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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…
Shalini Deshmukh 1 The streets of Goa were a riot of color, music, and laughter. It was the height of Carnival, and the city was alive with exuberance. Masked revelers danced through the streets, their faces hidden behind glittering masks, their costumes a kaleidoscope of feathers, beads, and sequins. The scent of street food filled the air, mixing with the faint, salty breeze from the sea. Goa, known for its beaches and laid-back charm, had a different pulse during Carnival—a pulse that beat with frenetic energy and reckless abandon. To most, it was a time of celebration, of letting go…
Vikram Rathore Part 1: The Inheritance The sun was beginning to set behind the rugged peaks of the Aravalli Range, casting long shadows over the winding roads that led to Kumbhalgarh Fort. Anirudh Deshmukh, a young archaeologist from Delhi, gazed out the window of his car as it meandered through the narrow, serpentine paths that led him to the fort. He had heard much about the place—the towering walls, the haunting beauty of the fort, and the endless stories of its troubled past. But he never imagined that it would be his own inheritance that would bring him here. It…
Anirban Guha 1 Detective Rishi Das stood at the edge of the Howrah Bridge, watching the river churn beneath him, his eyes unblinking despite the chill of the early morning air. The city was alive around him, the sounds of honking horns and distant voices mingling with the smell of freshly fried kachori from a street vendor. But Rishi was no longer part of the city’s pulse; he was detached, his mind consumed by the case at hand. Rajat Sanyal, the prominent businessman whose car had been found abandoned at this very spot, had vanished without a trace. There were…
Aisha Verma Part 1 The first time Neil saw Siya, she was hurling a half-eaten vada pav at a man twice her size in front of Andheri Station. It hit the man square in the chest, splattering red chutney like a bloodstain on his white shirt. A crowd had gathered, of course. Cameras were out. Someone was live-streaming. Neil had been passing by, DSLR in hand, mind elsewhere, when the chaos sucked him in like Mumbai traffic at peak hour. “Don’t touch me!” Siya yelled, her voice sharp as a glass shard. The man, red-faced, lunged at her, but Neil…
श्रुति चौहान भाग 1: चेहरा जो पहचाना सा था “नेहा, अगला क्लाइंट आया है,” रिया की असिस्टेंट ने धीरे से कहा। नेहा माथे पर हल्की लटों को पीछे सरकाते हुए ब्रश को मेज पर रखा। बड़ी स्क्रीन पर चेहरा फोकस करते-করते वो थक चुकी थी, लेकिन हर दिन की तरह, आज भी मेकअप उसका ध्यान बँटा देता था। वो चेहरे पढ़ सकती थी—रंग, बनावट, और सबसे अहम—उनमें छुपे भाव। “नाम?” नेहा ने पूछा। “सिया,” असिस्टेंट बोली। नाम सुनते ही उसके हाथ की मसल हल्का सा कांप गई। उसने अनदेखा किया। सिया—कितना आम सा नाम है। लेकिन क्या हर आम नाम…
Vishal Suri 1 The fluorescent light buzzed overhead as Arjun paced the narrow living room of their two-bedroom rented flat in Indiranagar, Bangalore. His glasses were fogged from the steam of the masala chai in his hand, and the laptop screen on the table blinked with the latest rejection email from a potential investor. Rajeev, sitting cross-legged on the floor, tapped furiously at his keyboard, immersed in code. He hadn’t spoken for an hour. Kabir lay stretched across the worn-out sofa, eyes fixed on the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him. No one wanted to say it, but the silence…
राहुल शुक्ला भाग 1: धारावी का नया राजा धारावी की तंग गलियाँ उस रात कुछ ज्यादा ही चुप थीं। हवा में बारूद की गंध घुली थी और पुलिस की सायरन की आवाज़ दूर से गूंज रही थी। साया — मुम्बई अंडरवर्ल्ड का एक नाम, जिसे सुनते ही लोगों के चेहरे पर पसीना छलक आता था — आज रात एक और खून के बाद माफिया की गद्दी पर पूरी तरह बैठ चुका था। साया का असली नाम था रईस अली, लेकिन अब उसे कोई इस नाम से नहीं जानता। वो गुमनाम रहना चाहता था, पर उसकी कहानियाँ हर नुक्कड़-चाय की दुकान…
Rishi Kulkarni Monday Mourning The Monday morning at Chai & Chat Media Pvt. Ltd., a mid-sized marketing agency in the heart of Koramangala, Bengaluru, began like any other—late. The office, located on the third floor of a building with exactly one working lift (which frequently stopped at every floor uninvited), had a culture of “flexible timing”—which really meant “come in before lunch, if possible.” By 10:47 AM, only four people had arrived: Sonal had her headphones on and was busy typing ferociously, probably fighting with a vendor over Google Sheets. Tapan was slouched over his MacBook, staring at an empty…