Prakash Shukla was a man of quiet integrity, the kind of person who formed the backbone of the State Bank branch where he had worked for over twenty years. He was an honest clerk, a man whose ledger was always balanced and whose conscience was even clearer. However, in a world that increasingly measured a man’s worth by the designations of his children, Prakash often felt like a shadow among giants.The mid-day sun beat down on the bustling city, but inside the bank’s staff room, the atmosphere was thick with the aroma of homemade pickles and the sound of bragging.