About me
The Author Behind the Books
HELLO!
Meet Me
I think a little bit of every author is in every story he or she tells. I think like all authors, I am riveted by people, by what makes them tick. I am fascinated by family relationships, the secrets we keep from those we love, the deep and convoluted bonds of love that can so quickly turn into hate and the desire for revenge and retribution. I I love witnessing snatched moments in people’s lives. I collect nuances and conversations and create stories around them. I borrow characteristics from various different people and people them in my characters.
I grew up in a Kallianpur, a small village near the port town of Mangalore, in South Western India. Although I identify as British, my heart still feels Indian and writing fiction is my way of dealing with this dichotomy, my experience as an immigrant, bringing up my children in England while missing my family in India. My stories deal with themes of love, family relationships, displacement and the experience of first and second generation immigrants in Britain.
Growing up, I never had enough to read. My childhood village did not have a library or a bookshop for that matter - not that we could afford to buy books.The nearest library was in the next town a bus ride away but this was a small corner of the Taluk office - one cupboard half- filled with donated books which had pages missing. Nevertheless I read them all several times over. Now, I didn’t mind if the first few pages, or even pages from the middle of the book were missing - I could pick up the story, infer what was going on. But it was most annoying, however, when the last few pages were AWOL. Then, I would lie on the mat with my mum and siblings, the monsoon rain drumming on the tiles above, the dog howling outside, slapping at the mosquitoes feasting on my flesh and I would make up my own ending to the story.
Soon I couldn’t go to sleep without making up stories, and although initially they featured protagonists from the books I was reading, I branched out quickly enough into creating my own. I suppose this definitely helped me to become an author - the dearth of books growing up. My childhood village was a hotbed for gossip and secrets, shaped by a culture that was as primitive as it was heartfelt, as narrow minded as it was generous. I chafed at the restrictions imposed on girls by a culture that seemed to bind me in (loving) chains.
I write about the India I grew up in, a land of disparities, of breath-taking beauty and toxic pollution, of chaos and noise contrasting with the agonised silence of women who are not heard, of people who are as kind as they are bigoted, of spicy food and spicier gossip, of paan-chewing matrons and arranged marriages, of girls who yearn to grow into the women they want to be but are restrained by a culture that levies boundaries on them.
Food played a pivotal role in my life, growing up. My grandmother was in charge of the kitchen and when we were little, if she came to the living room my sister would point to the kitchen and say to her, ‘Go back to your house.’ Every night, we went to bed to the sounds of the hand grinder as she ground rice to a paste for dosas or idlis the next day. As soon as breakfast was over, she would start preparations for lunch, grating coconuts, chopping onions. After lunch, she would have a quick nap, then resume preparations for our evening snack and dinner. This was not just her, though. Everyone in the village was like that and they still are. When we visit, everyone comes bearing gifts of food and invitations to breakfast, lunch, dinner. Where I grew up, food is the currency of love. And so, it is no wonder really that food features so heavily in my books.
This is the recipe for my stories: a soupcon of mystery, a dash of action, a touch of adventure, a tablespoon of forgiveness and a teaspoon of racial tension, a pinch of romance and a sprinkling of laughter, seasoned liberally with nostalgia and a good helping of love.