The Sweet Spot

Our glasses clinked in a virtual toast over zoom, in a gathering of like-minded Americans on the blue side of the “divide”, eager to see a change, to celebrate new leadership in the White House. We were a group of Indian women who have made a mark outside our homes, mostly in STEM fields. Leadership in Politics is a very different ballgame, with very different challenges. It isn’t everyday that we see a woman - of Indian descent, crossing all hurdles to climb up so high. It is a matter of great pride to see the many firsts in this election. We wanted to share our expectations from the new administration. Someone said, “Nothing profound ...looking for a straightforward change - a President who doesn’t lie (to our faces).” “The country needs to heal”, said another friend, others adding that the country divided for political gain needs to be unified. On the eve of the news of a Biden-Harris victory, I experienced a shared sense of pride so intense, I could feel it in the air beyond the li

I woke to the calm rhythm of the trees swaying to the summer breeze and took in one deep, refreshing breath, as the cool gentle breeze brushed past my face. As a matter of habit, and a part of a mindfulness exercise called pranayama, I took in a couple more deep breaths. This kind of breathing is normally a great start for my day. I ordinarily continue with a few more minutes of breathing, which leaves me feeling energized by the sequence of the deliberate exercises. I can focus my rested, ready mind towards the day’s events and intended tasks. But that morning my mind was restless with the thought of how a fellow human being had been deprived of the very breath that I was taking for granted as a part of my existence. The vision of the man imploring his captors, who held him in a chokehold, “I can’t breathe”! And right there, for millions to see, the very people who are meant to protect civilians, deprived him of the precious breath he needed to stay alive. I was engulfed in the

The Difficult Choice : From Politics to ice-cream I walked past Trumpland, the big chain store, which had a new flavor advertised on the window. “Go Bananas” with our “Monkey Chunky Banana” flavor! I had gone down that door once just to check it out. It was disappointing. They really only had one flavor - a rather murky looking Vanilla with an orange tint. Every week they introduced a new topping. Then they would go big on advertising and many people would swarm to it.  I was loyal to the local store, DemCream, at the end of the street. They had a rich variety of flavors before, but since the chain store opened, it had been difficult for them to maintain their flavors. I could already taste my favorite flavor, “Kosher Koffee Delight”. It was an acquired taste, with its smooth blend of nuanced flavors. I could, of course, taste the coffee with its perfect blend of bitter and sweet. There was a hint of rock salt and just enough cinnamon. The almonds gave it enough texture to rem

The Sweet Spot within the chaos of the Iowa Caucuses “Oh my God! Oh my God!! They called me back and I really want to go to Iowa”. Ever since my sweet, nonconformist daughter decided she wanted to take a Gap year before going to college - a concept alien to many desi* parents - I always sat on the edge of my seat to grasp what was coming next. So far, she had worked as a refugee resettlement intern, helping new entrants to the country find a foothold. She worked at the local cafe, learning coffee brews, chai lattes, taking breakfast and lunch orders and being patient with sometimes irate customers. And her favorite job had been walking and caring for rather rambunctious dogs. Just when I thought things were falling neatly in place, I hear Iowa.  She was very very excited to spend the coldest months campaigning in the cold, midwest state of Iowa. Again a concept alien to a desi parent. Campaigning for a “caucus”! The first time I had heard the word, I thought it was a fun