Under the Literary Banyan: My Favorite Authors and the Roots of My Writing
If you ever want to know what inspires a writer, look at their bookshelf. My own proverbial shelves are a riot of color, language, and history—hundreds of books collected over the years, each one a branch in the sprawling banyan tree of my imagination. I couldn’t possibly list all my favorite authors, but there’s a special place in my heart for those with Asian roots, whose stories have shaped the way I see the world and the way I write.
Devdutt Pattanaik’s retellings of Indian mythology are a masterclass in making the ancient feel immediate and alive. His books are like stepping into a temple at dawn—quiet, luminous, and full of unexpected wisdom. Indu Sundaresan’s historical novels, especially ‘The Twentieth Wife,’ sweep me into the Mughal courts, where power and poetry dance together. Samina Ali’s ‘Madras on Rainy Days’ and Anjana Appachana’s ‘Listening Now’ have both left me lingering in the delicate spaces between tradition and change, family and self.
Rohinton Mistry’s ‘A Fine Balance’ is a book I return to again and again, each time finding new heartbreak and hope in its pages. Monica Ali’s ‘Brick Lane’ and Kiran Desai’s ‘The Inheritance of Loss’ both capture the immigrant experience with such honesty that I find myself nodding along, recognizing pieces of my own story. Abir Mukherjee’s detective novels are a recent delight—sharp, witty, and set in a Calcutta that feels both familiar and mysterious. Anuradha Roy and Amitav Ghosh round out my list, their prose lush and sprawling, their stories as wide as the rivers and forests they describe.
Reading these authors is, for me, like spending an afternoon under a great tree. I love immersing myself under the boughs of these arboreal stories, letting the sunshine trickle in, swinging through branches, oblivious to anything outside of the ecosystem—while I am reading. Their words are roots, anchoring me to a sense of place and possibility; their characters are leaves, each one unique, catching the light in a different way.
My own writing is certainly inspired by my reading. Sometimes, I catch myself borrowing a turn of phrase, a rhythm, or even a way of seeing the world. More often, though, it’s the courage of these authors—their willingness to tackle big questions, to write about home and exile, love and loss, faith and doubt—that pushes me to dig deeper in my own work. They remind me that stories are not just entertainment; they are a way of making sense of the world, of finding connection across continents and generations.
Of course, there are so many more authors I could mention, and my list is always growing. Let’s compare notes—there’s always room for another branch on this literary banyan.
