The assassin landed in the middle of the corridor with a puff of dust. He has been through the Quantum bridge a thousand times before, but his head still reeled from the impact. He looked at his watch. The time read 9.9.2032 1137 Hrs. He stopped his humming ARK and placed it in his pocket. He walked to the room’s door, cocked his handgun, and wrapped it in a package. He knew he couldn’t break in. The instructions given to him were clear. “Enter the zone. Extract the asset. Kill the rest.” The man knocked on the door thrice, paused and said: “I have the package. Just like you wanted”. There was some muffled conversation inside. Then somebody walked up to the door and opened it. Cover Photo by Pankaj Tottada The assassin walked inside the room, holding the package in his hand. While he was being frisked, he looked around. Six armed personnel in black robes guarded another six unarmed people in white robes. He looked for his asset and spotted her lying on the floor with a guard standing against her. The whole place looked ragged and was lit by a lone window on the sidewall. The guy finished searching for him and asked for the package. The assassin smiled, unwrapped the handgun and shot him in the head. The room erupted.

Aparna spent most of her time before textbooks, but she could have scored better in her examinations. Maybe because she never learnt but only tried to memorise, and this technique always bailed on her at the last minute. After her first-semester result dropped, Aparna came home and just slipped her college bag and fell on her bed. Illustrated by Amritha Shree Laxmi Observing her, Aparna’s mother made some tea before coming to her and sitting beside her. Passing her the cup of tea, she asked, “If something is destined to reach you, it will! Even if it is beneath the ocean. On the other hand, if it is not destined to reach you, it won’t. Even if it is between your lips!” As she sipped, Aparna’s mother asked, “Now tell me. Do you think you were destined to earn a good score?”

Available in an eBook! Some patients you never forget. Some don’t let you forget. And there are some you don’t want to remember. At times in the night, thoughts swirl.

While the soldiers’ march, Anna peeps through the basement. Anna is a jew who lost her family because of a man’s atrocious racism and now feels like a bird in a cage waiting for freedom! Rosa called her from upstairs. “Today, you don’t have to take your breakfast in the cellar, and you can come up to have it!” While they walk up, Rosa tells Anna, “Gobbles just announced on the radio that Germany won the war, and if it is true, no jew will be spared.” “I have managed to cook for today with whatever is available, please eat full, and I will make arrangements to send you to Switzerland. You will be safe there.” Due to her young age, Anna didn’t bother to listen carefully to what Rosa said but moved towards the radio. She tunes it to a different channel and hears jazz coming in. She makes a few moves, and her frock pulls a plate from the table. At the same time, there is a knock on the door with a familiar voice calling out. Suddenly, all surrounding sounds drowned out, making the heartbeat progressively louder. Lieutenant Herman comes demanding, “Open the door.”

Disclaimer: For ages above 18 only. Swetha’s thoughts had always been random. But a major chunk of her thoughts were fantasies that she often shared with her mother. She was Swetha’s best friend, and their shared kind of intimacy was envied, even by her friends. But when she announced that she would be studying Literature after her Engineering, her mother not only disapproved of her ideas but started looking for a suitable boy. Later, Swetha moved out of her house and joined a course in journalism, heeding the advice of her boyfriend. He told her that once she became a journalist, she would have all the time in the world and could do whatever she wanted. The young man later felt that his life and Swetha’s would never fit in and proposed a breakup. It did not shock or surprise Swetha, as she knew that this was bound to happen, and she had to confront it with all her power. This incident did not shake her life, but she started doing what she was putting off for years. She started reading everything about love, every famous story, poem and newspaper article. This led her to the works of Nandini Priyadarshini, an acclaimed writer known for her poems and short stories, all about love and sharing souls. Nandini Priyadarshini, who was regarded as the pioneer of the Women’s writing movement in India, had her share of troubles in life. But, she chose an outlet to vent them, a worthy outlet, and her feelings took the form of words, and they warmed millions of hearts. People fell in love with her stories first and with her later. Young boys and girls attended her workshops and queued in front of her book signings. All this faded into oblivion when she announced her marriage to some Karthik. In everyone’s eyes, he was a very suitable man. If only he was ten years older rather than younger than Nandini. The poor love birds had to go for a clandestine wedding to avoid the glaring eyes of the media. But it did not stop there. She died four years after her marriage, and this gave enough fodder for the media to investigate her life more. Her husband was suspected, thrashed and accused of killing her, but when the reason for death was known to be cardiac arrest, they had no choice but to accept it. Swetha could not help but take an interest in Nandini and Karthik’s relationship. It was when Karthik started publishing his own works, Swetha decided to meet him and get an interview. She gave herself the task of writing their love story and always wondered how someone like Nandini loved a person, accepted their faults, and still married him. It was one of those routine press meets where Swetha met Naveen, who appeared to be more interested in Nandini-Karthik’s relationship. Naveen has been attempting to get in touch with Karthik, but he was, of course, a celebrity and whatever channels Naveen tried, they stopped dead at some point or other. Swetha thought, through Naveen she could find a way to meet Karthik, and the more she tried, the more she liked to fancy that she had met Karthik, and they spoke to each other like best friends, and their bond grew thicker. Those days, she started questioning her choices and almost decided to quit her job as a reporter cum copy editor and convinced herself to go back to what her graduation degree offered. But when she saw the magazine Outpost’s cover page with Karthik and a caption at the bottom, ‘Interviewed by Naveen Chandra’, she saw a way in front of her eyes.

When your wife dies, you find everything around you feels different. The music, food, and movies suddenly feel tasteless. Your motivation to start your day is absent, and the desire to stay back in bed is whole. It feels like there is nothing to live for, or no force is left that pushes you forward. You are no longer seeking anything. Every object reminds me of her, and everything has a story of its own with her. She is like a spirit that is everywhere, and I can often hear her voice in the house. Her sari, dupatta, pearl earrings, and every one of her possessions no longer has the same spark. Maybe they realised she was gone, or I felt so. It feels heavy from my throat to my chest, absent of the love she gave me, and in this pain, I feel a sense of relief just by imagining her wrapped up around my arms, closer to my heart. At last, all that was left for me were those threads of memories, and all I could hold close to was the walking stick she gave me.

Available in an eBook! Can you imagine a world, A world where people can reset their lives just as Phoenix rises from the ashes. Would you reset your life after every heartbreak?

Disclaimer: For ages above 18 only. Vishwanadh was forty-two years old. He had a wife, a teenage kid, and enough money to live well. He was a lonely guy with few acquaintances, and his wife was as strange to him as his next-door neighbour. When he returned from coaching camp last month, he took his family to a beautiful restaurant, spoke precisely three sentences to his wife, nodded three times to his kid, and then they both started chatting. He didn’t feel alienated or alone since, according to him, this is how all family outings operate. He activated his Bluetooth and began listening to the match broadcast. Vishwanadh thought he was correct, and his way of life shaped him into the man he is today. Unfortunately, there was no question that the guy had no social life, no one to confide in, and that his marriage was more of a necessity than something one would do when they loved so much. He used to retreat at the first sign of affection from anyone, including his parents, and he assumed that this was how everyone lived. The more he became successful in what he had done, the more he believed everything was all right. What he never foresaw was that one cannot go on doing what they’re good at till they die. Careers end, and one would be forced to live with some sort of family and if that family doesn’t mean anything to you, you’re in trouble. Vishwanadh’s father used to play Cricket, and when he represented the state, he became eligible for a government job. As soon as he got the job, he moved away from the game because the purpose was served, and he accomplished what he intended to. The only thing he didn’t foresee was his son liking the game. Like all boys of his age, Vishwanadh loved playing Cricket, it offered him so much, and the time he spent on the ground with his friends made him happy. He resented going to school and even home sometimes, and it was the ground where he found his friends and like-minded people. Unlike in school, there wasn’t much to master here. His coach said he was a natural at hitting the ball, and his fielding was okay, so everything came easily to him. His friends always wanted to understand how he played and why he was so good. His father had other ideas, but Vishwanadh never thought his father would stand in between him and his goals. The boy’s passion was contagious, and Vishwanadh’s father couldn’t help discussing the game with him, a game he used as a ladder to get a job, a game that is so volatile and doesn’t offer any stability to people who want certainties in life. But that was his problem, and he never realized that. Vishwanadh never wanted anything to be certain, he just wanted to play as much as he could and he thought this would make him happy and it was only his happiness that mattered. “I don’t believe he’s very interested in what you want to accomplish with your life,” his mother added. She could feel the disappointment on his face as she stood next to him on the balcony. There was nothing this boy hadn’t attempted to do to satisfy his father and get his devotion and love. But, whatever the son had done, his father was unconcerned. This compassion and love, the father felt, should be reserved for oneself and should be used sparingly on others. Pavan was well aware of his father’s unwillingness to be open, as well as his seeming indifference to everyone in his life. The old man had always been an absent parent to him, and despite the fact that they shared a house, they never had a moment to call it theirs. “I am sure he will like me when he sees me playing Cricket. He loves Cricket more than anything and if I try my luck at it and become successful..” said the fifteen-year-old.

He woke up in a dark and eerie place. Deep in the corner, there sat a girl, so small that she would have gone unnoticed had it not been for her long tresses curling over themselves and making their way up to his feet. Legs bent up to reach her chest, and with her head between her knees, she was whimpering. “E-Excuse me…” She kept crying. It was surprising how her soft sobs tugged so hard on his gut. Cover Photo by Nikhila Kotni He must have hiked this mountain a hundred times with his friends, and he could have sworn he had never seen this castle before. His friends had all been just as surprised but, surprisingly, not even half as curious as him. Their fear had gotten the better of them, and they had left him all alone on his quest to explore the castle. More astonishing to him was his lack of fear. Unlike most guys of his age, he had always loved fairy tales. His strange fascination with these tales of magic and wonder had carried over well into adulthood. But, even if he hadn’t, drawing a comparison to his favourite story was easy. The eerie-looking castle, the sad girl, living at the top of the tower, her unusually long hair - this was Rapunzel.

Disclaimer: For ages above 18 only. Ravi was prepared to get away by 6:00 so that he could be at his best for the evening. He was expecting the last call of the day from the onsite team, ‘Indulgent pigs’, he said ironically, forgetting that once he wanted to work from onsite more than anything, even Anusha, and that led to the postponement of their marriage for almost two years. He talked in a stoic way when at 5:35 his subordinate, a fresh recruit, asked for his help on a bug and requested his authorisation before she could update it in the codebase. The fresher, Naveena, did not hesitate to remind Ravi that a similar situation, a couple of weeks ago, forced him and his team to work on Saturday too. Ravi checked his Whatsapp and was irritated to see no reply to his messages. Was this Friday going to be the same as the previous one? Or was it just a once-in epoch miracle? The phone wriggled like a worm and there was a new message. He unlocked it and the message was from his son. It read, ‘We are at Sunitha Aunty’s place, Dad’. Ravi was disappointed as he was expecting a reply from another person. What was happening to him? He would have jumped to see his son’s messages a couple of months back. He sighed and continued running the script he had written. He ran it and after one glance at the output and the number of redlines highlighting the errors, Ravi knew he would not be leaving anytime before 6:00. Anusha died in an accident last year and the responsibility of taking care of two children fell on him. Her death shocked him, to say the least, but he recovered from it early and the life of a single parent has become acceptable, demanding and something he never wanted to fail at. He has been successful ever since. He brought back his attention to the work. He was aware that mistakes were not acceptable in his job, and mistakes made hastily on a Friday evening, would bend his knees and extract the punishment in the coming weeks. He called Naveena and asked her to re-run the module. She said it was working fine and could push it through. She came to his desk again and asked, ‘What are your plans for the weekend, sir?’ ‘Something you wouldn’t expect,’ Ravi said, rising from his chair. He went to Praveen’s desk and was surprised not to find him there. He called him and there was no response. Ravi grew closer to Praveen in these months, though he was just another fresher. Praveen should always be grateful to God, as the latter has given him both brains and looks. There wasn’t any girl who was not charmed by him, but rumour is it that Praveen fell for Nabha and she has a reputation which was not easily decipherable. Ravi knew that this wasn’t just a rumour and Praveen had been courting her for months and it was sometimes uncomfortable for him as Praveen sought his advice as if he had mastered the Art of Romance and Seduction. A few minutes later, Praveen came to his desk. Ravi was finishing up for the day, still a bit irritated for not getting the reply. ‘Still not in the weekend moods, Senior?’, Praveen chuckled while taking a seat beside Ravi. Ravi did not try for a rejoinder but said, ‘You’re young Praveen, don’t tease the old boys who envy you,’ he added, ‘these old boys shouldn’t become the reason for the delay in your promotions’ ‘If I get a promotion or onsite too early, I’d know who is behind it,’ Praveen said, ‘and if these things were delayed, guess it doesn’t take much to figure out who is behind them.’​

30th July 2008 Dr Subhash walked briskly into the lobby of Pune Police headquarters, clutching his aluminium briefcase. The chaotic scene inside the Crime Investigation Department chamber caught his attention. Officers were preparing for battle, checking files, and communicating via radios. Ankitha noticed him and approached. With an intense look, she greeted him with a brisk handshake. “Hello, Mr. Subhash,” she said. However, before she could continue, Subhash interrupted, annoyed by the reception he had received. Accustomed to being summoned by high-ranking officials, the middle-aged man retorted, “Ms Ankitha, where is Detective Govind? I usually deal with him.” Cover Photo by Kevin Braun “I apologise, sir. If you could follow me, I could explain,” Ankitha replied. Curiosity and agitation compelled Subhash to follow. In the conference room, Ankitha explained, “Nearly for a week now, there was a case filed that stated that Mr Dharvesh Sahay had been missing. His brother-in-law, Mr Anisha, your blood spatter expert, is also missing. Therefore, Govind asked for your presence here.” While Subhash wondered how he could be of help, Govind finally arrived. He brought three cups of tea and biscuits with him, and He also got the aroma of ashes and burnt wood. It felt like he had come out of a fire. His hands were covered with coal, and his shirt was burnt in some places. With a smile, he picked up a teacup and looked keenly around the room before stating, “Presuming Ankitha briefed you, I wish to update both of you that Mr Sahay’s body was found a couple of hours ago in the outskirts of the city, middle of nowhere in a hut half burned. A cab driver was kind enough to report a huge cloud of fumes to the fire department.”

Available in an eBook! Her eyes… Her eyes Are horizontal raindrops Her eyes Look at me like her heart pops. Her eyes Take me beyond the horizon.