India, July 10 -- I like to tell real-life stories, even in columns that address universal themes, because that's where the true pulse of human experience lies. That's where we find meaning - and, more often than not, a mirror. The resonance of my encounters, and those of people I meet along the way, is what keeps my writing rooted in authenticity.
Perhaps it helps readers navigate the maze of my reflections and opinions, too. So here's a tiny but poignant tale from my travel diary, penned during recent wanderings. It was the morning after we checked into a snazzy hotel in Chicago for a family weekend getaway. The room bell buzzed, and I opened the door to be greeted by Elsa (name changed), her smile, warm but weighed down by the burden of...