Before Maya could loosen her tongue and come up with something comforting to say, her mother gently pulled Naniamma away. But as soon as Naniamma set eyes on Maya, she beckoned her for an enveloping hug. Naniamma had always been the strong, solid partner in her grandparents’ marriage and Maya had never seen her cry, let alone fall apart like this.

Her usually meticulously wrapped sari was askew, and her silver hair, always pulled back in an elegant chignon, was wild around her shoulders. She was stunned to see how her grandmother appeared to have aged a decade since she last saw her. While her sister pushed past teary relatives to launch herself into her grandmother’s arms with a dramatic sob, Maya stood back. She opened her eyes and her pupils adjusted to the shadowy foyer, decorated in calming white, cream, and powder blue. The sun seemed brighter here, more gold than yellow, raining heat down over the dusty city of Karachi. She closed her eyes for a moment, watching a kaleidoscope of colors flash behind her eyelids-vibrant images that assaulted her senses each time she arrived. Zara stumbled through the carved wooden doors first, while Maya entered last, sweaty from the soaring temperatures outside, a sharp contrast to cool, temperate San Francisco. THE MOMENT THEY ARRIVED, after an exhausting twenty-hour flight, they found the house, usually an oasis of calm, in chaos. Senzai lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her family. She is also the author of Ticket to India and Escape from Aleppo. Publishers Weekly called it “hard hitting, emotionally wrenching.” Her second book, Saving Kabul Corner, was nominated for an Edgar Award. Senzai is the author of Shooting Kabul, which was critically acclaimed and on numerous award lists. I’ve landed back home in San Francisco where I live with my husband, a professor of political science, two sons, and a cat who owns us.N.H. Somewhere along the way I attended UC Berkeley and Columbia University, while pursuing my passion for writing. I’ve hiked across the Alps, road-tripped through Mexico, swum with barracudas in the Red Sea, taken a train across the Soviet Union, floated down the Nile, eaten gumbo in New Orleans and sat in contemplation at the Taj Mahal. I grew up in San Francisco, Jubail, Saudi Arabia, and attended boarding school in London, England where I was voted “most likely to lead a literary revolution” due to my ability to get away with reading comic books in class. I got on a plane for the first time at two months, in Chicago, IL, where I was born, and have been travelling ever since. I grew up speaking two languages, balancing life lived on the edge of two cultures, and, happily, two cuisines-tandoori chicken and hot dogs, grilled side by side on the 4th of July.

Ticket to India by N.H. Senzai