna River, still and quiet, flowed beside the narrow walkway behind the old college canteen—forgotten by most, except for those who loved the quiet. Ayaan didn’t particularly love the quiet. But he had begun showing up here on Sundays, almost ritualistically, like someone trying to form a habit out of peace. He was…