@eNcHaNteD_pHoeniX You know? Following college my American Peace Corps service was a teacher at Holy Cross Mission in the remote jungle village of Bolahun, Liberia.
When it came time for vacation we chartered a plane for Nairobi, Kenya. During the next 25 days, I became enamored with the loveliest young women in the world.
Some were as dark as Africans while others were as light as Scandinavians.
Their native dress?
Sarees!
It was not appropriate for me to approach these lovely Desi women for two reasons.
First, I concluded that they were a minority that maintained their separate identity by marrying within their culture.
Second, my being on vacation was not a time to seek a relationship.
So I admired those lovely ladies from a distance until one afternoon on Zanzibar when I had some free time prior to flying back to Dar es Salaam.
There in Costa's Tea Shop was a plain looking, college-age girl whose family migrated from Goa. By faith she was Catholic.
Nevertheless, in conversation during the next two hours she expressed a charm far beyond looks.
She was awaiting test score results in hopes of winning a scholarship to study in the UK.
The only thing I had to give her to remember me by was a hand-woven rice bag.
Over the years I have often wondered how life with her might have been given the opportunity.
That's the reason for my story Love Torn Asunder. It begins with a conversation in a tea shop between an American Peace Corps teacher with a girl of Indian ancestry.
I received permission from two Desi women to use their names. So my main female character is Deesha Kapasi. Something easy to pronounce.
Then I discussed he story with another Indian lady to make sure readers from India would not think the story is absurd.
When I returned from Africa, I spoke to a girl who had once lived in my neighborhood. We married nine months later.