“An exquisite, memorable story about new beginnings and the quest to belong.” That’s how Kirkus Reviews described Ritu Hemnani’s Lion of the Sky. It is a novel about friendship, set against the tormented backdrop of the 1947 Partition of India. Hemnani uses unrhymed verse, with all its lightness and white space, to tell a story with a weighty context and a deeply wrenching storyline. She pulls the challenge off with grace and sensitivity. From the beginning, and through the tumult that is to come, the story anchors us close to the child character, 12-year-old Raj, free as the wind, his most earnest hopes pinned on winning the Kite Festival. Read the opening of this poem, “Daring,” to see what I mean:

I fly/ through the fields of Sindh,/ of wildflowers and birdsong,/ my suthan pants flapping/ cool wind against my cheeks.

Here’s Raj reflecting on his best friend, Iqbal:

Iqbal and I/ weren’t always friends./ Not till I was eight/and got stuck high up/ a mango tree./He’s Muslim, after all,/ and wears his crisp white topi./ And I’m Hindu, after all,/ and wear my dark red ajar cap.

If you think a rescue is coming, think again. What happens between these two young boys who will be friends is far more childlike and real and earthbound than such an easy outcome.

I invited Ritu Hemnani, who lives in Hong Kong, to share with us what this story means to her. Here is what she wrote:

Preserving Our Family Story: A Treasured Inheritance
My parents never shared their story. And I never asked. But one day, my daughter asked how we came to be in Hong Kong. I remember standing in the doorway, as she sat on the bed with them. My parents were reluctant to answer, saying, “We left that in the past so we could move forward,” but with my daughter’s persistence, they relented and took us back in time to 1947, and the Partition of India.
“It was a frightening time. We had to leave Sindh practically overnight.” When they spoke about having to say goodbye to families they'd known for generations and flee on trains, not knowing if they would survive, I sat down too.
My parents' migration story served as the seed that blossomed into my debut middle-grade novel in verse, Lion of the Sky. I wanted to bring their ancestral homeland of Sindh to life, recreating the sensory richness of the place - its sounds, scents, flavors, and rhythm of life.
What I didn’t expect was the deep impact my book would have on my children. From using Sindhi phrases such as "dado sutho," requesting to eat traditional dishes, like pakwan dal, and asking to play the Sindhi game, carrom board,* they have developed a deeper appreciation for their cultural roots. My parents have been delighted to witness this new enthusiasm, hoping it will help to preserve our language and customs for generations to come.
Beyond fostering cultural pride, the tales of courage shown by my elders in difficult times have also given my children a strong family narrative to call their own. They now see themselves as the continuation of a lineage that has persevered through immense challenges with resolve and determination.
The stories of hardship and hope that have been passed down from my parents and grandparents to my children are the most valuable gifts they have received. Learning of the determination with which our family has overcome adversity over generations has fuelled their sense of capability to thrive despite life's obstacles. In this way, the courage and resilience of those who came before are kept alive to empower those who will shape the future. Of all we can leave to our future generations, the treasure trove of family wisdom and virtue preserved through stories stands as the most cherished inheritance of all.

*carrom is a game of Indian origin, widely played across all the countries of South Asia. Each region thinks of the game as their very own.

For more on the power of preserving and passing down family stories, see Ritu’s post on SLJ’s Teen Librarian Toolbox.

I asked Ritu, why verse? She wrote:

I wanted to tap into the power of poetic language to evoke potent emotions, complex ideas, and vivid sensory experiences to make an impact on readers. The rhythm, cadence, and imagery of poetry helped me capture the raw emotions, anguish, and resilience of the characters, making their experiences more vivid and relatable. The white space also invites readers to make personal connections and ‘fill in’ the blanks, so the reading process becomes a collaborative and interactive experience between reader and writer…

Lion of the Sky does all that and more. A heartwarming, child-centred treatment of a complicated history.

Guest Post: Ritu Hemnani on Lion of the Sky

Guest Post: Is Writing a Picture Book Really That Hard? by Veera Hiranandani

Process Talk: India’s History Through the Lens of After Midnight by Meghaa Gupta