Niharika Sen 1 The sky over Delhi had been sulking since morning, draped in heavy grey clouds that threatened to spill at any moment. Connaught Place bustled beneath it, the circular heart of the capital moving in its usual rhythm—cars honking in chorus, office-goers pacing down colonnades, street vendors shouting their evening rates, and college students lazing on the central park’s damp benches. It was somewhere between four and five in the afternoon when the skies gave in. First, a misty drizzle, then sheets of warm rain fell, catching the crowd mid-stride. People ducked under awnings, ducked into cafés, and…
