Divya Srivatsav 1 The storm had been brewing all evening, and by the time the call came in, the skies over Mumbai had split open, unleashing a torrent that turned streets into rivers and the sea into a boiling monster that battered the shoreline. Ananya Sen arrived at Juhu’s elite neighborhood drenched but unflinching, her notebook and recorder protected under a plastic folder she carried everywhere during monsoon assignments. The bungalow, looming against the furious waves, stood like a stubborn relic, its sea-facing verandah lit by dim yellow lamps that flickered each time lightning ripped across the sky. Crowds of…