Nandini Rao Part 1: The Meeting The streets of Bangalore pulsed with monsoon chaos that evening, headlights blurred by sheets of rain, the smell of roasted corn mixing with the damp asphalt. Somewhere in Basavanagudi, the old temple had strung marigolds along its towering gopuram, orange and yellow flames bright against the grey sky. A small crowd was gathering for the annual festival. Amid the drizzle and the scattered stalls selling jasmine garlands, a few young women rehearsed under the portico of the temple, their anklets chiming, faces streaked with raindrops and stubborn determination. Meera Iyer stood at the center,…