The decline of the Haveli didn't arrive with the sudden strike of a thunderbolt; it was more like a slow, agonizing drip of sand through an hourglass, steady and unstoppable. It manifested in the small, heartbreaking details of daily life. The morning tea, once rich with the aroma of fresh, thick cream from the family's own dairy, now smelled faintly of scorched leaves and watered-down milk. The grand hallways, which had echoed for generations with the bustling footsteps of a dozen servants, felt hollowed out and ghostly.

Baba Sa had started letting go of the staff, beginning with the oldest ones who had served his own father. He did it quietly, under the guise of their well-deserved retirement, but the empty corridors told a different story. The family business, once the undisputed heartbeat of the entire region, was suffering from a rot that was eating it from the inside out. Baba Sa's stubborn refusal to modernize was the catalyst, but Khanna's systematic, quiet sabotage was the fuel that was turning the legacy to ash.