Prashant Tiwari was the kind of man no one noticed.In a city like Mumbai, where people rushed faster than local trains and dreams were bigger than skyscrapers, Prashant lived a simple, predictable life. Every day followed the same pattern—wake up, drink tea, complain about traffic, and teach students who were more interested in their phones than in “Properties of Air.”“Focus, class!” he would say, tapping the board. “Air is a mixture of gases.”A student at the back whispered, “So is pollution, sir.”The class laughed.Prashant sighed. Teaching Class 7 was less about science and more about survival.That evening seemed like any