A sunny Friday morning in May. It is only nine o’clock, yet the heat is already oppressive. Kolkata, the City of Joy, simmers under the early summer sun. The streets are alive with movement—office-goers huff and puff, jostling for space in overcrowded private and state-run buses. The honking of yellow taxis blends with the distant wail of trains, creating a symphony of the city’s relentless energy. Soumen works at a small sales firm near Golpark. He is twenty-eight, living with his parents in a modest rented apartment near the 8B bus stand in Jadavpur. Today, he has overslept until eight, awakened only after his mother’s shrill shouts pierced the air, as if she were tearing the roof apart. “Soumen! Wake up! You are late again!” she yelled, pounding on the wooden door. His job demands daily door-to-door visits, exhausting both body and mind. He has been searching for a better…