• Crime - English

    Shatranj Ke Khiladi 2.0

    Mayurakshi Sharma 1 The monsoon had painted Lucknow in sepia — wet alleys shimmering under rusted streetlights, the scent of damp earth clinging to the city’s bones. Zoya Rizvi sat on the floor of her small apartment in Hazratganj, hunched over a half-broken laptop and sipping over-steeped chai. The newsroom she once called home had shuttered six months ago; now, freelance gigs and occasional bylines were all she had to show for her stubborn honesty. She was finishing a piece on encroachment near the Gomti when her encrypted ProtonMail pinged. The subject line read simply: “1994. Truth rots slowly.” Attached…

  • Assamese

    নীল পেনৰ সাক্ষী

    হেমন্ত বৰা মৃতদেহ আৰু নীল দাগ সন্ধিয়া চাৰি বজাত ডঃ নীলিমা বেজবৰুৱাই শেষ ৰোগীৰ প্ৰিস্ক্ৰিপচনটো লিখি চকুত চশমাটো ওপৰলৈ ঠেলিলে। হস্পিটালৰ জানালিৰে পৰা আহি পৰা সোণালী ৰশ্মিয়ে তেওঁৰ কাষৰ টেবুলটো পাহি উঠাইছিল। বাহিৰত গুৱাহাটীৰ বতৰ শান্ত, কিন্তু ভিতৰত এটা কঠিন চক্ৰান্ত থলুৱা গৰ্ভত যেনে পাক খাই আছিল। ঠিক সেই সময়তে হস্পিটালৰ ইনটাৰকম বাজিল। “মেডিকেল ওয়ার্ড নম্বৰ ট্ৰি, ইমাৰজেঞ্চি!”। নীলিমাই পাছে টেবুলৰ ওপৰত থকা নীল পেনটো উঠাই তুলি ৰাখিলে, যেন অভ্যাসগতভাৱে, আৰু খটখটকৈ খোজ কঢ়িয়াই ওলাই গ’ল। ওয়ার্ড ট্ৰিত প্ৰৱেশ কৰাৰ লগে লগে দেখা পালেগৈ — এখন বেডত লোঠা হৈ পৰি থকা এজন পুৰুষ, প্ৰাণ নাথাকিলেও চকুত ভয় জমি আছিল। ডঃ…

  • English - Fiction

    The Fifth Protocol

    Neel Kashyap Part 1: The Minister Who Knew Too Much The monsoon had arrived early in New Delhi, but the rain did little to cool the simmering corridors of power. The South Block offices glistened under streetlights, guarded by protocol and paranoia. At 2:03 a.m., a white government Scorpio pulled into the back entrance of the Ministry of Parliamentary Affairs. Inside, Minister Prabir Kundu sat motionless, his lips taut and fingers trembling over a brown leather file embossed with the Ashoka emblem. He shouldn’t have had this file. But he did. Earlier that evening, Kundu had received an anonymous courier…

  • Crime - English

    Redial

    Part 1: The Dead Number Rehan Mehta’s phone buzzed once. Then again. Then it stopped. Half-asleep, he groaned and turned over in bed, pulling the blanket over his head. The digital clock on his desk blinked 2:13 AM in a harsh red glow. Whoever it was could wait. But then he saw the notification: 1 new voicemail from Unknown Number. He sat up. Unknown numbers weren’t unusual in his line of work — Rehan was an investigative journalist for The Daily Ledger. But voicemails at 2 AM? That was new. He plugged in his headphones and hit play. Static. Then…

  • English - Fiction

    Shadows of the State

    Ravi Srinivasan Part 1: The Letter and the Leak It started not with a murder, but with an envelope—sealed, unmarked, and slipped under the newsroom door of The Dakshara Daily on a monsoon-drenched morning. The building still smelled faintly of damp paper and printer ink when Ananya Raghavan picked it up. She was the first one in, as always, her raincoat dripping near her desk, the hiss of boiling water already building in the pantry behind her. She slit the envelope open with a metal ruler, her journalist’s instinct prickling even before the contents were revealed. Inside: a single typed…

  • Drama - English

    Headlines & Crossfire

    Aaryan Dastur The Breaking Point The newsroom of Global Pulse buzzed like a swarm of hornets, monitors flashing with real-time footage, phones ringing off their hooks, and the giant ticker on the far wall counting down the minutes to prime time. Rhea Sen stood at the heart of it all, arms folded, eyes fixed on the wall screen where rival network The Daily Eye was airing a bombshell report. Her jaw clenched slightly as Kabir Mathur’s voice boomed from the broadcast — sharp, confident, manipulative. “Sources inside the Ministry confirm that the leaked budget documents came directly from the Finance…