Maharathi Debdutt saw the hennaed foot, dainty, as the passenger stepped off the palanquin. Then the wheel went over it....
Zafar Anjum
The sulphur gas hissed and smoke was issuing every few metres from the porous rocks. The clouds churned in the...
They said the fog was made of the tears of the old soldiers, those who left the town to make...
By Mitali Chakravarty Shweta Taneja's story named as pre-finalist in French Grand Prix de l'Imaginaire The Best Asian Speculative Fiction...
Tia’s eyes fluttered open. She looked about herself— blinking at the bright blue sky. Where was she? A town square...
When she walked into the room, every eye in that place rested on her, as though she was a magnet...
Anuradha Kumar, the author of Coming Back to the City, Mumbai Stories, in conversation with Mitali Chakravarty Anuradha Kumar has...
Translated by Abhisek Sarkar Chhabi has expired. Chhabila died close to day break. She had been choked to death. Her...
The man trudged up the red mud lane carrying a rucksack on his back and a tin trunk in one...
Gopuji tore away the blanket. His shirt was drenched in sweat. He dragged himself out of bed. When he foamed...
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