Maya Sen Part 1 — The Departure The morning I left, the city was still half-asleep, a pale wash of yellow light stretching over cracked pavements and shuttered tea stalls. My backpack, slung awkwardly over one shoulder, seemed heavier with every step I took, not because of the clothes and notebooks packed inside but because of the invisible weight of hesitation. I had never truly left home before—yes, there had been short trips to the mountains or the sea, always with family or friends, but never like this, never with no return ticket, never with the open road stretching like…