• Crime - English

    Shadows in the Ledger

    September 9, 2025 - By 

    Arjun Malhotra Part 1: The Body at Dalhousie Square The night had a stillness only Calcutta knew—humid, damp, and swollen with the weight of secrets. The yellow streetlamps around Dalhousie Square flickered, their cones of light glistening against cobblestones darkened by last evening’s rain. At precisely 2:17 a.m., the silence cracked: a night watchman’s whistle trailed off into a hoarse scream. By the time Sub-Inspector Rohan Mukherjee arrived, the scene was already swarming. A man lay face-down near the fountain, the back of his linen shirt soaked in blood. His right hand clutched a black leather briefcase, its lock broken…

  • Crime - English

    Blood on the Balance Sheet

    September 9, 2025 - By 

    Rohan Sen Part 1 – The First Murder The night air in Mumbai carried its usual cocktail of sea salt, petrol fumes, and exhaustion. By the time Inspector Kabir Mehta arrived at the narrow lane in Fort, the neon lights had gone dim, the hawkers had packed their stalls, and the crowd had gathered in that restless half-circle that only death could command. The constable waved him in, parting the murmuring mass of onlookers. Kabir ducked under the yellow police tape, his eyes falling instantly on the sprawled figure inside the glass-fronted office. A man in his mid-forties, shirt stained…

  • Crime - English

    The Poisoned Monsoon

    September 7, 2025 - By 

    Divya Srivatsav 1 The storm had been brewing all evening, and by the time the call came in, the skies over Mumbai had split open, unleashing a torrent that turned streets into rivers and the sea into a boiling monster that battered the shoreline. Ananya Sen arrived at Juhu’s elite neighborhood drenched but unflinching, her notebook and recorder protected under a plastic folder she carried everywhere during monsoon assignments. The bungalow, looming against the furious waves, stood like a stubborn relic, its sea-facing verandah lit by dim yellow lamps that flickered each time lightning ripped across the sky. Crowds of…

  • Crime - English

    The Whispering Knife

    September 2, 2025 - By 

    Damien Arora Episode 1 – The First Cut The rain had begun an hour before midnight, a thin drizzle that turned the streets into black rivers of glass. In the corner of the old bazaar, where the neon of a dying sign stuttered over broken tiles, a man leaned against the wall as if sleep had claimed him standing. To the drunkards stumbling home from the late bar, he looked like just another lost figure in the city’s night. It was only when the streetlight caught the crimson pooling beneath his shoes that anyone realized he would never move again.…

  • Crime - English

    The Kolkata By-Lane Killer

    September 1, 2025 - By 

    1 The mist rolled in heavy that night over Shobhabazar, clinging to the crumbling walls of century-old houses and hanging like a curtain in the narrow lanes where time seemed frozen. It was here, in the heart of North Kolkata’s labyrinth, that the silence was broken by the shrill cry of a milk vendor who stumbled upon the body. Bimal “Banker” Ghosh, a man known in whispers as both a petty moneylender and a sly informant of his younger years, lay sprawled in the mud, his throat slit with chilling precision. The flickering glow of a dim streetlamp caught the…

  • English - Suspense

    The Crimson Guest

    August 25, 2025 - By 

    Eleanor Hayes The Arrival The rain had been falling over St. Aldwyn’s for two days without pause, a relentless curtain of silver that blurred the hedgerows and emptied the cobbled streets of its usual chatter. Nestled in the heart of the town was the Blackthorn Inn, a Tudor-fronted building whose dark beams sagged with age, whose windows glowed like watchful eyes in the storm. On that particular evening, a carriage stopped at its door—a rare sight, for few visitors chose to travel in such weather. From within stepped a tall man in a deep maroon coat, his boots striking sharp…

  • Hindi - क्राइम कहानियाँ

    खून का सौदा

    August 21, 2025 - By 

    राहुल देव मुंबई की बारिश अक्सर शहर को धो देती थी, पर उस रात की बारिश ने मानो अपराध की गंध को और गाढ़ा कर दिया था। लोअर परेल की एक संकरी गली में पीली बत्तियों के नीचे पानी चमक रहा था। उसी अंधेरे में एक आदमी दौड़ रहा था—काले रेनकोट में, हाथ में किसी पुराने अखबार में लिपटा पैकेट। पीछे से पुलिस सायरन की आवाजें गूंज रही थीं। वह आदमी हर मोड़ पर पीछे मुड़कर देख रहा था, जैसे कोई अदृश्य शिकारी उसका पीछा कर रहा हो। कुछ ही देर बाद वह एक जर्जर इमारत के भीतर घुसा। सीढ़ियों…

  • English - Suspense

    The Vanishing Ledger

    August 21, 2025 - By 

    Arjun Malhotra  The Broken Lock The house stood at the far end of Chitpur Road like a stubborn relic, refusing to collapse even as the rest of north Kolkata modernized and decayed in equal measure. Its high arched windows were shattered, its stucco walls streaked with moss, and weeds sprouted in wild abandon from the cracks in its courtyard. The demolition crew had arrived at dawn with their rust-colored machines, but Rohan had been there before them, notebook in hand, his camera dangling from his neck, watching as the first hammer struck the gates of the house. Freelance assignments were…

  • Crime - English - Suspense

    Ganges Murders

    August 21, 2025 - By 

    Sudarshan Tripathi 1 The first light of dawn spread over Varanasi, turning the Ganges into a molten ribbon of gold and crimson. Dashashwamedh Ghat was just waking—priests arranging lamps for the day’s rituals, pilgrims dipping themselves into the sacred waters, and vendors setting up their stalls along the steps. The city breathed a timeless rhythm, as if each sunrise repeated the same prayer uttered for thousands of years. But on this particular morning, the serenity of the river was broken by a shrill cry from a boatman. His small wooden boat bobbed unevenly as he leaned over the edge, staring…

  • Crime - English

    The Silk Bazaar Murders

    August 10, 2025 - By 

    Meher Afroz One The night in Chowk bazaar was unusually still, the usual sounds of late-night chai vendors and distant azaan fading into an uneasy silence. Narrow lanes twisted between century-old havelis, their carved wooden balconies casting long shadows under flickering streetlamps. The warm smell of cardamom and fried samosas lingered faintly, but in one particular lane, the air was heavy with something else — dread. At the far end stood Rashid Ali’s loom house, a modest workshop known among weavers for its perfection in the rare “shadow work” chikankari stitch. Tonight, however, the place seemed frozen in time, the…