The cold January air prickled Suresh’s skin as he rode through the desolate streets of Gachibowli. The lane to his shared apartment felt unusually empty; the silence was only broken by a faint hum of distant streetlights. His gaze lifted to the third-floor windows of their flat. The usual warmth was absent; the lights were out, and the silence around it felt... wrong. He reached for his phone and redialed Arun’s number. No answer. Suresh had returned from his Christmas vacation a night earlier since he had an early morning shift. Although the rest of his roommates also left for their hometowns, Arun was the only one who stayed back, preparing for government exams, still trying to get a job. For the past couple of days, Suresh has been trying to call and text Arun to inform him that he is returning early, but all his attempts have failed. Frowning, Suresh climbed the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the narrow stairwell. The place seemed even quieter than usual, the air thick with an unsettling stillness. He knocked sharply on the door, his knuckles rattling against the wood. No response. Something felt off. He knocked again, louder this time, still nothing…just silence. That gnawing sensation deep in his gut grew. “Arun?” he muttered under his breath, his heart quickening. Scanning the surroundings, he could see that the shoe rack near the door was overturned, its contents scattered across the floor in an odd, careless mess.

A hole in my chest, a void in my mind, Lost in a world that feels unkind. I chase, and I run, yet fall behind, My purpose fades, too hard to find. Working like a dog, no rest, no sleep, Feeding my life to a promise I keep. My art is starving, my heart’s not fed, Dreams are burning while I sit in dread.

Peering at me like she wanted to climb into me and hide herself from the world, Maaya stated, “Whoever said eyes are windows to the soul clearly never saw you!” They say I am cold, that my silvery depth is evil. But I find them frightening. Of all the living things in this world, it is Humans who scare me. “Dull eyes that no eyeliner can fix,” she complained as she dipped the little spindly stick into the cold black liquid before carefully lining the curve of her eyelid. Every day I watch her, berating what she saw in me. They call me cruel, unkind, and unforgiving. But I only show what I see. Her eyes were of almond shape. I heard that comparison play out as a song on the old radio and found it fitting for her. She is an old soul trapped in a new body, with a repaired octogenarian radio still shining on her wooden table. Her mother’s old sarees worked into patchwork quilts stuck to her walls, her father’s old clock proudly ticking on the side. All her possessions were always in a neat little decor project around her. She calls it home. And sometimes, most times, I feel my silver melt when I see the way she touches, no, caresses her objects with care.

मेरा मन, एक हाड़ मांस के बने ढांचे में, सहेज दिया गया है। ना जाने कितनी कोशिशें की गईं, कितने दावे किए गए, पर सारे, मेरी देह से होकर गुज़र गए। हाथ, आँंखें और इरादे, मुझपर अधिकार जमाने की कोशिश करते रहे।

I: Friends I stood beside a bicycle parked before an entrance. Around me were houses with lawns before them, and I could not recollect no matter how much I tried as to where I was. The nearest sign was out of my sight, and there was no one to ask. Out of nowhere, the door to the nearest house opened, and a neatly dressed boy in a white shirt, hand-stitched black pants, and polished formal shoes appeared with a rose in his hand. I hurriedly asked, “Excuse me, could you tell me where I am?” Not only did he not answer, but it seemed like he did not even hear me. He just walked to the bicycle and drove off. I shouted my question again, but he did not respond. Looking around, I realised there was no one else and started running behind his bike. As I did, I continued shouting, and he continued his silence. I was losing him, and if he took the corner, I would be left in the middle of nowhere without a soul to answer my questions. I sprinted but failed to be heard, and when I took the turn, rather than losing him, I saw him fly dashed by a car. I could not believe what I was seeing, and the moment he landed, I was sweating and breathing heavily. With my eyes wide open, I searched for him all around, but all I could see was the window wide open. Even when the night’s cold wind brought chills all over my body, I kept staring at the moon and thinking about the boy; I told myself, “It’s just a dream, Sakshi, just a dream.” The following day, I woke up late. It took me some time to fall asleep again, and as usual, I freshened up with no greetings at home. My parents have always been disinterested in me. They do the bare minimum and expect me to grow all by myself. I wondered, if they were so uninterested in parenting, why bother creating me, or why did they only choose to do it once? I mean, why don’t they do it again to give me company? Honestly, to date, I don’t know my father’s working hours and why my mother is so silent. Our house is as quiet as a graveyard. However, it is clean, beautiful and scented every nook & corner. Walking to the kitchen to pick up my box, I saw raw veggies and fruits in my pack, just like any other day. Illustrated by Hasita Yernati I was about to leave when my mother, a tall, lean woman whose face was covered with deep dark circles, passed me an umbrella. Paying back a smile, I walk in the rain, wondering if something exciting would ever happen in my life rather than be stuck in this endless cycle. I come from a small town, and we just had one school. I would have loved to throw away all my friends from high school and make new ones in college, but there were hardly any new faces. Everyone knew each other, and after the many episodes of me being a cranky companion in school, many of my classmates not only walked away from me but even gifted me the reputation that I was a know-it-all. That attached to my sickening appearance and piss-poor communication skills ensured that I would never make a friend, and with every passing year, that task just got impossible. For years, right from the start of the day to the end of the day, it was just me moving on in life silently. Shaking my umbrella and shoes as I reached class, I passed through all two-seater benches until the last. Settling down, I awaited another dull day. The rain just made it even worse, but just when I was all out of happiness, he arrived. The boy who lit up almost all the girls in our class, “Vedh!” It turns out that our beloved college had an admission for Vedh but not a bench. Introducing himself and pointing to the seat beside me, Vedh questioned, “Is this seat occupied?” When I nodded my head, indicating a no, with nowhere else to go, he had to share the bench with none other than me. And boy, oh boy, the number of stares I got on that day was more than what I had gotten for years. He was tall, fair, and had a fruity smell lingering all over him. He asked, “Could you please tell me something about this class I should know before shaking hands?” I honestly wasn’t expecting that. I mean, if that is the first thing Vedh would want to know, I did not want him to be lied to. So, I whispered, “Most in this room have two faces. Don’t dig deep to see the other face of anyone unless you are truly ready.” He looked at me, a little freaked out. He whispered, “You don’t truly mean that, do you?” I just smiled and stayed silent, recollecting my previous encounters in such discussions. I mean, honestly, this part I never understood this. People come to me for honest opinions and advice & when I give them, they look at me like I’m possessed. In the following days, Vedh spread across the room and greeted one after another. Listening to their delightful conversations and thundering laughter, I presumed Vedh would move on, and I would be stuck in my place as anticipated. He did. For just the first two days, he sat beside me, and later, he moved on, and I was back to being my best companion. That did not mean he never spoke to me. We spoke. He was perhaps the only one in class who took my words as they should be and reaped the benefit. I think he said, “You’re an odd egg at the sight of it, but when you taste it, you are no different from any others.” For a while, I did not know what to make of it, but the more I thought about it, I started believing the more it encapsulated my personality. As weeks passed, Vedh asked me, “Would you like to play basketball?” When I looked hesitant, he promised to teach if I was willing to give it a shot. Not intending to alienate the only chance to have a pleasant evening hangout, I agreed, and my Tuesday & Thursday were never more exciting. I never thought anything could beat my excitement until a couple of weeks later, Vedh asked, “Sakshi, will you go on a date with me?” If there was one thing I was never prepared for, it was this. I had never even anticipated such an occasion would happen anytime soon, and life threw it at me when I least expected it. So, putting together what I had at the last minute, I wore a black frock, a sleek silver chain with a diamond around her neck and red high heels. Vedh wore a red slim-fit shirt, black jeans and formal shoes. The restaurant he picked had dim lights, and each table had candles in the centre. Placing the bouquet of white flowers, he gave me when I entered, we settled and ordered our starters. While tasting the sweet corn soup, Vedh said, “Maybe this would be the right time to apologise for not continuing to sit beside you, Sakshi.” While I nodded, there was no need for such an apology. Vedh continued, “However, it was because of this decision that I realised your worth.” As much as I wanted to believe him, my gut told me he was buttering me. However, before the main course was served, he confessed, “As you might have presumed, I have moved in here because my father has recently joined the local steel factory. Unfortunately, that is far from reality. I am studying here only because I wish to leave home & be at peace. So I choose this place where I would know no one.” Baffled, I asked, “But why?” “Because I did not belong there, Sakshi. My existence there made no difference to anyone; I am a nobody in a big town & my parents love my elder brother more than anything else.” For once, I felt terrible for him. Beyond all that facade of a personality, he was nothing more than a boy seeking to be loved just like me. Thinking briefly about his last sentence, he asked, “How much do you think my parents took to say yes to send me here?” Hoping to be kind, I guessed, “A night?” He just smirked at my response. He whispered, “I know how you feel, Sakshi. I have no one just like you.” I could see him lost, and hoping to assure him, I held his hand. When he looked at me, I whispered, “We have each other...” After a moment of silence, a faint smile appeared on his face. II: Partners Honestly, I never thought my life would be exciting, forget interesting. I had not looked forward to attending college in a long time, and everything was going smoothly. I played basketball, laughed and had someone to talk to now. We could share all our insecurities, fears, and dreams with each other without worrying about judgements. There was a tangible bond between us & though it raised eyebrows occasionally, neither of us bothered about it. Freshening up, I rushed to the kitchen to pick up my box, and before I did, I saw my father skimming through the newspaper, sipping his coffee. Looking at me, he folded the paper and put it down before asking me to sit with him. When I obeyed, he asked, “How is school Saki?” I knew something was up. I was afraid my later evening arrivals would come to bite me, but my mother’s silence for about two weeks convinced me that I was safe. Apparently not. Noticing my silence, my father, a tall man with a coarse voice that more often than not scared me, gently asked, “Mumma tells me you are dating a boy...”

Sipping the hot coffee as tears rolled down her cheeks, Anjali tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear while thinking about how her father kinda predicted her future years ago. When she introduced Anil to her family, she thought nothing about him could lead to rejection, but she never anticipated that they would reject him based on astrology. She recalled her disbelief when they declared that he wouldn’t survive even a couple of years if they got married, but they did. Now, on a Sunday morning, Anjali was reliving her past all alone in a dark, double-bedroom apartment. Cover Photo by Ravindra Patoju Whenever she didn’t work, Anjali would stare at the dark sky at night or the white ceiling in the mornings while trying to accept the reality that her ill fate had snatched away her future from her. At times, her work friends visited her, and except for them, there was no one she had now. No calls, texts, or visitors. Only doctor appointments and the cook who brought her food every day. One day, Anjali heard a lot of disturbance while she was working from home. When she opened her door, she could see men shifting things. She soon saw a sweet couple walking towards her, holding hands.

“Aaah! Doctor, it is paining like hell,” The lady on the bed started to yell. The probability of her survival was a dearth, Still, she risked bringing life to Earth. Although not from the time of zygote formation, But she has felt the baby within during gestation.

निकला जब-जब मैं कर्मपथ पर अपनों ने मुझे ललकारा है। कहते घमंड किस बात की तुम में? जो तू इतना इठलाता है।

A woman steps out of the house and slips her feet into her sandals. Distant prayers can be heard vaguely from places of worship. It is still early dawn with a bluish glow all around. Drops of dew fall over the railing on the gate when she pushes it open with a creaking sound. She wears a white cotton saree and has long, untied hair covering her slender, graceful figure. She walks briskly while carrying a cotton bag over her shoulder as if on a mission. A flock of pigeons fly away at the sound of her firm steps. Sweepers clean the roads of the previous night’s trash. Her silhouette contrasts sharply with a grey-bluish dawn as she walks ahead. Cover Photo by Manohar Koviri She crosses the main road, which is almost empty now. Suddenly, out of nowhere, three men on bikes cross her at high speed. They see her, take a turn and start circling around her, drinking and mouthing foul words and passing dangerously close to her. She stands defiantly on her ground. One of them tries to touch her and, in turn, slashes a cut on her hand. She wriggles out of her way and walks away steadily from them. She is ruffled up by the incident, but composes herself. She turns and continues walking steadfastly. Newspaper boys pass by, ringing their cycle bells. The red sun dawns on the orange sky, throwing a yellowish hue on her face, which is now steady and focused. The sound of the radio’s adjusting frequency from a nearby vendor stall disturbs the tranquillity of the morning.

Twelve hours. That’s the amount of time I spend shoving my face into books daily. I wouldn’t consider myself a nerd, as I’m being bribed to do this. I don’t have the time to do anything but memorise every single goddamn line from the never-ending pile of books. No matter how many hours I grind, it still doesn’t feel enough. Maybe it’s just me being cautious, but you can never be too careful in situations like this. You may ask, what kind of situation? I mean, when you’re being gifted a motorcycle if you top the class, stress and sleep deprivation are definitely expected. A Honda is what I chose when I was offered a bike. I was just being considerate by choosing something they could afford, since this deal wasn’t me swindling my parents. Do I feel guilty about it? Maybe. I’m not asking for too much. No, all I want is just a Honda. Cover Photo by Pankaj Tottada I briskly climb the stairs with my head facing my feet. The five-year-old white paint coat on the steps fell off just like my energy. The sun goes down as I open the gate to the small rooftop terrace of my apartment. Dizzy in the head, I take a few more steps ahead and fall on the floor, unconscious. I start to feel drops of water being sprinkled on my face. An ugly face pops up with all its teeth in my face.

Can you tell me one thing which you desperately want in life? I want to live. Yes, I want to live no matter how tough things get, and I like the strength to face my hurdles. I know time tests us with everything it has, and it shall not stop at anything, but I learnt we should never give up, even if it costs us everything. By the way, I’m Vani, and I’m with such firm convictions because I was stuck in a phase for a long time, and it took me everything to come out of it. Life had never been the same after we parted ways. Even in the most beautiful times, I felt nothing. Even when everything was as I expected, I never even tried to appreciate it. Three years have passed, and yet my heart still retreats to him. Even on the busiest of days, my mind is clouded in his thoughts, his scent, and his smile; they still make my heart flutter. His presence not only makes me nervous but also makes me do stupid things, and even now, years later, nothing changed. From all the walks, laughter, warm hugs, passionate kisses, leaning shoulders, held hands, to everything vanishing, here I am, sitting in the dark, crowded in my thoughts. I am stuck, and every time I try to move forward, I recall my actions... deeds I have never committed before and acts that cannot be undone. They stay right within me, and I have to make peace with myself about my recklessness. Though this realisation often rips me apart, I knew I had to pick myself up for better or worse.

A queue of different beads threaded together on a string. All crafted to be unique and different, holding presumptions of what each may bring.