Speculation Nation.
The Crime We Consume. The ceiling fan at Aunt Selvi’s place didn’t just rotate; it fought for its life at speed number five, throwing down a steady thwack-thwack-thwack of warm, coastal air that smelled faintly of dry fish drying on the neighbor’s terrace and the sharp, sour hit of Udupi mattugulla brinjal bubbling in the kitchen. Outside, the monsoon was doing its typical Udupi number—loud,…














