“The meeting was the weekly review — the two-hour, every-Monday, death-by-PowerPoint ritual that Indian corporates had perfected into an art form of collective time-waste. Fourteen people in a glass-walled conference room on the twelfth floor, the Gurugram skyline grey with smog behind them, the projector showing slides that Ananya had prepared and that Vikram Mehta would present as his own with the specific, practised, seamless credit-theft of a man who had built his career on the labour of people too polite to object.”