The Distant Metropolis
Act I Padma Chatterjee stood in the rain-slicked alley behind the chawl, watching the water level rise against the brickwork, and knew with a cold, mechanical certainty that he had failed to save the one thing that mattered. He was thirty years old, a senior inspector in the Mumbai police force, and his hands, which had held rifles and handcuffs for a decade, were now trembling with a fever...
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