• English - Fiction

    The Indian Valley

    G. Somasundaraman Episode 1 – The Spark The small café on College Street smelled of wet books and old coffee, a place where poets once argued about revolution and students rehearsed their lives in whispers. It was here, under a flickering ceiling fan and between chipped wooden tables, that four friends first whispered the idea that would change everything. Arjun tapped his cracked Lenovo laptop with a kind of nervous pride, showing the others the terminal lines rolling across the screen. Beside him, Meera adjusted her glasses, her fingers already scrolling through documentation she had half-memorized. Rakesh leaned back, cocky…

  • Assamese

    ধূলিৰ পথৰ মানুহ

    অৰ্ণব মহন্ত পৰ্ব ১: গাঁওখনৰ প্ৰথম পলক সূৰ্যোদয়ৰ লগে লগে গুৱাহাটী চহৰৰ উপকণ্ঠত থকা দিহিং চাহ-বাগিচাৰ গাঁওখনে নতুন দিনৰ আভাস পাইছিল। ৰাতিপুৱাৰ শিশিৰে ভিজা ঘাসবোৰত ধুপধুপীয়া পোহৰৰ বিন্দুবোৰ লটকাই ৰখা যেন দিশে দিশে সৰু সৰু দীপশিখা। গাঁওখনৰ মাটিৰ পথত হেঁপাহী গাঁওবুঢ়া মানুহজনী কণ্ঠত ভজন গাই গৈছিল—সেই সুৰে পাখীবোৰৰ কলগীত মিলি এক অদ্ভুত সুৰভিত সময় গঢ়ি তুলিছিল। চাহ-বাগিচাৰ শ্রমিকসকলে দুহাতত বাঁকা কাঁচি লৈ দল বেঁধি গৈছিল। কিয়নো সূৰ্য উঠি উঠি পাহাৰখনৰ আঁচলত ঢলি পৰাৰ আগতেই তেওঁলোকক কাজিয়া আৰম্ভ কৰিব লাগিব। ধোঁৱায় ভৰা মাটিৰ চাহপাতবোৰ কেটে কেটে দলনি ভৰাই, তাতেই তেওঁলোকৰ দিনৰ ভাতৰ উপাৰ্জন। সেই লোকসকলৰ মাজত বহুতো সন্তান পঢ়িবলৈ পায়নেহি। গাঁওখনৰ…

  • Crime - English

    Raktarekha

    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…

  • English - Fiction

    THE RED CORRIDOR

    Mohit Bansal The Death in Dhaulpur The bullet tore through the morning stillness like a scream no one wanted to hear. It was just past 8 a.m. in Dhaulpur, a dusty town carved out of the political belly of eastern Uttar Pradesh. Outside the town hall, Ramveer Bharti was standing atop a makeshift podium, his kurta slightly wrinkled, voice echoing over loudspeakers that had seen too many rallies. A crowd had gathered—farmers in faded dhotis, students with angry eyes, a few women clutching cloth bags, and some just there for the free tea. But they listened. Because when Ramveer spoke,…