I grew up in a mixed-heritage family. Both of my parents’ childhoods were deeply affected by colonialism in India and they often told me stories about this period in their lives. As a result, I inherited a sense of place and a feeling for a country which was never my home.
It’s a strange feeling, which I still struggle to put into words, though I tried in my memoir, Shalimar: A Story of Place and Migration, which holds at its heart the sensation and imagery of India’s climate and its wildlife. India, for me, will always coexist with English weather and the roses my father tended to in our modest, suburban home in Hayes, west London.
While we now have beautifully written, tender children’s books which address colonial history, from Nazneen Ahmed Pathak’s City of Stolen Magic (2023) to Jasbinder Bilan’s Nush and the Stolen Emerald (2024), The Secret Garden still holds a powerful spell over me. That’s because of its representation of nature and its use of fiction to tell a story about England and India, two countries brought together through the healing space of the garden.
