Shibam Iyer 1 The train slowed as it entered Alappuzha, the rhythmic clatter of wheels softening into a crawl. Ananya leaned closer to the window, her eyes tracing the sight of endless coconut groves swaying gently in the late afternoon breeze, their reflections shimmering across the sprawling backwaters. The air outside looked different, thicker almost, carrying the sheen of humidity and the fragrance of wet earth that no city could ever imitate. As the train screeched to a halt, she stepped down with a deep breath, as though she were inhaling her own past. The station was small, familiar, yet…