Manav Chouhan Chapter 1: The Letter from Chowk The rain had barely stopped drumming against the windows when Meher Chaudhary found the envelope waiting on the windowsill of her Delhi studio, damp but intact, as though it had arrived with the storm itself. Its paper was of an oddly antique texture—off-white and fibrous, sealed with wax that bore an insignia she didn’t recognize. Her name was written in precise Devanagari script, the kind used in legal documents a century ago. Curious and mildly amused, she opened it, half-expecting an invitation to an art exhibition or a forgotten commission. But the…