Ananya Roy Letters from Gariahat Ananya Roy The Bookstore on Rashbehari Avenue The rain had begun without warning, as it often did in Kolkata—one moment the pavement breathing dust, the next washed clean by a sky that had decided to intervene. Ishaan slowed his steps near Rashbehari Avenue, not because he feared the rain, but because he had nowhere urgent to be. His documentary proposal had been rejected that morning with a polite email that spoke of promise and future possibilities, two words that had lately begun to feel like soft refusals dressed as hope. He ducked into the first…
