“She rides home through Nigdi's chaotic streets — autorickshaws honking, street vendors selling bhel, the smell of frying pakoras from the stall near the bus stop. She's lived in Nigdi for six years, ever since her family moved from Jharkhand. She's Bengali but she doesn't feel Bengali most of the time. She feels like a Punekar. She knows which chaat stall has the best dahi puri. She knows which roads flood during monsoon. She knows the city in her bones.”