‘The One-Way Ships’ is a quiet story of identity and becoming

"Because you speak English, I often forget that you know nothing about the English and their ways of living here in their own country. Wealthy houses have butlers attend to the door..." reads an extract from Uma Lohray’s 'The One-Way Ships', a line that draws a sharp parallel with the pre-Independence era when Indians were seen as lesser beings in their own land. 

Imagine being stranded on a ship, in a country nearly 5,000 miles from home - with no contacts, no connections, and no clue of your surroundings or what’s unfolding around you. Now, imagine that person is an ayah, caught in the clutches of life’s harshest realities — neglected, dismissed, and reduced to being ‘just’ a servant. All she does is care for children, bathe them, feed them, and smile through it all. That’s the heartbreaking crux of this brilliant novel: one that doesn’t rely on loud plot twists or flashy storytelling, but quietly holds its own with grace and depth.

Sometimes, a good read does not need spectacle to be memorable, just quiet strength, honest storytelling, and a world that feels relatable. Uma Lohray's novel does just that. It takes us back to a time when Indians were second-class citizens in their own land. A time when Indians were expected to bow, sit on the stairs while the English took the cushioned chairs, and when poor, innocent girls cooked hearty meals only to eat the leftovers - if they were lucky. These everyday indignities are subtly but powerfully woven into the fabric of Lohray’s narrative.

The protagonist, Asha, is a young girl from Shimla who faces life’s harshest realities far too early. Orphaned and with no support from her relatives, Asha finds unlikely support in her neighbours. What makes the narrative all the more real is that none of her relatives step forward to help, something many might find heartbreakingly relatable. This subtle detail gives the novel emotional depth and meaning.

While the book relies heavily on one girl's suffering, Lohray abstains from exaggerating suffering for effect. Instead, she allows Asha’s circumstances and growth to speak for themselves. You feel for her not because she begs for sympathy, but because her quiet resilience demands respect.

Despite her circumstances, Asha doesn’t wallow. She learns to survive and wanders the streets of Shimla only to eventually find a job as a caretaker in the home of an Englishwoman. From there begins a slow but steady transformation. Asha begins to pick up the English language, learn new skills, and forge unlikely relationships across cultural lines.

Two key moments define her journey. The first is when she seizes an opportunity to travel overseas as an 'ayah' — with a promised return ticket. The second is the betrayal she faces when the same family abandons her on a ship near London. Left stranded in a foreign land, most would have given up, but Asha doesn’t. She fights to survive in a place where she knows no one, clinging to her dignity and instincts.

Asha, once again, begins life from scratch. But this time, she’s more than just a survivor. She’s skilled, articulate, self-reliant, and above all - quick to adapt. 

What makes this novel so compelling is not just the plot, but its soul. It teaches without preaching. It inspires without trying to impress. It shows us that education, inner strength, moral clarity, and a sense of self-worth can help one rise above the harshest of circumstances. Asha’s story is a reminder that rock bottom can sometimes be the beginning of something far greater.

'The One-Way Ships' is not just a novel - it’s an experience that leaves you with warmth, admiration, and a quiet urge to be a little braver in life. There’s no over-the-top drama, no fantastical indulgences. It is a gentle, quietly powerful novel; simple in its language, yet profound in impact. And that is what makes it so special.