Rima Chatterjee The First Chill The fog hung low over Delhi like a soft, worn shawl. The streets of Connaught Place were still waking up, the shops pulling up shutters slowly, as if in no hurry to face the cold. Anaya clutched her oversized wool scarf tighter, her gloved fingers tingling despite the warmth of her coffee cup. It was her second week in Delhi. The city had greeted her with shivers, smoky skies, and a strange sort of stillness. It wasn’t the kind of winter she had grown up with in Kolkata—this was quieter, grayer, full of mystery. And…