The Sweet Spot

Amanita Muscaria aka Fly agaric has been the most glamorized, romanticized mushroom, with its bright red cap embellished with white spots standing on an elegant white stem, featured in fairy tales that mesmerize young minds clueless of its psychedelic properties. So it was no surprise that while still in single digits, one of my dreams was to walk the woods looking for this enchanting organism which was responsible for Alice (in Wonderland) being able to alter her size with just a bite. These fantastical mushrooms, sprawled in a bright red, eye-catching colony while the formidable, powerful Baba Yaga in Russian folklore flies over! As a child my imagination and curiosity saw no bounds, wanting to enter that ecosystem, to emerge in that dream world.   Even though I had a distant dream and fascination, I can’t exactly call myself a mycophile. My connection to wild mushrooms resurfaced due to a quirky tradition that evolved organically within a hiking group that I am a part of. This is

Long commutes to work were never my favorite. When left with no choice, I preferred driving through the quiet, picturesque New England inroads than the stressful commute of high speed, congested highways to get to work. During election season I noticed these inroads were lined with lawn signs supporting this candidate or that other one. Some candidates, those running at the national level, or a few at the state level, looked familiar. But there were other names on the signs that were always unfamiliar, invariably supporting a Town Selectman. Having been raised in India, I was aware of municipalities, but the title of ‘Selectman’ looked new and always caught my attention and curiosity. Though eager to learn about local government, at that time I was too caught up with a busy tech job and family, that there was never enough time to learn. Incidentally, after moving to a town where the residents are the town government legislative branch and where budgets/ policies are passed within a To

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

The arena was bustling with energy; echoing with youthful chatter and laughter over the lively garba music and the rhythmic beats of dandia. College students of all ethnicities were dressed in finest kurtas, lehengas, ghagras and chaniya-cholis, dupattas and shawls in exotic designs. The colors and patterns were so brilliant that it felt like they had borrowed the vibrant autumn hues of reds, yellows, oranges and the remaining bit of green from the New England Fall outdoors and added to their already spectacular palette! Beautiful young students dancing and twirling and maneuvering the two large concentric circles, their prettified dandiya sticks matching the beats as they moved gracefully around a majestic image of Goddess Durga slaying the demon Mahishasura. The scene reminded me of my teenage years - different country, different generation, different population - yet the same nine magical nights of Navratri! The chilly, yet festive evening was a reminder that colder weather and shor

I settled down on the couch by the fireplace, wrapping myself with a warm blanket and a mug of hot ginger tea in hand, when my whatsapp notification dinged with a photo of my cousin Seema, receiving a trophy for a marathon run. Before I had a chance to read the details, our dog Smokey started pawing me vigorously - his unwavering, piercing stare reminding me that it was time for his walk. Six o’clock on a dark, cold, winter evening isn’t my favorite time to walk. However, it can be very difficult to explain to a dog, eager for his evening walk, about the lethargy of a cold, winter evening, that us humans experience. With the image of my marathoner cousin in the back of my head, and the love for my demanding doggie, I quickly gulped down the tea, admonishing Smokey to be patient.  Following the advice of a good friend, who was a dog owner before us, “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes”, I layered myself with warm clothing, ready to face the bitter wind chill outdo

This summer, “staycation” assumed a whole new meaning. Our backyard, with the newly installed Glenfeeder , opened our world to the exciting activity of a variety of New England birds. Within a couple of days of putting the bird feed out, there had been enough communication for the birds to start trickling in. We observed their patterns and slowly learned the best visitation times. We parked ourselves by the window when they visited and as time went by some birds were bold enough to visit even as we sat, not too far away, on the deck. I had never imagined birds would have so much personality, and even attitudes! We even ended up naming a few. Goldfinch            Black & White Chickadee House finch First we got the sparrows, and the warblers and the finches. Then one day we observed an unusual phenomenon. A big, fat, fluffy, grey bird sat plopped on the edge of our deck, away from the bird feeder; and a much smaller sparrow flew back and forth feeding this bird. The sparrow did not