Thamel is in full voice. The streets shout, scooters argue, cables sag and tangle themselves into incomprehensible knots. When the city swells to that pitch, I seek refuge. I look for bookshops the way others look for chai. A quiet banner interrupts the commotion: Pilgrims Book Shop. A fitting name for one who feels like a pilgrim in a marketplace that needs rescuing. I slip…