My Ayah

This is Mrs Williams, although we never thought of her as that, whenever we talk about her we call her our Ayah. She was a widow, that's why she's wearing a white sari. She died many years ago, long after we'd come to Britain, but we're still in touch with one of her grandsons (he's in his thirties).

She gave me this beautiful ring when we left India in 1981.

She had four daughters and her husband died when they were quite young and she was left to raise them on her own and get them married. One of them married a Muslim, and our Ayah, a Christian, said to Mum, "I only have three daughters now." For many years they didn't communicate, but then they got back together again, and our Ayah kept giving her and her children lots of presents. I thought this was unfair - what about the other daughters and their children? But Mum said that she understood why she did that. The prodigal daughter, I guess. You have all that love that you need to make up for.

Speaking of making up for love, Tom and I are off to India later today. We're not going to Bengal, where our Ayah was, but to the north, a hill station in the Himalayas called Mussoorie where I went to school. I'm going to introduce my son to India. I hope to take him to Bengal another time and maybe meet our Ayah's family.