The story behind the Paintings
September 15, 2026
September 15, 2026
The Story Behind the Paintings
I remember my cousin Rani from when I was three or four. She was a young artist, and I still remember sitting in her lap as she painted. Those little moments stayed with me for the rest of my life. Life took us in different directions, and we lost touch for almost fifty years until I began writing The Peace She Promised and I realised something.
I didn’t want the book to speak only through words. I wanted readers to feel each Act before they even began reading it. That’s when I thought of Rani. With the help of my eldest brother, I found her again in our native town. She is now in her seventies.
When I asked if she would create five paintings for my memoir, she became emotional. Then she told me something I had never known. Years earlier, when she won her very first painting award, my father had encouraged her deeply. He believed in her talent and hoped that one day, her art would reach many people.
My father passed away when I was fourteen. He never knew this book would exist.
Yet somehow, through these paintings, it feels as though one of his dreams has quietly found its way home. Although she wasn’t keeping well, Rani completed every painting with love.
Are they perfect? Perhaps not. But I never wanted perfection.
I wanted truth.
I wanted memories.
I wanted love.
And every painting in The Peace She Promised carries all three.
Perhaps that is the beauty of this story: sometimes, people, memories and dreams we thought were lost find their way back to us, completing stories we never knew were still being written.
The Story Behind the Title
There is a reason those four words became the title of my memoir.
It isn’t found in the last chapter of the book.
It began during lunch in 2005, on one of the hardest days of our lives.
The world felt unbearably heavy.
Veena, Lana and I were having lunch together. I was crying as I ate. By then, tears had become almost as familiar as the food in front of me.
Then Veena looked up at me.
Not with fear, but with hope.
She said:
“I don’t want him, Ma. Can’t it just be us? I just want us to be happy. I want to eat well, sleep well, and not be scared anymore.”
I looked at her and answered without hesitation:
“I promise.”
It wasn’t a promise made in a moment of certainty.
It was a promise made with love.
From that day forward, those two words became my compass.
A promise that my daughters would grow up knowing peace instead of fear.
That home would be defined not by walls, but by love, dignity, safety and hope.
I didn’t know then how difficult that promise would be to keep.
There were days when it felt impossible—days filled with uncertainty, heartbreak and questions I didn’t yet know how to answer.
But every decision I made came back to those two words:
“I promise.”
Over time, something unexpected happened.
The promise changed me.
It was no longer only about creating a different future for my daughters. It became a promise to myself—to heal instead of merely survive, to choose hope instead of bitterness, and to believe that even after life’s darkest seasons, a new beginning is possible.
Years later, when it was time to name my memoir, there was only one title that felt true:
The Peace She Promised.
Because this book was never simply about what happened to me.
It is about a promise.
A promise that changed the course of one family’s life.
And my hope is that, somewhere within these pages, every reader discovers a promise worth making to themselves.
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