She drifted between agony and dream, her lost voice echoing through iridescent waters as love blurred into myth.
As Ananya basked in praise, Meera clutched the memory of Ajji’s tale, aching with a hurt she couldn’t reveal.
Snow, silence, and duty converge as Daru faces a moral crossroads on the lonely Algerian plateau in Albert Camus’s *The Guest*.
Amid ruins of war, a mother and soldier confront loss, finding hope in a child’s crayon-marked declaration: “This our home.”
A Nepali boy in Japan navigates hidden identity and uncertain future, capturing a quiet diaspora of migration and resilience.
Aunt Veda’s silver saree shimmered as she danced, whiskey in hand, while I hid behind my book, quietly watching. Writes Ishani Chowdhury...
This city has become an inferno. Name a place where we are safe. Can you?
What is hope amidst struggle? Marzia’s story looks at this bartering of hope in a big city.
In this second part, we glance at Deepti’s resilience in keeping her dreams alive in a hostile familial environment.
Perhaps only a God-man could explicate who this land belonged to.
A city like Hyderabad was not as small as our hamlet. Within the city and its outskirts, many things happened to which we were strangers.
Glancing out of the hut Kusum noted that the yellow blossoms on the ridgegourd creeper were slowly opening their petals in the reddish evening light.
The day after Mary Cheriyan’s funeral, her family, relatives, and friends congregated in the sombre atmosphere of her home’s drawing room.
Another night. Eyes squeezed shut, feigning sleep. The familiar creak of the doorknob, a melody in the silence.
