Aanya Dasgupta Part 1: The First Drizzle It wasn’t raining yet, not exactly. The sky was still in negotiation, heavy with clouds that hadn’t quite made up their mind. Nia sat by the window of a narrow Hauz Khas café, her fingers curled around a mug of lukewarm coffee, staring absently at her laptop screen. The jazz playing overhead was faint, the kind that seemed to belong in another decade, but it fit the dim light and cracked wooden tables. Her document was open but untouched. She was supposed to be working on a cover design for a new historical…