What are words worth?

I drink it all in greedily. The greens, the browns, the golds, the reds, and all those indescribable shades in between and beyond. And the blue, blue sky overhead. The nip in the air only serves to accentuate the sharpness of the colors, and adds a quickness to my step as I crunch across the leaf-strewn pathway of the arboretum. Arboretum: a place where trees and plants are grown to be studied or seen by the public (Merriam-Webster dictionary, online) I would amend that definition to include: a place that offers a sanctuary from the chaos and confusion and the intense pressure to achieve order that marks urban life. Of course, temples and spas also offer that. But you know what I mean. Chants and bells and low-key piped music and strange aromas do not quite match the abundance of the woods. Even if it is a cultivated copse ( not a typo, the r has no place in this wood/word ). I took a few hours off on what promised to be the last perfect day of the New England fall to find my

I’m not a voter in the United States, nor I am not a permanent resident. Yet I found myself caught up in the mania of the past several months and in the not-so-nail-biting finish in the early hours of Wednesday (Nov 9) morning. Now we’re all asking ourselves why and how no one saw it coming. Why the effects of income inequality and a certain kind of disenfranchisement or its perception—an even more invidious thing—could have escaped us, could have passed unseen by the mainstream media and the online echo chambers we find ourselves spending time in. So, back to that space between day and night on Wednesday. Even as I tried to sleep after the news of Florida broke, my daughter texted me from India, incredulous as she and my husband watched the result unfold in patches of red on television and laptop screen, augmented by the disbelief of commentators pointing at their magic screens. As for me, trying to get warm under a heavy quilt, my bleary eyes were locked on my phone, scrollin