Arvind Sen Part 1 – Boarding from the West October in New York is always sharper than one expects. The cold doesn’t announce itself in long winter winds but slips in with small betrayals—the sting in the air when you step out of the subway, the sudden bitterness of coffee that seemed warm enough just yesterday, the leaves crackling underfoot before their time. On the morning of my departure, I stood by my apartment window in Queens, suitcase zipped and waiting like an obedient child, and watched the early commuters hurry past in coats and scarves. Their world was turning…
