Arvind Malhotra The Arrival The bus from Delhi shuddered as it wound its way along the serpentine mountain road, the Beas river glinting like a steel blade far below. Arjun Malhotra sat by the window, notebook on his lap, watching the snowy ridges of Kullu rise into sight. Winter here wasn’t like the polite chill of Delhi—it was sharp, biting, and unrelenting. He pulled his muffler tighter but his eyes were alive with purpose. He wasn’t here to admire landscapes. He was chasing a story most people had chosen to ignore. The first whisper had come in an email—anonymous, unsigned.…