The rain had started at 3:17 a.m.Not outside.Inside her room.Suhani sat cross-legged on the floor of her tiny apartment in Delhi, candles flickering around her. Her palms hovered over an old silver bowl filled with water. She wasn’t a therapist. Not exactly. She wasn’t a priest either.People called her an energy reader.People came to her when nightmares became unbearable… when grief sat on their chest… when doctors said stress and the soul said something else.Tonight’s client lived 6,700 kilometers away.Dhruv Khanna.A wealthy tech investor in London who hadn’t slept peacefully in two years.His assistant had booked the session. “He suffers