Foreword
The vast expanse of the British Raj, and World War I, held in the tiny palms of two little girls' hands. That is the first response I felt while reading this book. A memoir can be so dry and self-driven that it's often too self-indulgent for me. Not this one, though.
Told gently, innocently by two sisters whose father worked for a steamer company, in a mood of delight and wonder. Far away from the political stench or morality that one encounters most when reading the Raj, this is not an account distilled by judgement on the British side, or resentment on the Indian. This is purely an experiential story of little girls who revel in the colour, flavour and chaos that was and still is India. They compare the drab austerity of their very British Quaker aunts when the little girls are sent to England to be brought up 'properly'
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