Siddharth Menon 1 It was a Tuesday night in T. Nagar, but the heat clung to the crumbling walls of Flat 104 like a desperate tenant refusing eviction. The creaky ceiling fan spun half-heartedly, threatening to fall with every rotation, while four men lay in various stages of exhaustion and hopelessness across mismatched plastic chairs and a cushionless diwan. Arjun, or AJ as he insisted on being called, stared at the ceiling with the focus of a man calculating the philosophical purpose of unpaid rent. “Four days left before the landlord removes us like expired chutney,” he muttered. Karthik, perched…