Amit Bhattacharya Chapter 1: The Morning the Lights Died It was a Thursday morning like any other in the quiet neighbourhood of Lakshmi Niwas Cooperative Housing Society. The air was already heavy with humidity and promise—promise of yet another gloriously uneventful day. Birds chirped, autos honked, and pressure cookers whistled in unison like they’d all rehearsed a morning raga. In Flat 5C, Mr. Aniruddha Biswas stood in his kitchen, peering suspiciously into the refrigerator. He did this often—not because there was anything mysterious inside, but because at 64, routine was a sacred thing. Open fridge, scratch head, sigh dramatically. That…