A conversation in America: Part - I

The Harvard Club of New York City stands unassumingly at 35 West 44th Street, its brick façade blending seamlessly with the surrounding Midtown Manhattan architecture. The rich scent of aged wood permeates the air, and portraits of renowned alumni gaze down from walls that have witnessed more truth spoken than in any legislative chamber.

Some days ago, I sat at an elegantly set table for eight in the club’s stately dining hall, hosting an eclectic mosaic of political affiliations: staunch Republicans, committed Democrats, and several centrists like me who had supported candidates across party lines over the years based on individual merit and values – a stance that appeared to bewilder our companions, who had never ventured beyond their political tribe. I had the least grey hair among us, but perhaps the most to learn.

The evening began on a lighter note when an outspoken actress and activist across the table launched into a passionate discourse about personal pronouns and initiatives to recognise gender identity in train travel. “It’s about inclusivity and acknowledging the full spectrum of human experience,” she argued, her eyes alight with conviction. Seeking to inject a bit of levity, I quipped, “What if someone wants to identify as a train?” A ripple of laughter spread around the table – tentative and cautious. Even light-hearted comments now carried the weight of potential offence.

The scene captured perfectly how the left’s politics have morphed into ideological overreach, where their truth must be everyone’s truth, dissent is heresy, and everyone competes for the crown of the most aggrieved. On the other side, the right seems to think that if they squint hard enough, they can pretend it is still 1952, yearning for a Norman Rockwell past that was never as perfect as they remember.

Yet, sitting there at our table, watching ideological enemies break bread together, I observed how Americans, in their private lives, could still navigate contentious topics with a measure of grace that seemed absent from public discourse.

The veteran politician seated to my left – who had known me for years and was a maternal figure in my life – rested a familiar hand on my shoulder. “So”, she asked, eyes twinkling with satirical mischief, “what do you think of Trump’s second coming so far?”

I considered her question carefully, aware that my response would set the tone for what promised to be a spirited exchange. “The president’s second act has revealed something few expected”, I replied. “He’s emerging as a pragmatist with centrist appeal, wrapped in populist rhetoric but focused on practical priorities. In many ways, he’s answering a question many Americans have quietly been asking: What if the only way to defuse our political extremes was to elect someone equally distrusted by both?”

A TV journalist, known for her leanings towards the right, at the far end of the table leaned forward. “That’s an interesting framing,” she said contemplatively. “Isn’t it more that the media caricatured him as a hard-right ideologue, while his actual governance has always been more transactional than ideological? It was pragmatic centrism masked in MAGA colours.”

“Most telling is his present stance on abortion”, added the politician. “Publicly distancing himself from federal bans, urging states to decide – an unmistakable signal to suburban moderates that ideological purity wouldn’t override political reality.” I leaned in, contributing thoughtfully, “POTUS’s defiance of both Republican orthodoxy and progressive dogma – however chaotic – offers an unexpected kind of equilibrium.”

“Speaking of Trump”, a diplomat at the table remarked with polished calm, "his intervention in the recent India-Pakistan conflict was remarkable. His ability to secure a ceasefire within hours when tensions were at their highest demonstrates a diplomatic touch few credited him with possessing.”

The actress sighed theatrically. “Or perhaps he’s simply claiming credit where none is due. What we witnessed was the usual reflexive deference to American power, not some newfound diplomatic finesse.”

The journalist shot back, her tone edged with disagreement. “India’s in uproar. They say he’s re-hyphenated India and Pakistan – internationalised Kashmir. This is classic Trump, bulldozing through a diplomatic taboo like that. Rubio or Vance would’ve poll-tested it first." The table burst into immediate laughter.

As it quieted, I nodded in agreement and added, “That Indian critique misses the forest for the foliage. To argue that external engagement ‘re-hyphenates’ India and Pakistan is to confuse diplomatic optics with geopolitical reality. Whether internationalised or not is beside the point – Kashmir is not a PR problem, it’s a political and human rights one. A dispute that has triggered wars and destabilised the region for decades cannot be wished away by strategic silence or rhetorical sovereignty.”

The diplomat nodded grimly. “Mountbatten – that preening colonial peacock who carved nations with the casual arrogance of a man slicing dessert, more concerned with his summer plans than the fate of millions. Fourteen weeks in 1947, seventy-eight years of fallout.” He shook his head ruefully. “The embers he scattered in pursuit of petty vanity and favour still smoulder in Kashmir today, claiming lives with methodical regularity.”

“The historical context notwithstanding”, a tech entrepreneur countered, his voice hardening, “Pakistan has been fuelling the fire of insurgency in Kashmir for decades." I pushed back, my tone restrained but firm. “Let’s not pretend Pakistan radicalised Kashmir. When you blind children with pellet guns, when you deny families the right to bury their dead, when you brutally strip a people of autonomy and identity – what follows isn’t loyalty. It’s resistance. Somehow, the lives lost there and the terrorism the Indian state enforces never get the attention in world media they deserve. The outrage is curated, the principles disposable, and the silence deafening when the facts don’t serve the narrative.”

The tech entrepreneur cleared his throat. "Come on. Pakistan has had a historic link with terrorism. Where was Osama bin Laden found?” Before I could get a word in, the journalist responded – almost immediately, with practised ease. “To be fair, he was a Frankenstein created in CIA labs.”

“Exactly”, I said, gesturing toward her. “Osama didn’t grow out of Pakistani soil; he arrived as the residue of Western policy, and Pakistan has been left to deal with the fallout to this day. Pakistan has lost a lot fighting America’s wars.”

The politician, ever the pragmatic conciliator, leaned in to offer a closing reflection. “Remember when Reagan welcomed the ancestors of the Taliban to the White House – and anointed them as freedom fighters? Yesterday’s freedom fighter can become today’s terrorist. Times change. Policies flip. People trade sides.” A brief silence settled over the table.

The tech entrepreneur – clearly passionate and still eager to advocate for India – tapped the table lightly, signalling he still had something to add. “Let’s not forget India is our only strategic counter against China”, he said, his voice rising. “A natural partner, a democracy, an economic engine – our best hope in the Indo-Pacific.”

The journalist arched a brow. “A democracy that assassinates critics on foreign soil, strives to establish racial and religious supremacy, and a media ecosystem completely corrupted by Modi’s militant nationalism?” she fired back, her voice smooth but unsparing. “India talks like an ally but acts like a transactional middleman – soaking up trade concessions, ignoring US priorities, and feeding its people flag-wrapped fantasies while sending the surplus through our backdoor. Let’s not forget: Indians now make up the third-largest group of undocumented immigrants in the US. How does a country that boasts such a ‘booming economy’ send so many illegals our way?”

She paused, letting her words land before continuing. “That’s what sets Trump apart. He’s not charmed by slogans or swayed by pageantry. He sees the imbalance clearly – and he’s not afraid to recalibrate. Friendship doesn’t mean indulgence. It means expectations, honesty, and results. That’s how you turn a feel-good alliance into a real one.”

Just when the table seemed to settle, the hardest subject arrived.

To be continued...

The writer is an entrepreneur living in the United States and the United Kingdom. He can be reached at: sar@aya.yale.edu