• Crime - English - Suspense

    The House on Hazratganj

    Mohit Gupta 1 The rain had been relentless that night in Lucknow, turning the streets of Hazratganj into glistening rivers of neon reflections. The abandoned colonial mansion stood at the edge of the bustling market, a towering relic of British architecture swallowed in shadows, its façade cracked and weather-beaten, windows like hollow eyes staring into the storm. For years, the house had been whispered about in tea stalls and alleyway conversations—said to be cursed, a place where footsteps echoed in the dead of night though no one lived there, where whispers curled around like smoke in the dark. But on…

  • Crime - English

    The Tea Estate Murders

    Anurima Ghosh 1 The train wound its way through the steep curves of the hills, the rhythmic clatter of wheels fading into the hush of the morning mist. Detective Satyen Chatterjee leaned against the window of his compartment, watching the world blur into shades of gray and green. Darjeeling, with its colonial houses perched like watchful sentinels and the endless rows of tea bushes stretching into the fog, had always held for him a curious mixture of charm and melancholy. This was no leisurely visit, however. The summons from the Darjeeling police was urgent: a murder had been discovered in…

  • Crime - English

    Cyber Blood

    Karan Ahuja 1 Raghav Rao sat hunched over the glow of his monitor in the empty IT office, the soft hum of cooling fans the only company in the midnight silence. Outside, Bangalore’s Outer Ring Road buzzed with the faint rhythm of traffic, but inside the glass tower it was a different world—one of endless code, shifting deadlines, and invisible pressure. He was used to the long hours, the quiet loneliness of staying back while his colleagues left for pubs or late-night biryanis. But tonight felt different. As his fingers traced the logic of the application update, line by line,…

  • Crime - English

    The Fog Heist

    Sahir Kaul Chapter 1 The night air in Surat carried the faint scent of the Tapi River and the metallic hum of industry, but inside the towering facade of the Shree Omkar Luxury Vault, silence reigned. The building’s polished marble lobby gleamed under low security lighting, the air-conditioned chill a stark contrast to the humid streets outside. At 11:48 p.m., a black SUV glided into the underground parking bay, its windows tinted beyond regulation. Three figures emerged, faces hidden behind sleek, black half-masks, their movements precise and unhurried. They passed through the biometric scanner using codes that should have been…

  • Crime - English

    The Last Signal from Kalka Mail

    Sagnik Basu The Kalka Mail pulled out of Howrah Station at exactly 7:40 p.m., its long, rattling compartments groaning like a creature awakened from slumber. Among the many passengers boarding that evening was Anant Vashisht, a man in his late sixties, lean and upright, with a faded Nehru jacket and an expression that gave nothing away. He moved quietly through the First AC coach, berth 42, settling into his compartment with the calm precision of someone trained to disappear in plain sight. He carried one thing of interest—a brown leather briefcase with steel corners, chained to his wrist. Fellow passengers…

  • Crime - English

    The Last Stop at Churchgate

    Mithilesh Sharma 1 The last train of the day hissed into Churchgate station like a tired animal, exhaling its mechanical breath into the near-empty platform. The digital clock above flickered—11:17 PM. A young woman in a pale blue kurti stepped off the 10:45 PM Borivali fast local, clutching her jute bag close. Nikita Majumdar. Her phone buzzed once in her pocket, but she didn’t check it. The cameras caught her image in three places—exiting the ladies’ compartment, walking past the stationery kiosk, then disappearing behind the pillar near the service stairwell. After that, nothing. The next time anyone saw her,…

  • Crime - English

    The Chessboard Killer

    Radhika Iyer One The monsoon had just started whispering over Chennai when Rudra Iyer walked into the Madras Chess Club for his final pre-tournament practice. The marble floor of the hall was damp from the humid wind sneaking in through the old lattice windows, and the scent of wet books, sweat, and varnished wood gave the room an odd comfort he had always known. At twenty-four, Rudra was already a Grandmaster and the brightest Indian hope in the upcoming Tamil Nadu International Grandmasters Open. But today, something felt misaligned. On the board, he played a quiet e4, the most classic…

  • Crime - English

    Spices and Scars

    Meghna Varma 1 The monsoon clouds rolled in like silk unfurling over the Arabian Sea, casting a silver hush over the old Varghese estate. At the edge of Fort Kochi’s quieter inland, the ancestral home stood like a memory that refused to be erased—timbered walls darkened with age, red tiles mossed over, and spice trees bending slightly in the drizzle, as though listening. Maya Varghese stood on the veranda, her silk kurta absorbing the faint scent of rain and cardamom. The culinary retreat guests were arriving—five in all—but her eyes lingered on the tall man with a limp, stepping out…

  • Crime - English

    Satpura Files

    Rajat Bhatia 1 The air in the Satpura forest had always felt like a living thing—dense, watchful, sacred. But this morning, Kabir Solanki sensed something else: silence that felt tampered with. The usual melody of drongos and parakeets had been replaced by the low, uneasy whisper of a forest holding its breath. Riding his forest department-issued motorbike along a narrow dirt path cloaked in early mist, Kabir scanned the sal and teak trees with a practiced eye. He had served in these jungles for nearly five years since leaving the army, but he’d never seen this particular route—just beyond Jamni…

  • Crime - English - Horror

    Echoes of Teesta Villa

    Maitreyee Basu Chapter 1: The Blood on the Floorboards   The monsoon clouds had just begun to roll over Kalimpong’s forested ridges when Dr. Arjun Roy’s taxi took the final bend toward Teesta Villa. The road, snaking through damp pine groves and moss-streaked colonial fences, looked like a forgotten memory. Arjun watched from behind fogged glasses as the worn iron gates of the villa emerged from a curtain of mist—weathered, crooked, and latched with a rusted chain that looked as old as the town itself. He stepped out with his leather satchel, the thick scent of wet soil, mildew, and…