The afternoon sun filtered through the dusty windows of Café Chaiwala, a modest bustling spot. The air smelled of masala chai, fried samosas, and the faint sweat of overworked staff. Aaira, a 22-year-old waitress with a slender figure, long black hair tied in a messy ponytail, and large innocent eyes, moved between tables in her tight black uniform skirt and white blouse. The skirt barely reached mid-thigh, and the top hugged her full breasts a little too closely — management’s choice, not hers.

“Order ready, table 4,” the head waiter, Rajesh, barked from the kitchen pass.