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आरव सक्सेना भाग 1 : भीड़ के बीच पहली नज़र पुरानी दिल्ली का दिल है चाँदनी चौक। यहाँ की गलियाँ इतनी तंग हैं कि दो साइकिलें साथ निकलें तो लगता है जैसे दीवारें कानाफूसी कर रही हों। सुबह का वक़्त था। सूरज की सुनहरी रोशनी लाल क़िले की बुर्ज़ों से उतरकर हौज़ क़ाज़ी की तरफ़ फैल रही थी। दुकानों के शटर धीरे-धीरे उठ रहे थे, पर गलियाँ पहले ही ज़िंदा हो चुकी थीं। मिठाईवालों के यहाँ से ताज़े जलेबी की महक, चायवालों की केतली से उठती भाप और रिक्शों की घंटियों की आवाज़ मिलकर एक अलग ही संगीत बना रही…
Debasish Guha Chapter 1: The Cracked Clay The scent of wet earth and incense filled the narrow lanes of Kumartuli as the morning sun filtered through bamboo scaffolding and half-finished goddesses. It was five days before Mahalaya, and the air in Kolkata shimmered with anticipation. The idol-makers worked tirelessly, smearing layers of straw and clay onto skeletal bamboo frames, coaxing divine forms into being. But something had gone terribly wrong at Workshop No. 14. Apprentice boys stood frozen outside, whispering in hushed tones as their trembling eyes stayed locked on the massive figure of a half-finished Durga. The goddess’s eyes,…
नवनीत विश्वास 1 हर सुबह जैसे मुंबई जागती है – गाड़ियों की आवाज़, लोकल ट्रेनों की घरघराहट, और भीड़ के कोलाहल में – उसी के साथ एक और दुनिया भी आँखें खोलती है: डब्बावालों की दुनिया। ये वो लोग हैं जो रोज़ लाखों लोगों के घर का खाना, सैकड़ों किलोमीटर दूर, बिना एक गलती के, समय पर पहुँचा देते हैं। नाथा पाटील, लगभग साठ साल के बुज़ुर्ग डब्बावाले, इस दुनिया के एक अनुभवी सिपाही हैं। सफेद नेहरू टोपी, हल्की झुर्रियों वाली मुस्कान, और आँखों में वर्षों का अनुभव। सुबह चार बजे उनकी नींद खुलती है, जैसे शरीर में कोई अलार्म…
Rimi Bhasthi Part 1: The Silence in the Hallway It was always the hallway where she first heard herself disappear. The long, echoing corridor of the Sharma household carried more than footsteps and scoldings—it carried absence. Asha, seventeen, was the kind of girl people described in passing as “quiet but clever,” the kind whose achievements were applauded just enough to not feel threatening. She had learned early that noise—especially from girls—was suspicious. The house had three women and five men, and even the walls seemed to know who mattered. Her mother, Meenakshi, moved like a shadow behind her husband, wiping…
Ravi Venkatesh Part 1: The Open Mic War Begins In the buzzing alleys of Bangalore, where biryani is a second religion and tech startups bloom faster than rain-soaked mushrooms, something curious had taken root—stand-up poetry. Not quite comedy, not quite theatre, and certainly not for the faint of vocabulary. By 2025, it had morphed into a strange new beast. Think Netflix drama meets spoken word, with a dash of ego and cappuccino foam. Two open mic venues had risen to cult status—Café Metaphor in Indiranagar, and Rhyme & Roast in Koramangala. Each claimed poetic supremacy. Their Instagram reels were savage.…
Siddharth Bhattacharjee Part 1 Monday mornings had a peculiar smell at Dalal Street—part anxiety, part ambition, and a solid dose of stale filter coffee. For Rudra Sen, senior broker at Kothari & Sons Securities (no Kothari worked there anymore), it also smelled like danger. Not because of the stock market, but because his ancient laptop, nicknamed “Laxmi”, had a tendency to start only on alternate days. Today, unfortunately, was not one of them. Rudra’s day began, as always, with a lecture from his boss, a man with a moustache thick enough to have its own Aadhaar card. “Sen, Sensex is…