From Jersey to Washington, With Love

Hey, so. I have a favor to ask. No, don’t worry, you don’t have to get naked or sing, or be naked while singing. You don’t have to cook or clean. Nothing hard at all. See, doesn’t that put things into perspective? I am going to ask you to do something which does not involve nudity, singing, cooking or cleaning.

Sounds like a decent gig to me.

I am putting an entry in for a contest over at Indiblogger.com, a blog community for Indian bloggers like me, or others who live in India. They are putting together the top 300 submissions, which will also be evaluated by how many votes/likes they get. The submission has to be 500 words and serves as a “teaser” for the short story they might later ask me to submit if I make the top 300. That will be a LOT more words (Maybe 3500?).

Could you maybe go to the Indiblogger site and click like?

Could you maybe even ask a friend who you think might like the idea to like it?

The winning stories will ultimately be published in a anthology/collection from Indian authors on love and will be published by Harper Collins.

Thanks for your support. And thanks to Renee at http://rasjacobson.com for making me think it might be something worth reading.

And if you know any friends who might want to participate, encourage them to enter as well.

*****************************************************

The flight from Newark, NJ to Washington, DC looks like it’s finally done boarding. I’m in the window seat ready to place my jacket on what appears to be an empty aisle seat. One of the last passengers to board the plane, an elegant Indian woman whom I judge to be in her fifties, stops alongside my seat.

“I think that’s my seat,” she says, smiling.

“Of course,” I say, placing the jacket back on my lap.

It’s a short flight from Newark to the Dulles Airport. I’ve been up in New Jersey, making last minute arrangements for my wedding, which is scheduled a month from now. I look at my watch, trying to estimate the time I’ll be home if the plane lands on time.

“What a beautiful watch,” the woman comments.

“Thank you,” I say, looking up at her and smiling. She has a lovely warmth about her and I can’t help but find myself drawn in by it.  Before I know it, I am extending my hand and introducing myself.

“Hi, I’m Rachel,” I say.

“Nice to meet you, Rachel. I am Madhu,” she says. “I’m going to Northern Virginia to visit my daughter and her family,” she volunteers.

“Where does she live?” I ask.

We speak about her daughter and her new home in Reston and how this is the first time Madhu will get to see her new granddaughter, who is only 2 weeks old.

“I had to come all the way from Mumbai. I stayed with family in Jersey for a few days and now, I will finally see my granddaughter.” She smiles and holds her palms tightly in her hands.

“Wow. That’s a long journey,” I say, always with a knack for stating the obvious. She nods.

I motion to my engagement ring.

“I was up in New Jersey, making some last minute arrangements for my wedding next month.”

“Oh! That’s lovely,” Madhu says. “Tell me, Rachel. Is this a love match?”

It takes me a second to realize what she is asking.

“Oh, yes. Yes! It’s a love match. I met him and you know, BAM, I fell in love,” I laugh, finding myself playing with the beautiful solitaire on my ring.

“That’s wonderful. So, you are in love then. What a wonderful thing to be. To know.” She smiles. But she seems somewhere else.

“Haven’t you been in love?” I ask. There is something sad about the idea that this beautiful woman with the melodic laugh sitting next to me, may never have known love.

“In love?” Madhu laughs. “Yes. Yes, I have been in love.” She looks at her own watch.

“Well, it looks like we have some time before we land at Dulles,” she says, smiling at me, a twinkle lighting up her hazel eyes. “Do you think that’s enough time for me to tell you a love story, Rachel?”

I nod, reclining my seat back. Something about Madhu’s voice tells me this is going to be good.

****************************************************************

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is running with input from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

So, that’s it. I know it’s just a “glimmer” of what I hope to put together, but if you can just go over there and click like, I will never ask you to sing naked again. I promise.

VOTE—-> Click on this link. Then click Like. If you want, you can do this EVERY DAY.

Trust me, my family is getting enlisted BIG time.

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MEET KIRAN
I'm Kiran, I'm a dreamer. A writer. A singer. A mother. An ugly crier. An Indian-American. Who loves Gandhi. My stories are full of truth that is sometimes hard for me to say out loud. This blog is where I overcome my fears and live (and love) out loud. Read More....
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