At eight, I was sent from England to live with relatives in Goa for four years. The experience shook me out of my timid existence and led to a profound sense of belonging
In 1984, I boarded a musty Air India plane with my aunt, leaving my parents and baby sister in the south of England, and flew to live with my maternal grandparents in a tiny fishing town south of Goa. At a time when many Indians were emigrating to Britain in search of a more prosperous life, I seemed to be the only brown person going in the other direction.
I was eight years old. I was being sent to India to get up to speed with the language (Kannada) before my family followed, as we were planning to relocate from England. It would only be for a few months, I was assured. The separation ended up lasting four years because the big move never materialised.
