Drishan Nnaskar 1 The dawn broke over Kolkata with a muted hush, as though the city itself was reluctant to wake. From the eastern bank of the Hooghly, the mist still clung to the river like an old, grey shawl, and the metallic silhouette of Howrah Bridge loomed above, carrying the rumble of early trams and the shuffle of weary commuters. Fishermen pushed out their boats, calling softly to one another, while stray dogs barked at the rising sun. It was one of these fishermen who first saw the shape drifting in the water, just below the shadow of the…