This post is FREE  until 30th June 2026 . निकला जब-जब मैं कर्मपथ पर अपनों ने मुझे ललकारा है। कहते घमंड किस बात की तुम में? जो तू इतना इठलाता है। रोहित हर्षा द्वारा कवर फ़ोटो व्यंग देख हृदय खुश मेरा अभी खुद को और बनाना है। निकला जब-जब मैं कर्मपथ पर अपनों ने मुझे ललकारा है। प्रतिदिन पूछूँ प्रश्न मैं खुद से अब नया कौन सा बहाना है? एक क्षणिक प्रयास मात्र से हटता न कोई अँधियारा है। है विकल्प अब युद्ध के भाँति करना या फिर मर जाना है। निकला जब-जब मैं कर्मपथ पर अपनों ने मुझे ललकारा है। श्रेय यह कविता अभिनव यादव द्वारा लिखी गई है, समीक्षा एड्लिन डिसूजा  द्वारा की गई है, संपादन निधि पांडे  द्वारा किया गया है, फोटो रोहित हर्षा  द्वारा लिया गया है।

This post is FREE  until 30th June 2026 . Credits This work was created by R. S. Chintalapati , reviewed by Nikhila Kotni , edited by Manognya Bethapudi  & illustrated by Ekta Pathak Mishra .

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.

రెండేళ్ల అనుభవం ఉన్న జర్నలిస్ట్ వేదకు, తన ఎడిటర్ నుంచి ఒక సాధారణ అసైన్‌మెంట్ వస్తుంది. తీరంలో నాట్యం చేసే ఓ అమ్మాయి కథను కవర్ చేయమని. అది మరో ‘పఫ్ పీస్’ అనుకొని వెళ్లిన వేద, ఆ నర్తకిని కలిసిన తర్వాత ఆమె ముందుగా ఊహించినదానికంటే ఆ అమ్మాయిలో అపారమైన ప్రతిభ, లోతైన కథ ఉందని గ్రహిస్తుంది. క్షణకాలం వేద నిజాన్ని రాయాలనుకుంటుంది… కానీ ఆ నిజం అందరికీ నచ్చేది కాదని, అసలు అమ్ముడే పోదని గ్రహించి వెనక్కి తగ్గిపోతుంది. ఇంతకీ ఆ నిజం ఏంటి? బృందం ఈ పనికి ఆర్. ఎస్. చింతలపాటి నిర్మించారు. రోహిత్ హర్ష దర్శకత్వం వహించారు, నిఖిలా కోట్ని సంపాదకత్వం వహించారు, సంభాషణ రచయిత మధులిక ఆచంట , సంతోషి రాజపితామహుని & మౌనిక పలివిలి నటించారు

This post is FREE  until 30th June 2026 . 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. With a smile, the lady said, “Hey there! I’m Siri, and this is my husband Venkat. We bought your neighbouring house recently. So sorry if the movers were too loud.” With a soft smile, Anjali replied, “Hey! I just got curious. They were not too loud and were welcome to the community!” Noticing Anjali’s baby bump, Venkat asked, “When are you expecting?”  Anjali sensed pain in Siri’s eyes and hesitantly answered, “In eight weeks...” Cheering herself up, Siri replied, “Take good care, sister, and don’t forget to reach out whenever you need any help. Don’t even think twice.”   Bidding goodbye, Anjali got back to her work, and later that night, when the cold breeze gave her chills, she sat near the window looking at the sky and thought she might have held Anil’s hand just like Siri held her husband’s hand. If only Anil had not taken from her through that unfortunate accident. In the next few weeks, Anjali and Siri spoke often, and as their bond grew, they began sharing their pasts. Siri told her how she and her husband were delighted when she got pregnant about a year ago. However, soon, she continued with her eyes filled with tears, as to how she had a miscarriage.  Her experience struck Anjali, and in the following week, she opened up to Siri, telling her about her marriage. She told her how their marriage made both families reject them, and then how an unfortunate accident killed the man with whom she hoped to spend her entire life. Though Anjali felt a lot of pain reliving the experience, Siri was very supportive and hoped her friend would finally get closure by talking to someone about her haunting past. Both women were dealing with their own losses that the other hadn’t experienced. However, Siri still had a life partner to help her deal with her pain. Sensing the void that Anjali must be feeling, one day while having coffee together in the evening, Siri hesitantly asked, “I’m not sure if I should ask this question, but I would like to know if you intend ever to get married again?” They sat silent for a moment before Anjali replied, “I don’t have any intentions to marry anyone else, Siri. Why do you ask?” Her answer made Siri even tenser. She didn’t know if their bond was strong enough to have such a discussion yet, but not giving up, Siri said, “Ever since we moved here, I have always seen you being gloomy and depressed.” While Anjali thought she told her what happened, Siri continued, “I know you have lost everyone who cared for you, but I’m sure after knowing a few things, I must tell you to experience the pleasure of holding a baby within you.” Holding her hand, Siri said, “I don’t want you to relive your past every passing moment while forgetting to live a moment that might never happen again. I’m certain, Anil would want you to do that.”  Out of the numerous conversations they had, this is the first time Siri made Anjali realise how beautiful and powerful it was to carry life within her. Hoping to be a mother someday and having had a miscarriage, Siri knew the feeling more than anyone else. That night, Anjali thought about what Siri said. Looking at the dark sky, she recalled how Anil always spoke to her about living in the present. She recalled the time when they deliberated on getting married. Anil straight-out said, “I will not leave you based on a speculative future.” When he got to know that Anjali was pregnant, the first thing he said was, “Please let her be a little demoness like me, and both of us will never stop teasing you.” Thinking about it, again and again, Anjali realised that she needs to accept the past and grow beyond it. With a new addition coming into her life soon, she realised that she shouldn’t regret not listening to her parents because her loss was not because of predictions. For once, she told herself, she shouldn’t let the past hold her, or fate beat her down. Instead, she should cherish her present while always continuing to love her first and only love.  No matter how things kept falling apart in her journey, she promised Anil that their souls would be together forever, and in this new beginning, for his loss might have left her lonely but not alone. She resolved to be grateful for every passing moment and hoped to live a life filled with love and hope, wrapped in positivity! Credits This contribution was written by Pooja Jonnalagadda , edited by Edlyn D ’ souza , & Sreekar Ayyagari & photographed by Ravindra Patoju .

This post is FREE  until 30th June 2026 . 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 chill prickled down his spine. He couldn’t help but think, “Maybe Arun had just... lost track of time?”  Suresh could hear the faint hum of something deep in his chest, as though the apartment was holding its breath. He reached for the spare key in the shoe stand. His fingers trembled as he found it. The minute he unlocked the house, the door creaked open, and immediately, a wave of putrid air hit him, thick and rancid. His stomach churned as the smell of something decaying reached his nose. He stepped inside, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. It was wrong. The house, usually filled with the sounds of the others… Sameer, Karthik, Vikram… felt abandoned, as though time had stopped. Suresh turned toward the kitchen, the smell leading him to the corner where the garbage bag sat, forgotten. Its contents were dark and swollen, maggots crawling in slow clusters over the refuse. Suresh recoiled, his hand going to his mouth. “Goddammit, Arun, you’ve really let this place go,” he muttered, but his words felt hollow. Arun was meticulous…this was unlike him. He shook his head, his thoughts sluggish from the long day. “I’ll clean it up in the morning.” Still, something lingered in the air…thicker than before, like the house was holding its breath. Suresh shuffled back toward his bedroom, trying to shake the unsettling feeling that had followed him inside. He locked the door behind him, collapsing into bed, trying to convince himself it was just exhaustion. The air in the room felt heavier than usual, but his eyelids fluttered shut. At 3:33 AM, Suresh woke with a jolt. His throat felt dry, and the room was suffocating. The familiar hum of the apartment seemed distant now, muffled, as though the darkness had swallowed the world outside. He reached for his water bottle, but it was empty. Reluctantly, he climbed out of bed, and the chill of the floor bit his bare feet. The hallway was darker than it should have been, the moonlight gone, as though something had blocked the windows. He tried the light switch, but it didn’t work. A low, wet drip-drip-drip echoed from somewhere deep inside the apartment. The tap? He thought, but when he reached the kitchen, the faucet was dry. The sound continued…faint, but persistent. Suresh’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t the sink. It was coming from deeper within the house. Suddenly, something moved in the corner of his vision…a rustling, like fabric shifting. Suresh froze. His heart hammered in his chest as he turned slowly toward his bedroom. A shadow separated itself from the darkness in the far corner, stretching unnaturally tall. Two gleaming, wide eyes pierced the shadows. The figure grinned…its mouth stretched impossibly wide, sharp teeth gleaming like fractured glass. Suresh’s blood ran cold. The creature’s movements were unnatural, jerky, its body twisting in ways that defied reason. Its neck snapped unnaturally, craning toward him as it took a step forward, dragging its limbs at strange angles. The sound of bones cracking echoed in the thick air. His breath caught, his vision narrowing. Panic surged, but his body froze. There was no escape. He didn’t think; he bolted, his chest heaving as he sprinted to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and twisting the lock. His mind raced, scrambling to make sense of what he had just seen. But it didn’t make sense. The shadowy figure…it was real. The knock came then. Soft at first. Knock, knock, knock. “Suresh,” a voice called from outside. Arun’s voice. But it wasn’t quite right. Illustrated by Nikhila Kotni “Suresh, don’t you always say I rarely speak to you? I’ve come now. Let’s talk. Come on!” The voice was wrong. It didn’t sound like Arun. The words felt forced, twisted. Suresh’s blood ran cold. The knocking grew louder, faster, a frantic rhythm that shook the door violently. “Suresh! Let me in!” The voice was no longer Arun’s. It had splintered into a dozen overlapping voices, each one more insistent than the last. Panic clawed at Suresh’s chest as he scrambled for his phone. His hands trembled as he dialled his roommates, one after another. Every call went to voicemail. Desperation rose as he dialled again. And again. The same robotic message each time: “The number you have dialled is out of coverage area.” Desperation clawed at his chest. He dialled again. And again. The same result, as though the universe itself had conspired to isolate him.   For over an hour, the knocking continued. The sound reverberated through the room, so relentless it seemed to vibrate in his skull.    Clutching his phone tightly, he muttered prayers under his breath, hands shaking as he dialled one last number…not his friends this time.    He exhaled a shaky breath. “Someone’s knocking on my door! They won’t stop! Please, help!” “Who is knocking?” the officer asked calmly. Suresh choked on his breath. How could he explain? What had he seen? He couldn’t say it…couldn’t describe it. How could anyone believe him? “Is it a thief?” the officer pressed. “A thief,” Suresh gasped, his mind reeling. “Yes, please, hurry!” The officer confirmed the address and promised help. As soon as he hung up, the voice returned. “A thief?” it whimpered, a twisted mockery of concern. “I’m a thief?” Then the voice shifted, turning violent. “HOW DARE YOU CALL ME A THIEF! OPEN THE DOOR!” The knocking resumed, more frantic than ever, a violent battering that felt as if the entire doorframe would collapse under the weight. Suresh pressed his back against the door, his body trembling with terror. He could hear the creature outside, its voice growing distorted, a low growl building beneath the words. “LET ME IN! OPEN THE DOOR!” The air in the room grew oppressive as time stretched. Then, abruptly, it stopped. The silence was suffocating. Suresh stayed frozen, his ears straining for any sign of movement. For a moment, he thought he heard faint, distant footsteps, fading away. “Hello?” a voice called from outside his room. “We got a call. It’s the police. Open the door.” Relief washed over Suresh, but he hesitated. A warning bell rang in his mind. Something was wrong. He reached for the door handle, his hand shaking. Just as his fingers touched the lock, the voice returned—louder now, clearer. “YES! OPEN THE DOOR! LET ME IN!” It wasn’t the police. It never was. The banging continued, relentless and deafening, until Suresh heard a loud thud!   He jolted upright on the bed, his heart hammering against his ribs. For a terrifying moment, he thought it was his room door, finally giving way to the relentless assault. But as he stared at it, still intact, the realisation crept in—it wasn’t his door.   And then, the light changed.   The faint golden glow of the sun’s rays seeped through his window, illuminating his bedroom. The oppressive darkness lifted slightly, and for the first time in hours, Suresh could make out the outlines of his furniture.   Footsteps echoed from outside his room, accompanied by voices.   “Suresh? Are you inside?” a man called out. “There’s nobody out here. It’s safe. You can come outside. Suresh?”   His body tensed. He knew better than to trust voices. They had tricked him before, mimicking familiarity, preying on his fear.   “No! No! Leave me alone!” Suresh screamed, pressing his hands tightly over his ears, rocking back and forth on his bed. His hoarse voice filled the room, drowning out everything else.   Suddenly, a loud bang! Pierced through the air. It was a gunshot.   The door to his bedroom burst open, and two uniformed officers stormed in. Suresh’s tear-filled eyes widened as he saw the unmistakable insignia of the police. One of the officers rushed toward him, kneeling beside him.   “You’re safe,” the officer said firmly, gripping Suresh’s shoulders. “You’re safe now. It’s over.”   The words barely registered in Suresh’s frenzied mind. He looked at the officers in disbelief, his lips trembling. His hands slowly lowered from his ears as the sounds of reality crept back in…the faint chatter of other officers, the echo of boots on the floor, the rustling of papers in the distance.   “Suddenly, another officer approached the one comforting Suresh. “Sir, you should see this,” he said grimly.   The officer exchanged a wary glance with his colleague and stood. Suresh, his body still trembling, found himself compelled to follow. The fear of being alone in his bedroom outweighed his terror of what lay beyond.   The living room was now bathed in sunlight, the golden beams streaming through the windows chasing away the sinister shadows that had dominated the night. Everything appeared normal again, as though the house was merely an ordinary apartment, a place devoid of the horrors Suresh had experienced.   But that illusion shattered the moment they entered another bedroom. The officers froze. Suresh hesitated at the doorway, clutching the frame as if it could somehow anchor him. “Suresh,” one officer asked, his voice low and almost reluctant, as though he was afraid of the answer. “How long have you been here?” “Last..” Suresh mumbled, as if the sight had just taken his words away, “last night…” his words trailed off. “And you mean to tell us that you haven’t noticed the body?” the officer probed. “It was him… it doesn’t make sense… He kept banging the door for hours, demanding that I let him in. When did he… Why…” Suresh’s voice was ragged, his mind struggling to piece things together. The officer’s gaze never wavered, but something flickered in his eyes… something that made Suresh’s skin crawl. “This man had been dead for days. The condition of the flesh… It’s been rotting for a while. And the eyes...” Suresh’s breath caught. He turned slowly toward the corpse, his legs unsteady. The eyes… Arun’s eyes… were wide open, fixed in that grotesque, unearthly grin. The officer continued, his voice barely a whisper now, “And you claim he was knocking on your door?”    The walls of the room were smeared with dark streaks, and Suresh staggered backwards, his stomach lurching as bile rose in his throat. The officers moved closer to inspect the scene, their faces grim. One of them gestured for medical help, speaking into his radio with a steely calm. Suresh’s eyes were fixed on Arun’s face. Despite the lifeless body hanging from the fan, he could swear the twisted grin had widened, just slightly.    And then, he heard it again.   The faintest whisper, echoing from the darkest corner of the room,  “Let me in.” Credits This contribution is written and illustrated by Nikhila Kotni , reviewed by Edlyn D’souza & edited by Sreekar Ayyagari .

This post is FREE until 30th June 2026 . 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. Cover Photo by Pankaj Tottada Where am I in this endless race? Why do I bow? Why give up my place? Should I surrender, or should I fall? Or was I never meant to stand at all? A journey to glory or a path to despair? Each step feels heavy yet leads me nowhere. My hands are tied, my voice is weak, I scream inside but dare not speak. Will there be a change? Will light breakthrough? Will I rise and start anew? When will I smile, when will I see, The life I lost still waits for me? Where is the peace? Where is the war to cease? Or is the end my one release? But if there’s still a spark in me, Perhaps there’s more I’m meant to be. So if I fall, I’ll rise once more, Step by step, not keeping score. I’ll feed my art; I’ll free my soul, And piece by piece, I will be whole. Credits This poem was written by Nikhil Narayanasa , photographed by Pankaj Tottada  & acted by Hareeth Chiluveru .

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

Plastic goods meant for use and throw, to be meaninglessly disposed as along you go. Plastic covers, some meant to hide, others made to protect, what’s enclosed inside.

This post is FREE  until 30th June 2026 . 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। स्नेहा बोयापल्ली द्वारा कवर फ़ोटो सब व्यर्थ! मेरे मन पर, किसी का अधिपत्य नहीं हो पाया। क्यूंकि, मैं मन से आज़ाद थी। स्वतंत्र! पूर्णतः। मेरे अंतर्मन तक पहुंचना, इंसानी क्षमताओं के परे है। जमीन के टुकड़े के तरह, मैं ना ही नीलाम हो सकती हूँं, ना ही किसी जायदाद का हिस्सा। मैं टुकड़ों में बांटी नहीं जा सकती। मेरा मन, दहेज में बाँंधकर नहीं भेजा जा सकता। वो मेरे भीतर धंसा हुआ है। शरीर से भी परे। सात वचनों में, अस्तित्व का वचन कौन सा है? चूड़ियों की आवाज़ के तले, स्त्रियों का अंतर्मन छुपा दिया गया है। सर ढकने से तात्पर्य, सपने ढकने का तो नहीं था? या सबने मिलकर, सारी बेड़ियाँं गढ़ी हैं, सिर्फ नारी जीवन के लिए ही? जिसने मेरा जीवन बाँंधा हुआ है, उसके लिए मेरा मन बाँंधना असंभव है। तन से परे, मन का क्या? मांस के पुतले को हासिल करने वाले, मेरे मन तक पहुंचने से पहले, अपाहिज हो कर गिर जाएंगे। क्यूंकि, समर्पण किसी का अधिकार नहीं है। समर्पण प्रेम है, प्रेम सत्य है। और शरीर, एकमात्र भ्रम! श्रेय इस संकलन की समीक्षा निधि पांडे द्वारा लिखित, मधूलिका आचंटा  द्वारा की गई है, संपादन एड्लिन डिसूजा  द्वारा किया गया है, फोटो स्नेहा बोयपल्ली  द्वारा लिया गया है और अभिनय निखिला कोट्नी  और रश्मिता रेड्डी  द्वारा किया गया है।