A knock on the door with a familiar voice calling out. Suddenly all the surrounding sounds drowned out, making the heartbeat get seemingly louder. It always begins with a knock. A knock followed by the harsh sound of a door slamming against the wall. A man enters and pads through the one-room like a monster on the prowl, eyes bloodshot with the drink. He corners the trembling child. His movements are slow and deliberate, like a seasoned actor theatrically pulling out a well-worn brown leather belt. He holds it by the end, the golden buckle swinging in the air threateningly, and starts curling it around his fist. The shiny metal of the buckle reflects in his squinty eyes. He snaps it in the air, the sharp sound echoing in the small room, looking at and savouring the fear emanating from the child. More than the red welts shining on the skin, this is what he loves and feeds on - the palpable fear, the shining tears, the dead look in the eyes, the resigned acceptance of her lot in life. He hits the child where it hurts the most - over the wounds of yesterday and the day before, over the cigarette burns and the fading bruises.

Earlier today, as my mom dropped me off at my music class, I felt different. I couldn’t hear the air, but I could feel it and hear the honks of vehicles. I could smell children screaming with joy on the side of the road. In the past few days, I’ve nearly recovered. All my senses except the hearing seem to be working well. Maybe that was what my music teacher was talking about; the feeling of not being able to accomplish anything on my own has gone away. Feeling independent feels great, again. Tragedy I lost my hearing sense following the incident. When the festival season arrived, we started lighting crackers. Massive fires raged all over the place. An enormous cracker misfired and exploded massively just next to me. Chaos reigned all around. As soon as I saw everyone was okay, I was unable to hear anything. My eardrums burst when I heard the gigantic noise. I was bleeding as I checked. I lost consciousness, and I fell to the ground quite unconsciously. The last thing I saw before collapsing was my parents running towards me. I had no idea what was happening. I distinctly remember getting into that ambulance, later lying on a stretcher in a hospital lobby. Then, all of a sudden, I was completely disoriented. ​ My dizziness arose several days after my surgery and operation, and everyone was gesturing and showing signs to me. I thought they were crazy until I saw my parents. They were doing the same thing as everyone else. My ears did not work. All I could hear was tinnitus and a few buzzing noises. Suddenly, I realised that I could not hear any sound. Tears started falling as I realised I could not hear anything. My head started hurting, and I was depressed. A part of me was screaming, “Why is it always me? Why do I always have to give up on my dreams?” Even machines were no good. I couldn’t even listen to what I was saying. I was very sad and down. I didn’t know what had happened to me. I didn’t know how to cope.

Resting on the stairs that led to Ganga, Richa recalled how their chest numbers were called. Looking at the unending flow, Richa thought, “Now that you have done what you thought wouldn’t have been possible, do you have the strength to live with it?” Listening to the water as the sunset, Richa told herself, “You should have told them the moment you lost your passion but you wanted to keep them happy…” Coming from a family where all men served in the army, it wasn’t easy to follow some other path. For a long time, even Richa dreamed of serving her country but it was during her bachelor’s that she first felt her right knee hurt. ​ Presuming it might be due to lack of stamina, Richa neglected it for a while before she had to rush to a couple of doctors in order to get it diagnosed. As the pain worsened, the doctors became more clueless. Undergoing arthroscopy to find out the cause of her pain but that didn’t help except for the confirmation that the pain is caused due to the muscle atrophy in her leg and it grew weaker and weaker day by day.

Sidharth rubbed his eyes to recheck his message. It said the same thing, “Your father expired last night. Planning his last rites today. Please come asap.” It was his maternal uncle who texted him from Bengaluru. It was late at night in Pittsburgh, and he got up from bed. Later he woke up his wife and told her he would leave immediately. She tried to comfort him, but he said he wasn’t feeling anything. This is just his duty as a son. He told her to take the next day’s flight along with Rohan, his 5-year-old son. Very soon, he was on a long flight to Bengaluru. Cover Photo by Pankaj Tottada It was evening by the time he reached his house. There was a large gathering of people on the porch, and the mood in the hall was sombre. He had to meander his way to his room inside with people patting him and trying to comfort him. “It was a heart attack,” his uncle said. They took him to the hospital, but it was too late. His father’s relatives and friends were few, and some were wailing inconsolably. Many of them looked stern and indignant at Sidharth for not shedding tears for his father. His aunt pulled him near and told him the ashes had to be spread in the Ganges as per his last wishes. But he brushed the thought away. In a few hours, the last rites were completed, and Sidharth longed to return to the US.

Unlike her mother, Avantika stole his luck by coming into his life. Drinking and tormenting her mother were the pastimes of her father. The latter might have given him enough lifetime pleasure, but drinking has taken a greater toll on their lives. Probably his life too. Avantika grew up seeing and experiencing the pain of her mother. A ‘mother’ in a conservative society should not get a divorce as the children will suffer. Little did she know that destiny had the same plans for her. Illustrated by Nisha Yadav Avantika’s father’s death was the greatest relief to her. Though demonic it may sound, it led her life to happy shores, at least for her few years. Her little brother never had the privilege to experience his father’s love. He always thought drinking killed his father, pushing his family to the roads until their grandparents took them in. And after that, life was good, more than reasonable in fact. His mother never cried, and his sister seemed cheerful every day.

As his sweat slowly dribbled down his forehead, he gazed into Moh’s eyes. His gaze shifted towards the ball in Moh’s hand. Moh crossed the ball under his left leg and sprinted towards the basket. He tossed the ball but before it could make a goal, Abhi caught the ball and ran to the other side. Moh wrapped his arms around Abhi and stole the ball from his hands. With a grin on his face, he hit the jump shot and made a goal. “And I won!” Moh shouted in excitement. Still unaware of what made him freeze when Moh stole the ball, Abhi stood in the middle of the court looking at Moh as the court lights behind him shone. “The sun is already down. Let us go back to our dorms. I badly need a shower.” said Moh wiping his face with his t-shirt. Abhi, who still looked like he was lost in some thoughts, suddenly started running towards the dorms. Noticing him, Moh shouted, “Why are you running Abhi?” “To cool my body down! The wind feels nice when I run,” replied Abhi as he ran as fast as he could. “What? That will only make you sweat more when you reach the dorms.” Moh scoffed. A moment later, he muttered, “Whatever!” and started running behind Abhimaan. Laughing and shouting they ran towards the dorms as the sun slowly melted into the darkness. Abhimaan was an engineering freshman. All his life, he lived with his parents and studied in a local school in Vizag, Andhra Pradesh. Since he was accepted at NIT Surathkal in Karnataka for his bachelor's, he had to move into NIT Surathkal's dorms. Moh was Abhi’s classmate. He was from Mumbai however, his grandparents were from Andhra Pradesh who moved to Mumbai and settled there a long time ago. Having the same native tongue, their friendship hit off right away. Although they were from different floors, they would go to class together and play basketball in the evening. After playing, they would shower and spend the rest of the evening playing video games or doing assignments in Abhi’s room.

On a rainy night, Naveena arrived ten minutes early at the restaurant they planned to meet at and without wasting a minute, she ordered their meal and waited for him. Pouring herself a glass of water, she thought about how to approach the topic she very much intended to talk about that evening. As much as she knew he would understand, there was a part of her that couldn’t help but wonder how he would react. But to calm herself, she kept reminding herself, “After everything we have been through, he will understand.” Taking a sip, she checked her watch, and unless she could magically make ten minutes disappear, she knew there was no way he would arrive early. Taking a deep breath, she rethought if this was the right time to discuss her decisions and decided to maybe not talk about it. She felt two hands on her shoulders. When she turned around, there he was. Not just early but even dressed formally in a formal full-hand shirt. He looked sharp in his haircut and neatly trimmed beard. With his eyes widened, he said with a smile, “Look who has become an aunty!” Returning a beaming smile, Naveena replied, “And look who has finally become a man!” As he widened his arms, Naveena embraced him tightly before he embraced her back nearly four years later. Settling on either side of the table, both of them sat in silence for a moment before the waiter placed a plate of spicy noodles with a bowl of Manchurian. Putting a plate of vegetable fried rice before Prachin, the waiter spilt diced onions on the noodles and Manchurian before Naveena picked up the ketchup bottle from the centre of the table and squeezed it in a zig-zag fashion on the whole. The waiter spilt chopped coriander on the fried rice and placed a bowl of Raita and a bowl of chickpea curry on the side. He then placed a glass filled with ice cubes and cola beside Naveena and a glass of water with a lemon on the side beside Prachin. Wishing them to enjoy their meal, the waiter left before Naveena picked up her fork. Glancing at her, Prachin asked, “As much as I want to appreciate your memory regarding my choice of food, I’m more curious to know why you summoned me.”

Every Sunday, as soon as Raghav comes from Lord’s Bungalow, they would go for a walk. Raghav and his little sister Lakshmi, who was three years younger than him. They would turn to the left, crossing the paddy fields, visiting the path that led to Lord’s other Bungalow called Guest House. They walk as if they are on a march, and when the thatched roofs become rare and rare, they would pick up the pace a bit more and settle on the shore of Champavati. The river, his mother told him to worship and his father’s livelihood till he was hanged or killed by the Lord. Raghav never knew how he was killed or on what charges, but when a couple of White police accompanied by Indian guards came to his home, he knew he would be working for the Lord for a very long time. Both the brother and sister were small and thin in their clothes. Raghav had to wear whatever he gets at the Bungalow and the little money he saved goes to buying things for his sister. They both have brown eyes and brown skin, and whenever Raghav worked in the fields of the Lord, he was usually covered in the mud till his hips and the Lord would bark, “You brown dogs, look at the colour of the mud and your skin, fitting jobs you’all got didn’t you?” and walk away.

Disclaimer: For ages above 18 only. Champa sat on the green knoll watching the light fall on the other side of the dam. The light, and the dust that carried in the rays, had all the colours she could name, little frickles of red here, a bit of blue and a lot of yellow-orange beams at both ends. When she was young, and the dam was just a design in some engineer’s office, the same rays would have illuminated the dry patches of the mountain, and when they were seen from the other side, it looked like a rangoli. Champa could only recall her father’s words because she had never been to the dam or the other side of the mountain when she was young. Her father said there would be snakes and tigers. Her mother said boys from the Mandal would come there after dark, and from her words, she was sure they were up to no good. These old musings and sitting here unfazed were her favourite pastimes. Although she forgets the old mental images, the comfort this place offered was worth all the half-hour climb she had to do. She’s been to this place a couple of times before meeting Dharani. There were no tigers or snakes. There were boys, but most minded their own business, and she was okay with the occasional flirting. She looked up, and the clouds were thick and dense, coloured in grey. “It will rain today,” she murmured to herself. Strangely, the wind wasn’t that indicative. But it seemed to be catching up for the night. The cool breeze whizzed past her, and she wished she had one of those thick jackets Dharani had. She stood up and looked down at the water. It lay awfully still and smooth. Only a few more minutes and all of that stillness would be gone, disturbed and forgotten. Forgotten, at least till the storm had subsided. She almost lost her ground and slipped a bit to the left when she heard a voice. “Champa? I have been searching for you for hours?” “I thought I needed some rest.” “And you choose this? What is here to look at? A river between mountains and a dam? What is so good here to take all the trouble to get here? Now, look at me, please.” he pulled her hands towards him.

Disclaimer: For ages above 18 only. I: Flowers “No! This cannot happen!” shouted Koffee, gobsmacked, looking at herself in the mirror. Meanwhile, her mom barged into the room to yell, “It’s already 7.30! You will miss your school!” Koffee exited the room and picked up her lunchbox and backpack before marching towards the car. Koffee was sixteen years old and pale-skinned, but if asked to describe her, most people in the school would remember her for her long dark burgundy hair, hardworking quality and warm nature. Cover Photos by Pankaj Tottada “Mom! Where’s my tie?” screamed Koffee’s sister. She was ten years old, smart, quirky and the youngest child in the family. “Check inside your skirt pocket,” replied Koffee’s mother. Meanwhile, her father completed cleaning the car and was ready to drop his children at school. “Today I am going to sit beside Papa,” said the little one, sliding her sister, while Koffee, lost in her thoughts, didn’t respond but simply sat in the back seat of the car. Waving bye to his wife, Koffee’s father asked, “So, today is your last exam, right? How did you prepare?” “Yes, papa, today is my last exam,” replied the little one. Curling her hair with her fingers, Koffee seemed distracted thinking about the previous night. Breaking her thoughts, her father asked, looking at her face in the rear-view mirror, “What about you, Koffee? Did you revise all the important topics Kissy mentioned?” Hearing the name Kissy, Koffee woke up jazzed, and her face turned pink. “Err… yeah… I almost covered everything, Dad,” she replied diffidently, looking outside the window. Kissy is a twenty-year-old, 5’5, dusky-skinned, vigorous and fervent girl with shoulder-length blonde hair. She is a bachelor’s student at Axis college and works as a part-time tutor for high school students. “All the best to both of you!” said their father as he dropped Koffee and her sister at school and waited until they walked inside the campus. He couldn’t stop thinking about Koffee while he drove to the office. He was worried that she was stressed about performing well in her exams. The sisters parted ways in their respective classrooms. As soon as Koffee entered the classroom, the lovebirds, who were Koffee’s friends, greeted her, and the girl said, “You missed her! She came to provide a few Xerox copies which included topics that appeared in previous examinations. She waited for a while but left”. Following her, the boy continued, “And yes, she asked for you and wished you luck.” Koffee was overwhelmed with happiness and wanted to meet Kissy soon after she finished the exam. Meanwhile, the headmistress announced an announcement asking students to settle down to take their exams. Koffee collected her lucky pen, a water bottle, and other stationery while the lovebirds wished each other luck before wishing their friend together. Everyone settled in their appropriate benches, and the invigilator soon started distributing question papers with attached answer sheets. Koffee received her set, and when she started looking at each question, it reminded her of Kissy. Noticing her not writing anything while absorbed in her thoughts, the invigilator asked, tapping on the bench, “Are you not feeling well?” “No, ma'am. I am all right,” replied Koffee before taking a sip of water. “Focus, Koffee! You can do it!” she told herself before she started writing. Before long, the invigilator collected everyone’s papers as the bell rang. The lovebirds suggested that they could hang out at a nearby coffee shop. They wanted to spend more time before reaching home, but Koffee declined. She said, “Not today. I have some important errands.” Telling her sister she would be back before long, Koffee took a bus to the Town Hall. She sat beside the window, animated. She has always been a shy girl who respects her parents and lives up to their expectations by getting good grades. The girl amongst the lovebirds was her closest friend since childhood. Neither of them kept many secrets to themselves until the boy stepped in, but now there are a few things that they never shared. At least Koffee certainly didn’t. However, many, along with her close friend, were curious as to why Koffee, a popular girl in the school with long wavy hair and brown-honey eyes, never dated anyone. For years, the lovebirds teased her that she would become a saint. Koffee used to defend herself, claiming she was waiting for her prince charming. But deep inside, she always felt a little weird when she said that. Whenever she saw the lovebirds, she dreamt of having a partner who truly loved her and swept her off her feet; at last, she might have one. Reaching her destination, Koffee stepped off the bus and headed out to her lover’s house. She noticed the door locked from the outside when she took the elevator to the fourth floor. She then leaves and approaches a small telephone booth. Recalling her lover's number, Koffee calls her. When she is just about to respond after hearing “Hello” from the other end, she becomes dumbstruck, and the phone drops off her hand as she sees her lover with a man on the other side of the road. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Hello, who is this?” a sound comes from the other end of the call, and she quickly drops the phone. She frowns, watching a man with a bouquet full of red roses. Her lover Kissy disconnects the call and hugs him. After taking the flower bouquet, Kissy jumps in delight, and they go to a nearby restaurant. Heartbroken, Koffee leaves home as tears rain out of her eyes. II: Kisses On her way back home, Koffee recalls how it all started. Two days ago, Koffee went to her tuition as always, and Kissy asked Koffee to stay back for some more time as she had much syllabus left to revise. After all the other students left, Kissy contacted Koffee’s father and informed him that she would be late for an hour or two as she had an exam the very next day, and there were a lot of syllabi left to revise. Post-call, Koffee continued studying; meanwhile, Kissy prepared coffee and food for both of them. This was nothing special, as Kissy always cared for Koffee. In the past, Koffee used to spend her weekends with Kissy watching movies and playing badminton alongside beautiful conversations. She always felt special when she was with Kissy. The way her teacher looked into her eyes made Koffee forget about everything and just pushed her, even more, to be with her. Sometimes, the love bird used to feel jealous of Kissy when Koffee bragged about her. Today, however, something was different. Kissy locked the door from inside and sat beside Koffee on the couch bed. She grasped the book from Koffee’s hand and asked her if she had studied everything perfectly for the exam.

Shruti and Shreya were two sisters who were raised in a conservative family by a strict mother and an adorable father. Though the siblings were eight years apart, they shared a special bond and kept no secrets from one another. After their graduations, the sisters got married to guys who were handpicked by their parents. It had been nine years since Shruti got married and one year since Shreya got married. Cover Photo by Vani Buddhavarapu Though both of them were imparted with the same values by their parents, Shreya disliked a lot of their notions and didn’t support their ideas. She didn’t want to follow traditions that were cast on them through the centuries. But neither of the sisters were given the liberty to even discuss why these traditions make no sense. They weren’t supposed to touch others or help themselves for a span of three days when they got their periods, they had to wash their hair every Friday, cut nails on specific days, braid their hair all the time, learn to sing, dress traditionally and even smile elegantly in public gatherings like a ‘lady’.

As the cold winds touched the Prince, he rode triumphantly on his horse followed by two soldiers. He knew, he had earned the ride, the one he waited for a fortnight and as he rode his horse, his light blue cape cut the cold wind with the warmth of his anxiousness. Listening to the thunder of galloping horses, subjects walked out into the street to witness nature’s will. On the street mentioned two weeks ago, Prince Indrajeet waited for Lakshmi and its master. Observing the Prince filled with pride in earning his ride, a few of his subjects were worried about Lakshmi. Illustration by Sonam Jha Their faces turned pale under the black clouds hiding the fierce burning ball behind it. The wind grew colder as Lakshmi finally approached them. On top of her was her companion Vishnu. Resting on his horse, Prince Indrajeet raised his hand holding the demanded coin that appeared to everyone like a white dot in a dark world. While it felt as if nature had to surrender to tyranny, Lakshmi burnt like a golden flame eradicating the darkness.