The Last Dispatch
Corporal Arjun Mehta lay in his bunk, the canvas of his tent fluttering under the warm desert wind. The base at Ratnapur was quiet that evening, the usual hum of...
Corporal Arjun Mehta lay in his bunk, the canvas of his tent fluttering under the warm desert wind. The base at Ratnapur was quiet that evening, the usual hum of...
In 1992, the monsoon had turned Pune into a drum, each downpour a beat on the tin roofs. I was twelve, and my brother lay in a hospital bed, his...
The summer after my aunt’s funeral, the air in our grandmother’s old farmhouse was thick with the scent of dust and grief. My brother and I had been sent to...
I never told anyone the whole story. Not even my wife, and we’ve been married for ten years. But the memory of that summer night in 2008 still claws at...
The old man who ran the corner tea stall called him the route-wallah, for Devraj always seemed to be tracing invisible paths in the air with his finger, mapping the...
I never believed in the supernatural until I started tagging along with my friend Aaron on his ‘consultations.’ Aaron has a gift, or a curse depending on how you see...
The day we moved into the farmhouse at the edge of the Sallow Flats, I thought the silence was a blessing. The previous owners had left a single wooden chair...
The house on Pillai Street was not the kind that whispered of ancient secrets; it was a modern, flat-roofed structure with clean lines and a small courtyard where a neem...
The town of Maheshpur, a knot of rust-red roofs and tamarind trees, lay under the weight of the monsoon. I was eleven, and my world was bounded by the lanes...
The house on Maplecrest Lane was my father’s pride, a sprawling two-story colonial he’d designed himself after years of supervising government projects. Every closet was a walk-in, every bathroom had...
The monsoon had just retreated, leaving the Western Ghats a bruised green, and the four of us—Rohan, Meera, Arjun, and I—needed a break. Our university in Pune had just ended...
The monsoon had reduced the Himalayan foothills to a wash of green and grey, but the Aravali Manse sat dry and defiant atop its ridge. I had come from the...
The first time I met Ananya, she was sketching the outline of a peacock feather on the dusty floor of a temple courtyard. It was monsoon season in the old...
In the autumn of 2005, my friend Elias, an engineer with a quiet gift for the unseen, received a call from an elderly couple, the Van der Meers, who lived...
The Havish family had always been pillars of the community in the small town of San Miguel, known for their devotion to the old ways. Their ancestral home, a sprawling...
The salt-crusted windows of the old lighthouse on Sentinel Island were rattling against the wind, and the November dusk was swallowing the harbor. For me, this lighthouse was home. I’d...
Three years ago, a handful of us from the university lit department decided to reunite at a crumbling coastal inn called The Gull’s Rest, perched on the storm-bitten cliffs of...
My mother never spoke of the winter of 1987 unless pressed. She would sit by the window, her fingers tracing the condensation on the glass, and the story would come...
Ten years ago, I was a sound engineer scraping by in the city of Bangalore, living in a crumbling colonial bungalow in the old Cantonment area. The building had been...
The city of Kolkata, in its humid and ancient embrace, had always felt like a maze to me. I had come to study at the university, and my maternal aunt,...
During my university years, I had to stay with my great-aunt in a bustling city. Due to limited space, I was given a small room on the rooftop. The lights...
In the summer of 1963, in the parched village of Kollapattu, a boy named Ravi was known for his iron nerve. While other children avoided the old cremation grounds beyond...
This is an account from my early days at sea. I was a junior officer on my first international voyage aboard the vessel named Sea Crest. Our entire crew was...
I was an apprentice on the freighter Halcyon Dawn, my first foreign voyage, hauling grain across the Atlantic to Trieste. The crew was a mixed lot, mostly from Kochi and...
Listening to the woods...
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