Karan Mehta The Road Begins in Mumbai The smell of old books and rain hung in the air of Arjun’s flat as he sealed the last cardboard box. It was strange how quickly a life could pack itself away—eight years of a job, two failed relationships, a pile of unread journals, and a dog who never left his side. Simba watched quietly from his corner, tail swishing slowly across the tile. The golden retriever was almost six, with a slight limp in his left leg from a puppyhood injury. Arjun liked to think that limp made Simba more human, more…