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Houston’s late-summer heat can feel suffocating—thick air clinging to the skin, the city humming under streetlights. On one such night in August 2024, a brief, trembling phone call shattered that quiet. The building manager of a modest apartment complex near Texas Southern University picked up to hear a stranger’s voice: there was a dead body in his apartment. Moments later, he was standing in the doorway of a crime scene that would haunt an entire community. This is a case that would send shockwaves through Houston’s Nepali community, ignite an urgent manhunt, and unravel a story that touched on immigration, vulnerability, and predation. And at its heart was the life of a young woman who had crossed oceans to build a future—only to have it violently stolen. This is the story of that Texas evening, that phone call, that one girl. This is the story of Muna Pandey.

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Head over to your nearest book stores in India and pester the shopkeepers to buy the physical copy yourself.

If you’re an ABCD or NRI or just happen to be a lovely human being abroad, here are the links where you can get em:

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- UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/936113325X

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It was a freezing February night in upstate New York. Snowflakes swirled in the wind, settling over a quiet strip mall in the small town of Orchard Park. Inside one of the units — a modest television studio lined with bright posters and soft studio lights — two people stood on the brink of an ending. On paper, they were a power couple. He, a charismatic businessman from Pakistan. She, an architect with a sharp mind and a warm smile. Together, they had built America’s first English-language Muslim television network — a dream born in the wake of 9/11, a vision of countering stereotypes and celebrating community. But dreams can hide nightmares. Behind the glossy photos, the awards, the handshakes with community leaders, was a marriage on the brink of catastrophe. What happened next that chilly Friday would shock the nation, ignite debates about culture and religion, and leave an entire community questioning how well they really knew the people they celebrated. This is the story of Aasiya Zubair.

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In the early 90s, Bollywood crowned a new queen. At just 19, she was everywhere—on every poster, every magazine cover, every marquee. She was dazzling, unstoppable, and hungry to prove herself. A star so bright it felt like nothing could dim her light. But then, one night, it ended in a way no one saw coming. The industry went into shock. Fans demanded answers. Rumors exploded—about her marriage, about the people in her home that night, about secrets Bollywood still won’t discuss openly. Decades later, questions remain. Was it an accident? Was it something more sinister? Or was it the unbearable cost of fame at too young an age? This is the story of that star and that one night. This is the story of Divya Bharti.

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Under the soft July sun in Gurugram, as the kitchen clock ticked just past 10:30 a.m. on July 10, 2025, a quiet home in Sushant Lok echoed with gunfire. A promising young tennis coach, just 25, lay still on the kitchen floor—her dreams cut short in broad daylight. She had played for India. Coached the next generation. Laughed with friends hours before she died. And then—she was gone. No intruder broke in. No stranger fled the scene. The truth would unearth a betrayal far more devastating. This morning of unspeakable tragedy shattered a family, stunned a nation and ignited urgent conversation about autonomy, patriarchy, and violence against women. This is the story of that July morning and that one girl that has taken India by storm. This is the story of Radhika Yadav. 

He was young, brilliant, and fearless — an IIM grad who took a job no one wanted. One night, he vanished after a routine inspection in a small Indian town. What happened next would expose a chilling underworld no one was ready to face.

Today’s episode of The Desi Crime Podcast is powered by Ryze — a nicotine gum for those looking to quit: https://weryze.com

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Dharmasthala, Karnataka. For centuries, its name has meant justice. It's a place where faith feels tangible, a sanctuary where a Hindu deity is served by a Jain family in a rare show of harmony. But in July of 2025, a story would emerge that threatened to turn this sacred ground into a crime scene. A story that suggests for years, while pilgrims prayed for salvation, others were being buried in shallow graves. It began when one man decided he could no longer carry the weight of what he had done, and what he had seen. A man who claimed that he held the key to over one hundred unsolved deaths. This is the story of the skeletons of Dharmasthala.

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The case that I have for you guys today is one that sent Pakistani authorities on the largest manhunt for Pakistan's most notorious serial killer. This is the story of a man whose only motive in life was to hear the cries of a hundred mothers. This is the story of Javed Iqbal.

Under the soft orange wash of a Rishikesh dusk, the air held its breath. A girl, nineteen, bright-eyed, new to the city and newer still to her first job, walked the narrow paths of Vanantra Resort, hemmed in by forest on one side and the rush of the Ganga canal on the other. It was the kind of evening where the world feels hushed, the kind where ordinary things--like a phone ringing unanswered or a light flickering on and off--begin to feel loaded with meaning. And for days after that dusk, the only thing louder than the silence surrounding her absence was the rising voice of a father searching for his daughter, denied help at every turn. No FIR. No urgency. Just a closed door at every police station he visited. The roads he walked were met with apathy, even as each hour that passed pulled Ankita further from reach. By the time the news broke, it had already been six days. Six days of unanswered questions. Six days of phone calls met with lies. Six days before the Ganga revealed what the system tried to bury. This is the story of that Rishikesh resort, that 2022 evening, and that girl. This is the story of Ankita Bhandari.

A chill wind whispered through the sugarcane fields of Uttar Pradesh, carrying with it the scent of rigid traditions belonging to a bygone era. In villages where life moved with the seasons and ancient customs held strong, a new tension was starting to build. For generations, the idea of freedom for women, the freedom to choose, to be, to experience the world around them as men would, was a forbidden thought, a dangerous secret. But in 2014, as the world outside moved faster, even these quiet places began to feel a tremor of defiance. It was a time when a simple phone could open up a world of possibilities, and with it, a rush of fear and anger. In a world desperate to control, some dared to dream of freedom, and for two young girls, that dream would become a terrible nightmare. This is the story of that little village in Uttar Pradesh and its open fields. This is the story of Padma and Lalli.