• English - Young Adult

    When We Danced That Summer

    July 14, 2025 - By 

    Ira Mehrotra The Town That Smelled of Salt and Silence The train screeched to a stop like it wasn’t ready to let go of Rihan Bose. He stepped down onto the sun-bleached platform of Kavar, a small town that clung to the southern coastline like a secret. The salty wind stung his skin, and gulls screamed overhead as if announcing his arrival. Not that anyone was listening. It was the kind of town where nothing ever really happened. And that was precisely the point. Aunty Kamala, his grandmother’s housekeeper, was the only one waiting. She waved half-heartedly, holding a paper…

  • Hindi - प्रेम कहानियाँ

    तेरे नाम की एक शाम

    July 8, 2025 - By 

    समीरा खान पहला भाग: वो शाम कुछ अलग थी दिल्ली की शामों में एक अजीब सी बात होती है। भीड़भाड़, ट्रैफिक, और गाड़ियों के हॉर्न के शोर के बीच भी कभी-कभी एक ऐसी ख़ामोशी उतरती है जो सीधे दिल तक पहुँचती है। ऐसा लगता है जैसे शहर थम सा गया हो, बस एक धीमा संगीत बचा हो – सड़क पर चलते लोगों के कदमों की थाप, कॉफी शॉप से आती भुनी हुई बीन्स की ख़ुशबू, और हवा में घुली एक अनकही बेचैनी। उस शाम भी कुछ ऐसा ही था – सिर्फ़ थोड़ा और खास। मैं, आरव मलिक, एक साधारण सा…

  • English - Romance

    Somewhere Between Raindrops

    July 6, 2025 - By 

    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…

  • English - Romance

    Raindrops by the River

    June 19, 2025 - By 

    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…