ঋত্বিক গাঙ্গুলি পর্ব ১ : অচেনা শহর স্টেশনের প্ল্যাটফর্মে দাঁড়িয়ে থাকা মানুষগুলো একে একে ট্রেনে উঠছে। ভোরের অন্ধকার তখনও কেটে যায়নি, দূরের আকাশে একটা অর্ধচন্দ্র ম্লান আলো ছড়াচ্ছে। শহরের নাম—চন্দ্রপুর। বেশ বড় নয়, আবার একেবারেই ছোটও নয়। মফস্বল আর শহুরে জীবনের মাঝামাঝি এক টানটান অবস্থান। এ শহরে হঠাৎ এসেছিল অর্ণব দত্ত—চোখে কালো চশমা, পরনে জিন্স আর ফেডেড জ্যাকেট। লম্বা, চওড়া কাঁধ, হাঁটার ভঙ্গিতে সেনা-শৃঙ্খলার আভাস। সে ছিল একসময় আর্মির মিলিটারি পুলিশ। এখন ঘুরে বেড়ানোই তার কাজ। কোথাও গন্তব্য নেই, কোথাও থাকার বাধ্যবাধকতা নেই। চন্দ্রপুরে নামার সিদ্ধান্তটা ছিল সম্পূর্ণ হঠাৎ। ট্রেনটা থামলো, আর সে নেমে গেল। চারপাশের মানুষরা তার দিকে তাকালো,…
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Aarav Mehta At 02:17 a.m., my phone rang with the same number that had stopped calling me eight years ago, a ghost of ten digits branded into the inside of my skull, and by the second ring my ribs felt like a locked drawer someone was rummaging through; I swiped, whispered “hello,” and heard only the soft clicking of a line held slightly open, air carrying the distant hum of traffic and a faint three-note whistle that I recognized from a forgotten Kolkata monsoon when an informant named R—had told me you could train a bird to return home but…
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Arjun Mehra he Shadow Broadcast By Arjun Mehra Part 1 – The Leak Rain glazed the pavements of London in a silver film that distorted neon into restless pools of color. At three in the morning, the newsroom of the Daily Standard lay deserted except for Eleanor Hart, who hunched over her terminal with the exhausted determination of someone unwilling to surrender to sleep. She had been chasing a dead lead on parliamentary lobbying, convinced that hidden money had been funneling itself into the corridors of Westminster. But the screen in front of her no longer displayed budget spreadsheets or…
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Niharika S. Rao The Lok Sabha was unusually loud for a Tuesday. It was Budget Week, and the chamber buzzed with tension as news channels lined up outside, their OB vans broadcasting red-tickered hysteria. Inside, Home Minister Veer Pratap Singh stood tall in a beige Nehru jacket, sleeves rolled to the elbows like a man ready for war. His voice thundered across the hall, echoing with the force of someone who had weathered revolutions and riots. “And let it be known,” he declared, slamming his hand on the podium, “this government will never bow to blackmail. The truth will be…
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Meher Aftab Part 1: The Flag That Doesn’t Wave The sun hung over the capital city of Ruvana like a bloated wound, casting a hazy orange over the skyline of glass ministries and concrete ghosts. Somewhere between the Parliament dome and the military cantonment, truth had gone missing. And Naveen Rahatkar, senior political correspondent for The Varshana Ledger, was beginning to smell its corpse. He sat in the pressroom of the Central Secretariat, watching the white-and-saffron flag of the Republic of Varshana flutter on the giant LED screen. Outside, the real flag was limp, unmoving despite the breeze. Symbolic, he…
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Talia Verma Part 1: The Signal Beneath the Code Riya D’Souza had spent the last thirty-six hours in the analytics lab of Delphatech Systems with nothing but a lukewarm soy latte and a dozen lines of untraceable code for company. She blinked at the double-screen setup in front of her, the left monitor displaying her algorithm’s output logs, the right one scrolling endless rows of encrypted global banking transactions. Her job wasn’t supposed to be this intense. Data mining for anomalies was mundane, tedious—until it wasn’t. It had started with a flicker. A pattern buried deep within the monetary flow…
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Neel Kashyap Part 1: The Minister Who Knew Too Much The monsoon had arrived early in New Delhi, but the rain did little to cool the simmering corridors of power. The South Block offices glistened under streetlights, guarded by protocol and paranoia. At 2:03 a.m., a white government Scorpio pulled into the back entrance of the Ministry of Parliamentary Affairs. Inside, Minister Prabir Kundu sat motionless, his lips taut and fingers trembling over a brown leather file embossed with the Ashoka emblem. He shouldn’t have had this file. But he did. Earlier that evening, Kundu had received an anonymous courier…
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Ashmita Khan Part 1: The Debate The air-conditioning inside the NDTV studio was just enough to keep nerves hidden under silk and suit fabric. Aarushi Singh adjusted the collar of her rust-red handloom kurta, her fingers lightly grazing the gold brooch that bore her father’s party symbol—two clasped hands in a rising sun. It wasn’t just decoration. It was legacy. Across from her sat Ishaan Rizvi, crisp in a blue blazer, his notes neatly stacked, untouched. He didn’t need them. He never did. His reputation as the Opposition’s silent strategist had made him a reluctant star of the night’s “Youth…
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Maya Sharma Part 1: The Last Rally in Pink The rain had stopped just minutes before the rally began. A pink haze lingered over the Kolkata skyline, smeared with leftover monsoon clouds and political slogans painted hastily across aging walls. Shanti Ghosh, dressed in her signature pink Banarasi saree with gold-threaded lotus motifs, stood on the makeshift bamboo stage at the heart of Ward 34. Her voice, usually mellow and diplomatic, now sliced through the damp air like a blade. “We are not just mothers and wives,” she said, her voice echoing across the crowd, “we are builders, protectors, and…
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विनय प्रताप सिंह भाग 1 लखनऊ की वह रात सर्द नहीं थी, लेकिन शहर के सियासी गलियारों में एक अजीब ठंडक फैल चुकी थी। विधानसभा के बाहर अचानक बिजली चली गई। पूरे परिसर में अंधेरा छा गया, जैसे किसी ने जानबूझकर समय को रोक दिया हो। मुख्यमंत्री यशवर्धन त्रिपाठी की कार का काफिला ज़रा देर के लिए ठिठका, फिर सुरक्षा की तैनाती दोगुनी कर दी गई। मुख्यमंत्री का चेहरा भावहीन था, पर उनके माथे पर पहली बार चिंता की महीन लकीरें उभरी थीं। उसी समय सचिवालय की चौथी मंज़िल से एक छोटी सी फाइल ग़ायब हो गई। उसका नाम था—ऑपरेशन…