The song slipped into her before she recognised it. It was just a line at first—low, honey-warm, almost careless—floating out of the dim, half-forgotten café as Radhika walked past. She stopped mid-step, her breath catching in a way that felt both unfamiliar and deeply known. The world around her—the narrow street, the passing scooters, theContinue reading “Tupelo Honey”
Tag Archives: short story
Love, Returns
The first thing people noticed about Arjun was his hair—salt and pepper far too early for thirty-seven—but it only made his boyish face more disarming. When he smiled, his eyes caught light like glass wind chimes, bright and restless, as if youth had refused to leave him entirely. Mitali used to tease him about it,Continue reading “Love, Returns”
Two of Us
Kolkata always knew how to keep secrets. It hid them in the rustle of old trees on Southern Avenue, in the lingering smell of rain on tram tracks, in the way the Hooghly held reflections just a second longer than it should. And sometimes, it tucked them quietly between two people who made no senseContinue reading “Two of Us”
Things We Said Today
The first time it rained that year, Kolkata didn’t ask permission. It came down in a soft, silver rush over College Street, blurring bookstalls and tram lines, turning the air into something that smelled like wet paper and old stories. Arijit stood beneath a half-broken blue tarpaulin, holding two earthen cups of chai, waiting. RituparnaContinue reading “Things We Said Today”
The Sudden Disappearance of Arjun Basu
I. The Man Who Didn’t Fit On most evenings, Arjun Basu stood by the narrow balcony of his third-floor apartment in Ballygunge, watching the city slip into its neon-lit restlessness. Kolkata never really slept—it simmered. Honking cars, distant tram bells, late-night tea stalls, laughter rising from nowhere and dissolving just as quickly. At forty-six, ArjunContinue reading “The Sudden Disappearance of Arjun Basu”
Nameless Skies
The voice was familiar. Warm like winter sun on old skin. It came from a low-lit room in a small, sleepy town called Rewa, where time didn’t move. It sighed. Aman lived there. Fifty-four. Unmarried. Untroubled by it in public, disturbed by it in the shadows of his heart. He had grown to accept solitudeContinue reading “Nameless Skies”
The Space Between
In a city where the sea whispered secrets to stones and local trains hummed like restless dreams, lived two strangers—bound not by fate, but by a series of delicate, echoing coincidences. Nikhil woke every morning at exactly 6:47 a.m.—not because his phone buzzed, but because a koel sang outside his window with stubborn punctuality. AcrossContinue reading “The Space Between”
The Second Crime
Marine Drive never sleeps, but that night, it fell silent. A black BMW X7 stood by the promenade, door ajar, rain pouring like judgment from the heavens. The corpse of Vinod Pawar, Aditya Khanna’s driver, slumped in the front seat with a bullet lodged in his temple. Rain blurred the blood but couldn’t wash awayContinue reading “The Second Crime”
Window Seat (…because sometimes the journey is the destination)
The train platform in Delhi was its usual orchestra of chaos—hawkers shouting, tannoys stuttering names of distant cities, the metallic clang of wheels, the stink of hot food and warm metal. Nikhil walked through it like a man out of time, unbothered. A duffel bag hung from one shoulder, its strap slipping slightly with everyContinue reading “Window Seat (…because sometimes the journey is the destination)”
Monsoon Highway
When Nikhil Arora lost his job at the advertising agency in Lower Parel, the monsoon had just started to scream across Bombay like a woman scorned. He didn’t even take the elevator down from the 15th floor. Just left his resignation letter and a half-drunk cutting chai on his desk and walked into the rainContinue reading “Monsoon Highway”
Words are flowing out... 