The night Anwesha Sen vanished began like so many ordinary evenings in Kolkata’s monsoon season, with laughter echoing from cafés, headlights streaking down rain-slicked roads, and young voices carrying on late into the night. At seventeen, Anwesha was at that tender age balanced between recklessness and restraint, a girl whose smile disarmed her strict schoolteachers and whose confident stride often made her friends feel she was the leader of every outing. That night, she and her circle of friends drifted from a small café in Park Street to a club tucked into one of Ballygunge’s quieter lanes, a place where…