Ghost stories from India

The Salted Lullaby

My name is Arindam, and I am forty-two. I live with my aging parents in a small, nondescript town in the southern part of West Bengal, a couple of hours...

The Hollow Hover

It was 3:47 a.m. when the lamp on my nightstand flickered, not electrically, but as if something passed between it and my eyes. I had been staring at the ceiling,...

The Last Ride

In the winter of 2018, I was a final-year student at a college in the outskirts of Pune, India. The exams had ended, and a two-week break loomed. My friends...

The Latchstring Code

My grandmother, Amma, told me stories that felt like they were stitched from the dark fabric of the world itself. She was a woman of immense strength, with seven children...

The Marmalade Jar

The monsoon had reduced the village of Chandpur to a smear of ochre and green, the air thick with the smell of wet earth and rotting jackfruit. I remember the...

The Hollow Descent

The day had that peculiar stillness that precedes a storm, though the sky remained an unbroken sheet of white. Mrs. Meera Sharma, a mathematics teacher at St. Xavier’s Higher Secondary...

The Last Payback

The wedding season in our family was always a whirlwind of color and chaos, but for me, it was a double-edged sword. While the prospect of unlimited fun with cousins...

The Mirror in the Monsoon

The trip to Coorg had been my cousin Meera’s idea, a break from the relentless heat of Bangalore. We were a boisterous group of twenty, aunts, uncles, cousins, all crammed...

The Second Housekeeper

I was sixteen, living in a sprawling old farmhouse in the rural outskirts of Stillwater, Minnesota. My family had moved there the previous year, seeking a quieter life away from...

The Blueprint of Mud

The summer of 2011 had been cruel to the plains. Pune simmered under a relentless sun, the air thick with dust and the distant roar of traffic. But Matheran, perched...

The Yellow Lantern

The train from Guwahati had been a blur of chai and ticket checks, and the bus from Kalka had been a winding nightmare of hairpin bends. By the time we...

The Long Way Home

It was the last day of June when the heat felt like a living thing, a wet blanket smothering the city. My friend Arjun had been talking about his ancestral...

The Unseen Feast

The summer after my final exams, I found myself at my maternal grandmother’s farmhouse in the rolling hills of the Palouse, a vast sea of wheat that turned to gold...

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