“Eureka!” An exclamation of triumph reverberates through the empty library of the Asiatic Society in Park Street. The whitewashed walls glare back in silence, reprimanding the speaker for shouting in a place where whispering is the norm. The speaker blushes momentarily for his sudden outburst, looking around hurriedly to see if anyone else witnessed his lapse in judgment. He takes out his notebook and scribbles down details from the open page of the manuscript he’d been reading for the last few hours. The manuscript is ancient, dating back to the pre-colonial era, and special permission was required to access it. Its pages are ancient and worn out, but most of its text is still legible. Once the writing is complete, the speaker of the triumphant exclamation hands over the book to the security guard outside and heads for the exit. He calls a cab and gets into the back seat,…