prxttylxlies

Calcutta, 1941.
          
          The city was a storm waiting to break. It whispered secrets through the rustling leaves of the banyan trees, hid conspiracies in the ink-stained fingers of revolutionaries, and carried the scent of rebellion in the air thickened with the promise of war.
          
          In a dimly lit room, three women sat together-Anokhi, Adhriti, and Aira-their voices hushed yet urgent, their hearts pounding with a cause greater than themselves. They did not wield guns or swords, but something far more dangerous-defiance.
          
          They would write.
          
          They would fight.
          
          And they would not break.
          
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