Purnendu Dey I The road to Jhargram was lined with towering sal and mahua trees, their shadows stretching long in the golden light of late afternoon as the car carrying Arjun and Priya turned towards the palace gates. For both of them, this was supposed to be a moment of pride, of fulfillment—choosing a venue that not only reflected heritage and grandeur but also marked the beginning of their married life in an unforgettable way. Priya, who had spent years documenting old forts and mansions as part of her conservation projects, was brimming with excitement, her eyes darting between the…
- 
				
 - 
				
Prakash Nayak 1 The train had rattled away hours ago, leaving Dr. Ananya Menon with only the crash of waves and the whisper of palms for company as she entered the fishing village that would become her temporary home. She had come armed with her instruments, notebooks, and the absolute conviction that science could measure everything worth knowing. Yet on her very first evening, as the sea winds thickened with the smell of brine and the restless stir of a storm brewing beyond the horizon, she noticed how the fishermen paused in their work, speaking in hushed tones as if…
 - 
				
Sampriti Bhattacharya 1 The train slid into Varanasi Junction under a pale winter sun, its light already filtered through a haze of incense smoke, dust, and the faint smell of the Ganga carried on the morning air. Arpita Sen stepped onto the platform, her leather satchel hanging heavily at her side, filled with notebooks, sketching pencils, and rolls of acid-free paper for documenting antique textiles. She had been commissioned by a heritage trust in Kolkata to research and archive rare Banarasi silk traditions, a project that felt as much like a pilgrimage as a professional assignment. Outside the station, the…
 - 
				
Niraj Kashyap 1 The road to Kohima was narrower than Dev Malhotra expected, its serpentine curves stitched into hills that breathed mist with every mile. His cab driver, a lean man named Lipok, didn’t speak much beyond gestures and short English bursts. The air grew thinner as they climbed, and pine forests swayed like silent sentinels watching their passage. Dev kept his DSLR beside him, ready to catch any atmospheric shot that could set the tone for his article. A seasoned investigative journalist, he’d covered riots, cults, and graveyard confessions in Bundelkhand—but this was different. Stories of a phantom priest…
 - 
				
Leena Rao Chapter 1: The Moonlit Arrival Viraj Saxena’s camera bag felt heavier than usual as he made his way down the dusty path that led to the riverbank. The sun had just set, casting an amber hue over the rugged landscape of Bhedaghat, a small town nestled by the Narmada River, near Jabalpur. Known for its towering white marble cliffs and the famous Dhuandhar Waterfall, Bhedaghat was a photographer’s dream. But Viraj had come here with a different purpose. He was after something deeper—something otherworldly. He had heard about the moonlit beauty of the marble rocks, a sight that…
 - 
				
Niranjan Pathak Nina Kapoor’s heart raced as the dusty roads of Rajasthan stretched endlessly before her, each turn taking her deeper into the forgotten heart of the desert. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the desolate landscape, turning the world into a haze of orange and pink. Nina, a young historian from Delhi, had come here with a single purpose: to investigate the ancient ruins of the Shivani Mata Temple, a place shrouded in mystery and steeped in legend. The village she arrived in, Kundalpur, was a relic of a bygone era. It lay at the edge…
 - 
				
Amit Joshi Chapter 1: The Legend Ravi, a historian with a passion for uncovering forgotten histories, sat in his cluttered study, surrounded by piles of old manuscripts, faded maps, and ancient scrolls. His eyes glimmered with excitement as he uncovered a fragment of a long-forgotten legend, buried deep within the annals of history. It spoke of a village, lost to time, hidden in the rugged hills of Himachal Pradesh. The village, once home to a thriving community, was cursed and abandoned after a series of unexplained deaths and disappearances over a century ago. According to the legend, the villagers had…
 - 
				
Vikram Patil 1 David stepped off the bus into the crisp, mountain air of Pelling, a small town nestled in the Sikkim Himalayas. The journey from Delhi had been long, but as the sun set behind the towering Kanchenjunga range, the sight before him made the weariness fade away. The town, draped in mist, seemed almost ethereal, its narrow streets lined with small shops selling colorful fabrics and local handicrafts. The houses here were built from stone and wood, their sloped roofs covered in vibrant moss. It was a world far removed from the chaos of his life back in…
 - 
				
Tarun Roy Chowdhury 1 Priyajit Sen always felt something breathing beneath the skin of Kolkata—a slow, unseen pulse carried by the rusted tramlines, the cracked facades of colonial buildings, and the tangled mess of alleyways where stories clung like moss on old bricks. At sixteen, he had grown used to slipping away after school, sketchbook in hand, to wander the city’s hidden veins. It was on one such humid afternoon, when the smell of wet books and tea leaves hung thick over College Street, that he stepped into a dusty secondhand bookstore tucked between a tea stall and a shuttered…
 - 
				
Chapter 1: Arrival at the Ghat Tarak Nath Tripathi stepped off the rickety auto-rickshaw with his backpack slung over one shoulder and his thesis notes clutched tightly in a cracked leather folder. The heat clung to his skin like a second garment, thick with smoke and the smell of burning sandalwood, flesh, and Ganges water. He stood at the edge of the Manikarnika Ghat, watching the sacred river flow as if it had no memory of the centuries it carried. Bodies wrapped in saffron cloth were being carried down the steps by chanting pallbearers, while others burned on pyres whose…