অর্কপ্রভ দে পর্ব ১: প্রথম ফোন কেনা কলকাতার গরম দুপুরে প্রফুল্লবাবু হাঁপাতে হাঁপাতে গড়গড় করে রিকশা থেকে নামলেন। হাতে ছোট্ট একটা থলে, যার ভেতরেই লুকিয়ে আছে তাঁর জীবনের সবচেয়ে বড় অর্জন—প্রথম স্মার্টফোন। এতদিন তিনি একটা বাটনওয়ালা ফোনেই দিব্যি কাটাচ্ছিলেন। অফিসে ফোন করা, ছেলেকে মিসড কল দেওয়া, আর দরকার হলে এক-আধটা এসএমএস—এই ছিল তাঁর জগত। কিন্তু ছেলে আর মেয়ে মিলে গত এক মাস ধরে এমন কান ঝালাপালা করে দিয়েছে যে শেষ পর্যন্ত তিনি বাধ্য হলেন। “বাবা, সবার কাছে হোয়াটসঅ্যাপ আছে, তুমি এখনও বাটন ফোন নিয়ে বসে আছো? এটা তো একেবারে প্রাগৈতিহাসিক ব্যাপার!”—ছেলের গলা এখনও তাঁর কানে বাজছে। দোকানদারও যেন তাঁকে নিয়ে…
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Arjun Menon Part 1 – The Prayer at Midnight Rahul sat hunched over his desk in the dim hostel room, surrounded by a fortress of half-empty coffee mugs, Maggi packets, and photocopied notes so smudged they looked like ancient manuscripts. The fan spun lazily above his head, squeaking every few rotations like it too was tired of his engineering syllabus. His phone buzzed with memes from his batchmates: “Bro, syllabus is the real horror movie.” He groaned, ran a hand through his unwashed hair, and stared at the thick book of electronics. The words danced in front of his eyes,…
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Aarushi Sen Rivalry on Maple Street There were only two things Maya Verma loved more than cinnamon rolls: winning and watching Theo Fernandes lose. Which is why Monday morning began exactly the way she liked it—with Theo storming out of his café across the street, scowling at a batch of sunken muffins while Maya casually sipped her soy cappuccino on the patio of Sugar & Sage, her quaint vegan café with mismatched chairs and hanging ferns. “Morning, Theo,” she called sweetly, stirring her coffee like it held all her smugness. Theo glared at her. “Your oven’s probably powered by smugness.”…
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Aisha Verma Rohan Mehta did not believe in fate. He believed in laundry schedules, strong coffee, and Bluetooth headphones with decent battery life. Apartment 3R—third floor, right—had been his solo kingdom for the past eleven months, ever since he moved into the ageing but oddly charming Amar Residency in Indiranagar. It wasn’t love at first lease, but it was quiet, close to the metro, and—most importantly—his mother had approved of the vastu. It was a Thursday morning, the kind where Bangalore pretends to be cold but isn’t really, when he noticed something odd. As he reached out to pin his…
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Avantika Deshpande Chapter 1: The Almond Milk Allegation “Sunitaaaa!” The shrillness of the voice pierced through three closed doors, one bathroom exhaust, and the sacred morning silence of the apartment. Sunita Bai didn’t flinch. She was elbow-deep in a stubborn sink full of greasy kadhi bowls. With the reflexes of someone who’d survived three decades of joint families and four generations of soap dramas, she calmly wiped her hands on her pallu and sauntered toward the battlefield—aka the living room. There, Mrs. Riya Mehta stood—yoga pants tighter than her tolerance, holding a carton of almond milk like it was a…