Set against the backdrop of pre-independence India, ‘The One-Way Ships’ by Uma Lohray, shines a literary light on a little-known chapter of colonial history: the lives of young Indian ‘baby’ ayahs who were indispensable and integral caretakers in British households, and of whom many were later abandoned or left to fend for themselves in unfamiliar lands.
At the heart of the novel is Asha, a spirited girl from the hills of Shimla whose world is upended after her father’s untimely death, forcing her to consider employment as an ayah rather than returning to school. What begins as a tale of loss and displacement soon unfolds into a story of strength, survival, dignity and self-determination.
Uma’s writing is lyrical, atmospheric, and deeply resonant. The book is inspired by archival research and oral histories, but at its core, it’s an immensely human tale of a young girl’s fight to reclaim a sense of belonging.
Set to release in June, 2025, ‘The One-Way Ships’ follows Asha’s unusual life as she struggles with questions about the meaning of home and the perils and rewards of self-determination. She finds herself not only getting back on her feet but also saving someone she never imagined needed saving. Inspired by the real-life accounts of a generation of lost, unsung victims of the colonial machinery, the baby ayahs who played an indispensable role in the households of the Raj as doting mother-surrogates, but too often found that they themselves were very much dispensable.
Uma Lohray is a writer, lawyer, and literary debutante whose historical fiction novel, ‘The One-Way Ships’ explores the overlooked history and the quiet strength of marginalised voices of Indian ayahs—young women and girls sent across oceans to serve in British households during the colonial era.
Raised across Pune, Hyderabad, and Ahmedabad by scientist parents, Uma studied law at one of India’s premier national law universities and worked as a lawyer in Delhi.
‘The One-Way Ships’ Author Uma Lohray
To get to know more about her book, Sonakshi Datta of GoaChronicle asked Uma a few questions about the same.
What made you research and then write a book on such an over-looked topic of history, that is the life of the ‘baby’ ayahs during British Raj?
It began quite unexpectedly; with an article I stumbled upon about an ayah being abandoned at King’s Cross with just a pound in her pocket. A google search led me to information on a movement seeking grant of a Blue Plaque in London for something called the ‘Ayah Home’. One had to wonder- who were these ayahs, and why did they need a home in England?
Curiosity led to research, and research led to stories. I discovered anecdotes and fond memories shared by people from around the world about their British great grand-parents who were practically raised by their ‘ayahs’- caretaker women from British colonies. Similar sentiments reflected in the works of writers such as Charles Allen, Rudyard Kipling, and many others. The tenderness and reverence with which Anglo-Indian children spoke of their ayahs, and the lack of written records from the women themselves, made the experience of writing the story much like putting pieces of a puzzle together. It helped that the stories struck a special chord with me, a new mother at the time.
During your research, what fact came out as the biggest learning associated with the topic of concern, for you?
The thing that surprised me was that ayahs were not just passive victims of the empire, but rather courageous and enterprising women. Despite their stories often being steeped with injustice, there were remarkable examples of resilience.
For instance, one ayah, Minnie Green, successfully sued her employers for her wages, and another, Mrs. Anthony Pareira from Kerala, made the journey between India and England no fewer than 52 times! These discoveries highlighted the complexity of the ayahs’ lives. The women navigated a society that offered them few rights and little recognition, and yet they managed to assert agency, resilience, and even legal power.
This nuanced understanding- seeing ayahs not just as abandoned caregivers but as individuals with strength and initiative was a key insight that deeply shaped the portrayal of Asha in the novel- part history, part possibility! These women were a unique confluence of the English and Indian way of lives. I realised that while history had moved on, their stories hadn’t found a commensurate place in public discourse. That became the impulse for ‘The One-Way Ships’. I wanted to give shape to a life like theirs, not as a statistic or an archival footnote, but as a voice, a person, a girl navigating impossible choices in a world that was never built for her.
Why do you reckon that this topic continues to remain a ‘little- known’ chapter of Indian colonial history? What social or political factors, if any, do you believe prevented such topics from coming to light pervasively?
I think it is primarily because the women themselves left behind very few written accounts, and their wards, themselves being young children, might not have had the perspective or the opportunity to document it. Most of the women were illiterate, and even those who could read and write had no access to publishing or systems of preservation.
Socially and politically, the marginal position of ayahs- poor, female, and colonized- meant their experiences were not considered important enough to record or remember. Colonial narratives are typically centered on the colonizers, often flattening or erasing the voices of the colonized.
The ayahs, especially young girls employed and later discarded as caretakers, did not fit into the grand narratives of empire and were thus excluded. Their stories survived only in fragments—through rare legal records, oral testimonies, or the fading memories of children they once cared for—making it all the more urgent to reclaim their place in history through fiction.
Was there a specific reason for you to choose Shimla as the backdrop of Asha’s story?
Yes, absolutely. On a personal note, I have always loved Shimla! There is something about its quiet, pine-scented slopes and the layered history that intrigue me deeply- so it was a real joy to dig into details about the city’s past and try to reconstruct the mall road and life in Shimla in the 1930s.
More pragmatically, of all the hill stations I considered, Shimla was the one that could be brough to life most vividly, thanks to the exceeding richness of archival material, memoirs, and British-era non-fiction books set in and around the town. The details in sources such as Simla, Past and Present by Edward John Buck and the writings of John Langdon helped me imagine Asha’s world with much greater clarity and depth.
Finally, it also felt like an appropriate place for the story to begin due to its centrality to the empire at that time. As the summer capital of the British Raj, represented both the glittering surface and the darker undercurrents of colonial rule. It was one of the places where the British found respite in the scorching summer. Distant from their own lands, their wives and children often migrated to the hills hoping to find respite from the hot weather in the plains and ran their household in the most British way possible by employing the locals such as the durzee and ayahs. So overall, it seemed like a good place to start.
What makes your book, ‘The One-Way Ships’, a must-read for all?
For the modern-day young reader, The One-Way Ships is a powerful and relevant read because it speaks directly to experiences that still resonate today—feeling invisible, having to grow up too soon, navigating systems that weren’t built for you, and finding your voice in a world that often overlooks it.
My objective behind framing this story as a narrative within a narrative was also to show how these subjects transcend generations and are still relevant. The book explores how memory, trauma, and resilience are passed down across generations. It invites readers to reflect on hidden histories and encourages empathy across time and culture.
While set in colonial India and Britain, the novel’s heart lies in its portrayal of the young protagonist coming into her own. It is a young adult novel as well, and a bildungsroman- coming of age story that charts Asha’s growth not just through survival, but through the choices she makes, the people she chooses to protect, and the dignity she claims for herself.
For readers of diaspora literature, it is a demonstration of the human cost of the British Empire. For those interested in historical fiction, it is a fictionalised account of the sparsely discussed truth.
