The Sweet Spot

“What’s up with the orange ribbon on your mailbox post?” I was glad for the question, as that was precisely the purpose of the tied up piece of ribbon.  The Orange Ribbon Campaign , a student led initiative started by the Luce family of Boxborough, amplified by AB Together Against Hate and AB United Way (ABUW), is a show of support and solidarity towards Black, Indigenous and People of Color communities. Recently two Black members of our town school committee experienced blatant racial attacks with use of slurs - on two separate occasions - during meetings held over zoom. There has been a widespread support for the orange ribbon initiative. “We realize that a ribbon campaign will not change hearts and minds or discriminatory practices, but we hope to amplify the many voices and groups that need to be heard” states the campaign. When a member of our community, Ananya Rao , reached out for 20 volunteers, the spots were full within no time. I was motivated by the fact that the ribbon wo

Six years ago, after completing his business degree (BBA), a young apprentice started his business journey in the newly inaugurated family garment store called Youth Junction. There was excitement around this new store in the small farming community of Timarni, Madhya Pradesh, India. Now fashion-seeking youngsters did not have to make a four hour hike to nearby cities of Bhopal or Indore for trendy outfits. For the Gadres, especially Siddharth, Youth Junction is a bold endeavor; a family dream come true. Siddharth has been managing the store with his Dad, Upendra, for the past six years. On first meeting, Siddharth comes across as a shy youth, but once you get to know him better, he has much to share with you. Siddharth is an iron-willed lionheart. For the past 25 years, after thousands of physical therapy sessions; after a couple of surgeries and years of medical intervention; after trying out every other alternative medicine like homeopathy and ayurvedic, he says he has developed a

It was Mother’s Day, 2020. The one mile loop in our small community carried an unusual sight - a parade of cars - which had nothing to do with Mothers Day.  Right in the middle of the pandemic in May, the long line of cars, bumper to bumper, each carrying banners thanking doctors, healthcare professionals and scientists for their incredible contribution during the deadly pandemic which had been creating havoc worldwide as well as in all our lives. Some cars were decorated with balloons, confetti and ribbons, with kids peeking out of the open sunroofs, waving and honking as they passed each doctor’s home. In the unprecedented times, when covid was etching its place in history, storming in unannounced, and leaving behind death, destruction and devastation in its wake, this was our show of solidarity as a community, our safe way to express gratitude. While the news media was filled with stories about losses of life to the illness and morbid statistics, we were cooped up in our homes prayi

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