How We Continue Given enough time away, the tiny suburb of Flower Mound, Texas, could be an idyllic place. As I drove into town, the familiar rows of trees near home cast little shadow in the May morning. Meticulously maintained roads, without sign of fallen leaves, led to my street…

Harvard, Cancel Culture, and Narrowing Possibilities in America — I. Doubts Come in Grey On winter mornings over the 2 years I spent in graduate school, I often awoke to a greyness common in Boston. Within the dorm, which had all the charm of Soviet-era tenements, a singular, destitute corner window provided the morning light. When it seeped through on the coldest mornings in…

Buddy’s car raced along the highways towards the laundromat. Patches of unadulterated green grass spilled off the ends of highway bridges, only to be stopped by suburban sprawl. As Buddy drove off the highway, he passed by one of his favorite spots in Plano, a fenced-off patch of grass where…

“Why aren’t you picking up my calls?” Buddy’s mom answered his call with an attitude. “Just been busy with a case, amma.” “What about the last three days?” “Can’t you start a conversation with ‘How are you’ for once?” “What did you eat for lunch?” “Chicken and rice”, he lied. …

His head was pounding. No, he heard pounding on the door. Ok,both. You gotta be joking, he thought, it’s Sunday. He grumbled and accepted the fate of his rude awakening. He shouted “Coming!” but it came out as a mumble. He gathered his vocal strength. “Coming! Just a sec!” …

Written January 2019 I went to Sabarimala in December of 2009. I was a college freshman, sporting unseemly peach fuzz on my upper lip. My father and I boarded a train to Kerala. He was in māla, the term we used for men who practiced 40 days of austerity in…