Pritam Mehta Chapter 1 The morning began with the sharp clanking of steel utensils and the hiss of a pressure cooker — routine sounds in the Pradhan household — but this time, there was something different in the air. Madhuri Pradhan stood in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips, eyes fixed on the old brown sofa like a general inspecting a battlefield. Its once-beige upholstery was now a tapestry of curry stains, dog hair, and timeworn sagging. One of its wooden legs had been replaced with a stack of old Amar Chitra Katha comics and the…