by Preetha Leela Chockalingam

Coming from a family of avid readers and writers, I was unusually slow to both reading and writing. In my very South Indian family, it was expected that you would love books. I was eight and struggled with reading. By contrast, my sister, Deepa, who was only 18 months older than me, was way ahead of her reading age. She took her role of elder sister very seriously and sat with me every evening reading, until I learnt to read by myself. Deepa was also extremely witty, both as a child and later as an adult. Whenever Niles comes on in Frasier, I am reminded of Deepa. With my parents at loggerheads, Deepa and I hid ourselves in reading. It was what led to me writing.

I grew up avoiding the house after school and cycling with friends until late. Chennai was safe back then and it felt like it was in a special time for girls. Unlike my parent’s generation where women were expected to be homemakers, we were encouraged to go to university.

While home life was tough, school was actually quite wonderful. I enjoyed writing at school, a daft sort of writing, questionable parodies of famous poems, completely implausible crime fiction, etc. Writing stuck in my head and after my first degree, I started working for an advertising agency in Chennai called ‘Fifth Estate’. It had really nice people and I enjoyed myself immensely. The thing I remember most is that, whenever we were working overtime, we were given this flask of sweet, milky caffeine. No one could tell whether it was tea or coffee, so we called it ‘HBL’: hot, brown liquid. I loved my job as a copywriter and often wonder what would have happened if I had stayed on in it and not moved into academia in Britain.

Ironically, it was after my MA in Writing at Sheffield Hallam University, that I entered banking and then teaching. I wasn’t able to find a job as a writer. Back then, British advertising was very snooty. Experience outside of Britain was disregarded and I felt silly walking around with a portfolio of ads that counted for nothing. Determined to make it as a writer, I went to a charity that helped graduates get into advertising. One woman rudely said: “It’s not even the fact that you are Indian, it’s the fact that you are a woman. It’s a ‘boysie’ world, advertising.”

Eventually, Adecco got me into banking and for a while, I was happy there. After some time, I felt the pull back into writing and research. I had sent three chapters of my book to Bloomsbury and received an encouraging response asking for the rest. I sent off the rest but, although their letter back to me was very encouraging, it was a rejection. To date, it’s the nicest rejection I’ve ever received.

I contacted an editing outfit in India and, liking how passionate they were about writing, I began representing their writers in the UK. Unfortunately, although I loved the literary agency work, my own career as a writer suffered because I felt awkward about sending my work out to the same publishers I sent the work of other writers to. I continued to do it for a few years while teaching at Southwark College. Southwark College will always be the place where I felt truly accepted and appreciated in the UK. It’s also the place I met other writers who have become close friends.

Gradually, I moved into Uni teaching. One day, while the students were presenting and one group was taking a bit too long to set up, I checked my email and saw an acceptance for one of my stories from Puffin. I went mad with joy but had to wait till the class ended before telling anyone. When it came out, the book wasn’t available in the UK, so my sister posted copies to me. I remember getting ten pounds as a payment for it. It was the best ten pounds I had ever received! I was published as a non-fiction writer in the UK, but my passion was always fiction. Although the book was well received, it was ten years before another acceptance for my fiction arrived. In those ten years, events took place that changed my life forever.

My sister called to say she had adopted a child. Shortly after adopting Arthi, Deepa developed anxiety related problems and couldn’t settle into motherhood. I stepped in to help her raise Arthi, but it was tricky as my sister was in India and I was here in London. Luckily, the school Arthi attended which was my old school was very helpful and, while there were deeply worrying moments for me being far away, I just trusted that it would be OK.

A few years after little Arthi settled into a routine at school, lockdown hit and my sister fell ill. Though, it wasn’t Covid, it wasn’t clear what was wrong with her. While I was teaching a remote class, I got a phone call to say that her condition was serious. Landing in India, I had to go through a quarantine at a hotel while marking academic papers, non-stop. With Deepa being unwell, it all felt extremely grim. Finally, I was allowed to go and see her. She was in a terrible state and the hospital bills were sky-high! My sister’s friends helped raise funds. It was a godsend, but exhausting to manage. At the end of a surgery the hospital had suggested for my sister, she died. It was the worst experience of my life. Seeing her lifeless body there, and then having to tell Arthi…

My sister and I had been very close. Although we argued often, we couldn’t spend even a few days without speaking to one another. I didn’t even have time to grieve as I was faced with a huge dilemma. I knew I had to bring Arthi back to the UK with me, but in the midst of Covid, the bureaucracy was worse. Luckily, I had a set of excellent lawyers and a social worker in Chennai who helped me gain guardianship of Arthi. The next hurdle was getting a visa from the Home Office. We were rejected three times before getting it! Even after getting the visa, we were stopped at Delhi airport and almost not allowed on to the flight. Although we had all the documents, we were told we didn’t have the signature on something we needed. Finally, my lawyer spoke to them (bless her) and they consented. We boarded the flight ten minutes before take-off. I spent the entire time praying we wouldn’t have problems at Heathrow.

When we landed at Heathrow, I was stressed and tense. Arthi was fascinated by everything! When we reached immigration, my heart almost contracted, but the officer just looked at Arthi’s visa and stamped it within ten seconds.

I said to Arthi: “Your destiny lies in Britain.”

It felt like my sister was blessing us too. In the midst of all this pain, Puffin India suddenly gave me a contract for A Chera Adventure. I wrote most of the book in a dreamlike state where I would forget about my sister’s death temporarily and just write whenever I wasn’t teaching or marking or parenting; this basically meant writing nights. Some days, I’d fall asleep at my desk, wake up, make some coffee and get back to writing. I knew I owed it to my sister. Whenever people mentioned siblings, I died inside and had to keep reminding myself that I had Arthi and that I had been given the opportunity of a lifetime with my book.

I also worked for Pen to Print and mentored two lovely writers. I wanted them to feel proud of me too. Whenever I needed to write and forget about everything else, I would play classical music. It helped me focus. In this way, I managed to finish the book and send it off. I waited anxiously for Puffin to reply. I was worried that they’d hate the book. A few weeks later, my editor wrote to say she loved it. She suggested changes, of course, and told me to cut bits of the story as I’d exceeded the word limit. Arthi and I celebrated by cutting a cake and placing a slice before my sister’s picture. I finally accepted the book was happening and could tell people. I made the changes and sent it off.

The thing I’d say to any writer going through a bereavement is to let yourself feel the grief fully, but remember that, even if you deny  yourself the life you were meant to live, no one in heaven is coming back. You’ll never get a chance to live your life over, so, even though it’s hard, keep writing your stories: a story can outlive us all!

Preetha Leela Chockalingam is a writer and mum who loves poring over fiction. She has a passion for mentoring writers and has worked for Pen to Print’s Book Challenge since 2017. Preetha’s writing background includes copywriting, travel writing, blogging, historical fiction, thrillers, comedy and drama. She is published as a children’s writer with Puffin India’s The Girls Of India series. Her book A Chera Adventure was released in September 2021. Connect with Preetha on Instagram: @preethaleelachockalingam

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