Anik Roy Chapter 1 – The Passenger List The call came just after midnight, when Delhi’s power grid seemed to hesitate in the humid air and the fan above Rhea Mukherjee’s desk spun on with a wheeze. She had been staring at the blinking cursor of a half-finished article, something forgettable about municipal corruption that her editor had already threatened to cut, when the unknown number appeared on her phone. The voice on the other end was muffled, unsteady, as though the caller was speaking from inside a tunnel. “You cover railways, don’t you?” the man asked. Rhea straightened in…
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Arjun Nair Part 1 – The Arrival The train screeched into Netarhat station just before dusk, scattering a few sleepy dogs off the tracks. Meera Joshi stepped down with her rucksack, adjusting her glasses against the thick blanket of humidity that clung to the air. She was thirty-two, a wildlife biologist with years of fieldwork behind her, yet this place carried a silence she had never felt before. The sal trees stretched in dark rows beyond the station, their shadows already deepening with the falling light, as if the forest had secrets it was unwilling to share with newcomers. A…
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Eira Sen Part 1: The Crackling The rain always came suddenly in her town, not like the timid drizzles that brushed over other places but like an argument with the sky itself. That evening, Tara was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her grandmother’s living room, tracing lines on her notebook when the storm struck. The shutters rattled, the lights flickered, and the smell of wet earth rushed in through the gaps under the door. Beside her, on the wooden cabinet that had been in the house longer than she had, stood the old Philips radio. Its red dial and…
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Arvind Kashyap Part 1 – The Case Begins The rain had been coming down on Kolkata for three days straight, the kind that didn’t wash the city clean but left it sticky and smelling of wet dust, fish, and petrol. Arjun Sen sat in his office above a shuttered sweet shop on Bentinck Street, nursing his fourth cup of watery tea and wondering whether he should pawn his old Nikon camera. Once, he had been the man behind front-page scoops, the journalist who broke the stories others were too scared to touch. Now he chased cheating husbands through dimly lit…
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Maya Kapoor The Key in the Notebook The day it happened was one of those sticky afternoons when the corridors of Crestwood High smelled faintly of chalk dust and disinfectant, and my hands were still ink-stained from the chemistry exam I had nearly failed. I remember because the bell had just rung, scattering students like restless birds, and I was still sitting in my seat, stuffing my calculator and a half-finished answer sheet into my bag, when something thin and metallic slipped from between the pages of my notebook and clinked against the floor. At first I thought it was…
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Amartya Basu Part 1: The First Message Kolkata was restless that night. The damp air of the city clung to the streets, wrapped in the hazy fog that seemed to linger long after the evening rains had passed. In the quiet alleys of South Kolkata, the hum of the traffic was replaced by the distant cry of a night bird and the flicker of streetlights casting long shadows. It was in one such alley, in the decrepit building of Pataldanga, where the first message was left. Detective Anirban Ghosh stood in the doorway of the apartment, his gaze fixed…