Diganta Deka The monsoon descended upon the small riverside town with an unrelenting fervor, turning the earth into a mosaic of muddy puddles and swollen streams. The sky, a heavy slate of gray, spilled sheets of rain that drummed ceaselessly on tin roofs and rusted verandas. The Brahmaputra, already a commanding presence in the town’s life, grew into a roaring giant, its waters rising swiftly, tugging at the banks and swallowing the familiar outlines of the ghats. Life moved at a subdued pace; boats bobbed restlessly, fishermen mended their nets under dripping tarpaulins, and the scent of wet earth mingled…