Zoya woke up with a start. And for the first time in her life, she noticed something strange. The rain outside didn’t look like water. It looked like falling kohl. The old man selling chai on the corner—his shadow didn’t match his movements. And when she looked into her own bathroom mirror, her own eyes… for a split second… weren’t hers.
They were black. Infinite. Kaali. And they were smiling. yeh kaali kaali ankhein
Zoya had laughed at first. A ghost? In this economy? But then the eyes began bleeding into her waking hours. In the reflection of a tea stall’s steel kettle. In the glossy puddle on the stairs. In the unlit corner of her studio at 3 AM, when the city’s hum faded to a whisper. Zoya woke up with a start