Indira Naidoo: losing a sister and finding healing

This is an ABC Podcast.

Australians have been listening to Indira Naidu for 30 years or so. She's presented news and current affairs programs on SBS and ABC TV, and she's currently the host of Weekend Nightlife on ABC Radio. Indira grew up as part of a globe-trotting family, the eldest of three sisters. There was only one year between each daughter, three peas in a pod, Indira says.

Her new book, The Space Between the Stars, recounts the loss of Manica, Indira's beloved younger sister, who took her own life in 2020. So a heads up, that will be part of our conversation today. Hi, Indira. Hello Sarah. Now, part of your peripatetic childhood was spent in Tasmania. How much freedom did the three of you kids have while you were living in Tazee?

Oh, I mean home I only realise that now when I wrote these chapters in the book. When you go back to Tasmania in the mid seventies, which is when we lived there. It really was probably like in unlike anywhere else in the world. We literally roamed like

free range chickens, the three of us. And, you know, people say in the fifties and sixties, you know, mum and dad would holler on the verandah and go, Dinner's on, you know, and they hadn't seen you all day. Well, we lived that life right up until the seventies. We would just head on our bikes to the creek, jump in the water, have a swim, catch up with all the friends, uh take the dogs for a run, uh go climbing trees, play tennis.

And because there were three of us very close in age, we were like our own gang. We almost didn't need any other friends to hang out with because because there were the three of us. And what we always loved about three, even when you had a fight with one, there was another sister you could play with. So there was always variety. So you were never on your own. And um and we did naughty things together. You know, we

I I don't know. I I at the time it didn't seem that naughty, but I think it was a combination of the freedom and then the confidence that freedom gives you that, yeah, we can climb that tree, we'll be fine and then of course someone ends up falling out or breaking an arm or doing something crazy.

And then we, you know, create another drama about how we can pretend that's not how it happens so we don't get in so much trouble. So we're always coming up with stories and adventures and we all loved, you know, Edith Blyton and the famous five and we sometimes would pretend, you know, that we were on those adventures, you know, making uh sort of heather beds and drinking lashings of ginger beer. So it really was an adventurous childhood, particularly in Tasmania. And then later on when we

went back to Africa as well. Yeah, we had a lot of fun.

How how important was cricket to your family, Indira? My father would often joke that we would only live in s in countries that followed cricket. And we absolutely did. We were b all born in South Africa. Then we moved to Zambia and then of course we have Indian heritage so cricket

is very they're very passionate about that as well. Then we moved to England, of course, uh where cricket started, and then came to Australia. Um so cricket really was the soundtrack of of our lives. Early in the morning when you'd wake up You'd hear the sound of, you know, the the leather on Willow, uh one of the commentators' voices that we we got to know, you know, from Tony Gregg to the ABC commentators.

That was just what was always humming in the background in our house and going and seeing live matches was the highlight of us. In inspired by Tony Gregg, what game did you used to play in the backyard? One of the things Tony Gregg used to do, uh, was his pitch report before every game, he would crouch.

on the pitch and poke his pen or his key into a crack in the pitch to give you a sense of whether it was going to be a good pitch for the bowlers or the batting side. And we used to just love that moment where his I know the drama and the camera would go in for a close up of the crack and then he'd pull out the the key and there'd maybe be a bit of grass or dirt on it. And then what we would do during the lunch break or the tea break is we'd grab

one of Mum's set of house keys and we'd run around the backyard plunging a key into the garden. I don't know why that was so funny, but that was what we did. And yeah, it was um it was inspired by Tony Gregg. One glorious summer. The West Indies team came to Lonceston. Who took you to the match? No one took us. I we never got s really taken many places. We just went on our own. I mean you just

walked down the road, you walked into, you know, wherever we needed to go. That was just life growing up in in country Tasmania. But yeah, we had some tickets, uh cricket tickets and we got up in the early in the morning, we'd prepared our picnic basket and our thermos and our autograph book to make sure that we could, you know, have uh try to get a a a um autograph of one of the players. And we just headed to the cricket just on our own and we were just so used to doing that.

And we had some members tickets'cause Dad was very passionate about that. And that was also, I'm sure, quite a funny sight, these three little dark skinned Indian girls sitting with largely older white men in the members' stand, but very serious. You know, all our girlfriends were at you know, w shopping or watching a you know go at the cinema or something. But we were there with our thermos and our transition.

and, you know, were giving all these sort of detailed um conversations and and remarks about their batting performance and and how the bowling was going. I don't know what they thought of us. But that particular day we were at the cricket the West Indy cricket team, which were the rock star god cricket team in the nineteen seventies.

were doing a very unusual cricket tournament in Lonceston, and often, you know, the big teams didn't come to Tasmania. So we were so excited and we couldn't wait to get their autograph books. And my younger sister Monica uh, while there was a break in in play, ran down to the fence line where the fielders would often stand and give the little kids their autographs to try to get one.

And we sort of lost track of her, my si other sister and I, and we were watching the game and then a bit later on we wondered where Monica was. And when I looked down near the fence, instead of her at the fence waiting for a cricketer, she was surrounded by this throng of kids and I'm thinking, What's going on? And this young little kid came running out out of this little scrum and said, Mum, Dad, I've got this amazing signature And I'm thinking

Oh, this better be not what I'm thinking this is. So I run down and I, you know, part all the kids and there is my sister Monica writing her name in an autograph book. Monica Richards. So I yank her away and I go, What are you doing? And she said, Oh look, the kids came up to me and because I'm dark skinned they said, Am I related to any of the West Indian players? And I sort of said, Yes, I am and they said, Which one? And so I had to just come up with a name and I said, Vivian Richards.

Aim for the stars. Exactly. One of the biggest cricketing names in the world at the time. And the kids then said, Well, if you're Vivian Richards' daughter, can we have your autograph? And so You know, she was only like six or seven. She went, Yeah, okay. So she just made up Monica Richards and just kept writing that in these autograph books. Oh my gosh, she was so naughty and I was so mad and I said, I'm gonna tell mum and dad.

But you know, I I never did tell Mum and Dad about it'cause I thought, you know, she sort of made their day. Those little country kids, you know, they don't often meet stars. So Probably still being cherished in some autograph book somewhere. Sure, I'm sure so. Yeah. I'm sort of letting the cat out of the bag. If you've got Monica Richards in your autograph book, it wasn't real. Was that Is that emblematic of the kind of character Manica was as a little girl? That that's such a kinda out there.

Brilliant Jake, really. She was a one of her kind. She was daring and uh I mean, just naughty, incredibly naughty. She was anti-authoritarian. She never did what our parents or the teachers ever wanted her to do. She tried to just get out of everything. You know, I ended up having to unpack the dishwasher when it was her job. If she couldn't finish her homework, one of us would finish, you know, writing whatever she needed. And she just had the most cherubic

face and these little dimples and she got away with it, you know. She ended up just basically doing whatever she mostly wanted to do, but a lot of it was incredibly naughty. And she loved stirring people up, you know, particularly adults or older people. And so she'd play the little kid But then she'd do something to either embarrass them or make them feel uncomfortable. And m and what about you and Dera? Were you the stereotypical bossy elder sister?

Oh yep, you got it in one, Sarah. I absolutely was. Uh school prefect is what my husband still calls me to the No more damning a description really. No. It is terrible, isn't it, to be called a school prefect. Uh but I certainly was. And because we moved around a lot and our parents really just tr entrusted us to just get on with things and do things largely without them being around.

I fell into that role of being both an older sibling, an older sister and a parent in a way. So that probably annoyed my sister Monica even more that, Oh my God, you're you know, only one or two years older than me and you're telling me what to do and, you know, getting me in you know, ri telling uh d dabbing me into y our parents or whatever it was. So I definitely played that role.

Cricket is one thing, Indira, but how did Highland dancing become a pastime for the Nigeri sisters? I have no idea. I have no idea. It must have looked odd these two little Indian girls, particularly my younger sisters, because they they were champion dancers. I was um a bit uh heavy footed and it really wasn't anything I excelled at. But three of us, three Indian girls in Tasmania, Lonceston, in the nineteen seventies.

wearing kilts and bonnets and uh and doing Highland dancing. Like what where? How did this happen? But no one ever came up to us and thought that it was an unusual sight to see little Indian girls. uh you know, excelling and not just dancing, but meddling. You know, we would stand on the podium and there'd be medals pinned too. Well, it's a big thing in Tassie, yeah, it certainly was.

It is actually. I mean look, the the climate uh does tend to, you know, sort of take to it in a way'cause it you do wear lots of layers of wool and stockings and waistcoats and hats and things. But yes, it's a big uh pastime in Tasmania and my two sisters both were excellent Highland dancers. As as you say, Indira, they are some elaborate costumes that Highland dancers wear. How did you um stuff up Mannequin's costume one important event day?

So my role because I was so hopeless was just to look after wardrobe and just carry all the bags and there's so many costumes. Each dance had its own tartan and its own skirt and top associated with it. So they were just bags and bags that I had to carry. And there was a particular little bonnet that had to go with Monica's outfit for the lilt that she was uh competing in. And she was the favourite to win the gold medal in this event, so it was a very, very big deal. And I was

meant to borrow one from a friend at school. But when we were packing up all the outfits my mother said, Where is that bonnet and dearer that I told you to get? And I remembered I'd completely forgot. and I know that you get marked if you don't have the right costume and you you get points deduction. You could even be disqualified. I was terrified now but my sis I was gonna disqualify her, so I sort of lied and said, Look, I've got it. It's all sorted, don't worry, it's in my other bag

So they all moved into the car and I raced to the lounge room and grabbed an alternative that I thought no one would realize this is what it was. And it wasn't until we got to the competition And I'm sitting in the stands and my sister has come up with all the other little girls, the mothers

all flock down to adjust their outfits, make sure they're absolutely picture perfect for this competition. So I race down in that moment and I whip out this pseudo uh little bonnet out of my pocket and I pin it to Monica's head and she dance starts the dance and I'm convinced no one's gonna pick that it's not like a real Lilt bonnet. But immediately the judge's eyebrows shoot up.

and then there's some giggling that comes from the stands and I'm there going, Oh no, they all realise this is not a proper piece of, you know, uniform. So the music starts and everyone's dancing and Monica's a bit distracted by all the giggles and as she dances more and more,

the giggles start getting louder and in and turning into laughter. And then my mother uh sort of looks up and she's been embroidering something or fixing a button on a costume and she looks down at Monica on the stage and realizes that she's not wearing the proper uniform bonnet.

and then shoots me a deadly look and realises what I've done and I th and I realize, oh no, I'm not gonna live this down. Monica finishes her dance and immediately the music stops. She pulls whatever's on her head off and looks at it for the first time and realises it's not a bonnet and that what I've done is I've put a doily on her head

that I found on the back of the couch in the lounge, thinking it would look very similar, but obviously it didn't. And she just finds me in the grandstand and starts stomping in my direction and I'm thinking, Oh no, I'm not gonna hear the end of this And yeah, no one talked to me well not just her, no one in the family talked to me for like a week after I pulled off that paper.

Well from forging, you know, a Richard signature to false bonnets, there's like a trail of criminal destruction left in your wake across the state. That's that's what's clear. Yeah. Another time your your grandmother visited from South Africa, how did your mum prepare the house in anticipation for her arrival? Well it was such a special event Sarah because

We did live away from South Africa where most of our relatives were living at the time. So when anyone came to visit, particularly our grandmother, our Aya, it was such a special event'cause it only happened every five, ten years. So all the traditional foods that my grandmother cooked with that we had sort of moved away from in our more western uh culture

uh we had to stock the fridge and freezer with. So things like pigs trotters. Uh so there's a really famous South African pig's trotter curry. that uh my parents used to have when they were kids, but we didn't grow up with them and my grandmother loved that. So pigs trotters went into the freezer, uh all the different awful brains liver things that again that we never ate as as kids. uh fish row, you know, which are the sacks of fish eggs. So

There are a lot of for uh little kids then disgusting things in the freezer, so it's going so you know immediately that there's a relative from South Africa coming when you see those sorts of things coming out. And then Uh my mum was a practicing Hindu and as part of her practice there would be sort of a a Sami and and basically you know an altar and so that would all be uh clean and all the bronze would be polished up.

um and yeah, it was very elaborate the preparation. All the new sheets and towels were bought and then I was kicked out of my room'cause that was also the spare room when we had relatives and that was where I was going to sleep. So we were also excited because when she came it was also a very rare opportunity to get all the special Indian masalas and curry powders that we never usually had and we had to always make do.

in Australia. I mean, at the time we were living in Australia in the seventies in Tasmania, th no one could get knew what coriander was. I mean now you can get the in shops and and supermarkets but you couldn't get that back then. So when the relatives would come with these spices, oh my God, you know, the suitcases would be unzipped on the floor and all those amazing aromas would waft out and we knew we were going to be eating really well for a few weeks.

Did she let you watch her dress, watch her put on her saree? She did. We would sit on her bed in the mornings after she came out of the shower and we would sort of see the transform transformation. and what we would see is her hair was really, really long,'cause we only ever saw it in a bun. But after a shower it would be long, all the way down to her waist, and she'd comb it and she'd

sort of rub o uh coconut oil in it. And then the really magical thing was watching her put on Asari. And this is still fascinating to me. I still can't put on Asari properly to this day, because it's one long rectangle piece of fabric that Indian women just managed to wrap around themselves and make them just look so elegant and beautiful, like they're gliding on water. And uh our Aya, you know, showed us how to pin it and how to create the pleats and how to

tie it in the right place and then throw it over her shoulder. And and um a rub oil of ole, which was her favourite magical, mystical potion that kept her skin soft and smooth and glistening, and she'd always say, put cream on your bodies, children. And it's so funny because when I write about that in the book, a an India a woman from India contacted me and she said, My grandmother used to say the same thing about oil of A. It must be just all Indians around the world are obsessed.

with that particular uh potion. So we were always fascinated with how she'd then transform herself into this goddess and then sort of, you know, waft out of of the room. And we just couldn't wait until we could try on Asari ourselves. Mm. Was she a an indulgent grandmother to you and your sisters? I think we didn't quite understand if she was, because she was always telling us off, disciplining us.

um, making us do things. We we used she had this list of chores and errands that we always had to do. Go and clean that and you know, peel the garlic and open this and i w sh whenever she came we were much busier than we'd ever been before and we weren't allowed to just run around and not do stuff. So when she came it was a matter of, yeah, chores, I think. But she did she did love us and she did look out for us, definitely, but she wasn't one of those cuddly grandmother types.

How did your family come to be in South Africa, India? They were fifth generation South African Indians who had their forefathers had arrived in South Africa in the eighteen forties, and they'd been part of of a large Indian diaspora at the time, where they were largely quite poor, uh, coastal dwellers in India,

who had been encouraged by the Dutch traders, Hey, you got we're g we' gon you're gonna have this great life in South Africa. You'll have your own house and a bit of land and some property. So get on the ship and come with us and it'll be a much better life than you have here. So that was the dream they thought they were buying into. But the reality was very different. They they largely became indentured labourers working on sugarcane plantations and it was a a very hard life

uh for for many generations. And of course then apartheid, the the you know, the um way that all the races were kept separate from each other made life even more difficult in the fifties and the sixties and seventies. And so that indoctrinated racism, discrimination made life in South Africa really impossible for anyone who wasn't white. So you know, then there's a large Indian community in South Africa that uh people don't often aren't aware of.

and they suffered in in very similar ways uh to the the the black African people as well. So for most of the Indians uh it was really a matter of

trying to get out if you could. If you could get an education, which was hard because again, you could only go to certain schools. You couldn't go to university in South Africa. Your families had to send you overseas. If you could get all of of that then if there was an opportunity that's what a lot of, you know, younger South Africans took and and my parents were were one of those. What opportunity did your dad have for study then when he was growing up in South Africa?

Well, you had to go to a school that uh for only Indians, so they that was what they both did. Uh and they weren't necessarily very good schools, but they were lucky. They they had very dedicated teachers and Yeah, they they did well at school, both of them, and my father again, with the support of his family, w was able to go and study dentistry in India. That was where he was sent. Hm. And how did they first meet one another, your mum and dad?

This was an era in South Africa, because South Africa was a country that was really locked in time. So anything that was happening in the 60s, you've got to take it back to the the 50s and the 40s.

because change didn't happen. They uh there was a lot of control over culture and and, you know, you couldn't go and see Elvis movies, the Beatles movies and and music was banned. So it was a very old fashioned culture even for the sixties and my parents met at a deputante ball where my mother was one of the young women coming out and she had just walked on stage and, you know, she was stunning and beautiful.

and my father was there with a a group his h his family and friends and they saw her as one of the debs and he thought, Yeah, I think she's the one. So then it was a very elaborate custom, especially in Indian

uh culture where you have to be chaperone. So his parents then had to contact another friend of theirs who then contacted my mother's parents and if those parents thought, you know, that this boy was going to be good uh son in law material, then they'd organise an afternoon tea and that's when they first m talked and met, with two sets of parents and a chaperone and the two of them in the one room.

Very romantic. Very true. Did the feelings go both way? Was your mum smitten with your dad, do you think? I think she was. I mean she she talks it down these days with Because it didn't end up exactly the way she expected it to. But yes, mum mum was always drawn to v very good looking men. So yeah, my dad ticked all those boxes, good looking and he had this extraordinary career ahead of him as well. So I think she thought that he was going to be someone that would really change her life.

As you say, Indira, this was a tumultuous time politically in South Africa. Were your parents active in in the politics of their country at the time?

Yeah, absolutely. I it was very hard to be a non white South African and not be political because it affected every aspect of your life, where you lived, where you went to school, the bus you caught, where you sat. So they were very uh involved um both at a student politics level and and and supporting any sort of cause uh whether it was the ANC or or international networks, Amn Amnesty International that were raising awareness around the world. So yeah, they were very, very politically active.

After after your family moved to Australia, you went on a family trip to New Zealand. What surprise did your mum and dad have in store? We thought Sarah that it was just going to be, you know, Christmas holidays and running around in the fields and eating, you know.

uh fish and chips, that sort of thing. But we after we landed and we were filling up the car and we'd spread out the roadmap over the bonnet of the car and Dad said to us, All right, now I have to tell you the main reason for this holiday is we're going to stop uh the uh um football team, the rugby team, South African rugby team, touring New Zealand because they are not letting any black people on the team.

And the New Zealanders don't understand what apartheid is and the terrible racism. We have to educate them. This is our mission, go. This is our mission girls, to stop the tour of the uh South African rugby, a spring box. And we went, okay, you know, we're sort of eight, nine, ten. We're up for it. Yeah, how are we gonna do that?

And Dad then pulled out these stickers that he had made in the shape of a football and they said, Don't play with apartheid on them and he said, What I want you to do is stick these everywhere you can, on phone booths, on park benches, in shop windows, so the message goes out, so all the locals who see this will realise that they can't, you know, play with apartheid and support this tour.

And then he said, But you've got to be careful because bill posting, putting these stickers up is illegal. So Don't let anyone catch you, otherwise you'll be thrown in jail like this. And we're going, No, we're not thanks. We're not gonna do that. That's crazy. Uh and so we said, No, we're not we're not doing that. That that really freaked us out. And then he said, All right. for every sticker you stick up, you can have an ice cream.

and for anyone who knows the quality of New Zealand ice cream, it it is the best in the world. It is so thick and creamy. And we were seeing posters when we were travelling around and there was, you know, exotic flavours and hokey pokey and They just every fruit and colour and uh we went, Okay, sure. We'll do it for a nice It is.

Which is a terrible bribe c considering my father's a dentist, so and that's what happened. So for every sticker we, you know, stuck up we we got an ice cream. But that first time we pulled up in front of her phone booth.

and that was going to be the first target for the first sticker. And we're all there with our stickers in the back seat of the car, but um me and my middle sister were petrified, neither of us wanted to be the first. And before we knew it, the side door on the other side flew open, outraces my younger sister Monica and she races to the phone bo booth and slaps the sticker and c and races back in and says

I want a ice cream of Hokey Pokey now, you know? And we just couldn't believe her daring that she'd just been the first one to go out there and do it. So it was a real insight into how she was quite fearless, you know, when she believed that there was that was the right thing to do, it didn't matter if it was illegal or the police were gonna catch her or anything. If that was the right thing to overturn apartheid, she was gonna support it.

And if there's an ice cream involved, all the better Uh why not? You can subscribe to the conversation. To find out more, Indira, not long after you were born, the family moved to London. What are your memories of of the city? I have to say, Sarah, it i it is the sort of t uh you know, typical way people look at uh England. Grey, raining. I don't remember seeing the sun at all. Uh but it was a very exciting time because there was huge waves of immigration

into where we were living on the outskirts of London from Eastern Europe and the subcontinent. So the variety of people around and the kids in my class were extraordinary. And they'd they'd gone through lots of difficult experiences as well. So I was growing up and learning very quickly about what was going on in other parts of the world because up up till then I knew a little bit about South Africa, but now I was learning about Romania.

and communism and you know the the horrible racial unrest that was happening in Bangladesh and and areas of Pakistan. So England became a quite a volatile time as well in the seventies. There was A lot of trade union activity, protests and strikes. there'd be street fighting sometimes in our street and bins set on fire. So as a little toddler my job was to go down the stairs and pick up the milk bottles from the door stop and often when I'd do that

I would see a couple of kids running down with masks over their face and th throwing Molotov cocktails and I'd go, Oh, right, okay. Uh and that that was just part of you know, that very volatile time that I remember in those in the mid seventies.

In terms of that class full of exciting kids from other parts of the world, you decided you wanted to have those kids over for your birthday party for for turning six. What did your mum think about that? Oh my god, I'm I'm actually feeling like a really naughty kid now when you say all these stories in a row like this. Well, I wanted to d I love a party, Sarah. I've always I think I was just born loving parties and my sixth birthday was coming up and I'd said to Mum

I want a party. And because we had two little kids, she had two little kids, you know, my sister was whatever, three and then a newborn, and dad was working and studying full time. She there was just no way she could handle a party and we didn't have a lot of money for a party either. And she said, Look, I'm really sorry. She explained to me. Next year maybe, but not this year. She was very clear about it.

I I just refused to accept that. I went to school and I hand wrote my own notes to the fifteen kids in the class. and said that I was having a birthday party this Friday. Take the note to your parents, tell them to catch the school bus that you'd catch the school bus with me home. And we were gonna have this fabulous birthday party at my place. We had a temp teacher and she

Uh, I just sort of said the last teacher knew about this and it was all gonna be fine and she just believed me. And so Friday came along and she helped all the fifteen kids onto the bus. And we all headed to this to my home and I was so excited. I was running up the footpath and up the steps to the house going, Oh, I'm having a party and then I knock on the door and mum answers and I see her face and she's got

Monica in her arm on her hip, sort of feeding her a bottle, and then my other little sister around her legs, and suddenly for the first time it hits me. Oh, that's right, Mum doesn't know. How are we gonna have a party? She doesn't know. So she just looked at me and the fifteen little kids behind me and I said, I'm here, we're here, we're gonna have a party, Mum. And the poor thing, she just was shock on her face and then suddenly she went into the mode, Okay, I'm gonna sort this out.

Went next door, got a neighbour to look after us, went down to the corner shop, bought some biscuits and some cordial, that's all she had, came back to the house and then fed fifteen children biscuits and cordial. And then had to sort of entertain us for two hours until the parents arrived. So Well was it a success? Were the kids happy with this turn of events in Dira? There was musical chairs, you know. I mean what's to moan about there and

Passed the parcel was a few little biscuits wrapped up in in paper. So that w that was brilliant. What a great game. I had the time of my life, but that last little girl that left when her father came to pick her up, and as they always do parents How did you go? Did you have a good time? And she looked at him and looked at me and looked at my mum and she said, It was the worst birthday party I've ever been to.

Oh my goodness. Well it was it was from the wild streets of London that your family embarked on a on a journey to Tasmania. What do you remember about getting off the plane in Hobart? I have never had a sense, I think, any other time in my life of I'm home. I just thought I don't know what this place is, but it is home. And it was that whiff of eucalypt that I smelt first. I think it was the quality of the light. It was so bright.

I had to squint and there were some kangaroos in the distance but also sheep and I thought, What is this place? you know? Where have we come to? But I was just immediately fascinated and mesmerized by it and Just couldn't wait to get stuck into it and just explore it and get to know it. I'd I was just so excited about being in Tasmania. What new look did your dad reveal the day after you arrived in Tasmania, Indira?

Oh dear. So we woke up the next morning and then we were going to head off to our new home in St Mary's. But when we came and ran into their their room in the hotel we were shocked because our father's hair had all disappeared overnight. And we went, What's happened to Dad? What's happened to Dad's hair? And we were explained by our parents that, Oh, you know, Dad decided to shave off his hair

Uh it's a new change, it's a new country, it's a new look. But of course he looked very odd to us'cause we were used to this full head of hair and it especially my younger sister Monica, she thought, No, this is a imposter, a stranger and she wouldn't go near him, she wouldn't let him hold her or touch her or anything And so we sort of, you know, for those first few weeks just

got used to our our fathers just suddenly overnight not having any hair. And we got used to it actually and you know, we thought, Oh well, if he wants to shave his hair every day and that that's fine, you know. That's what dads do. What what did you realise at some point later about that haircut? About three or four years later we were playing dress-ups in the garage and we were looking through all these old clothes in a big cardboard box.

clothes that we'd remembered, you know, from our parents' photo albums and they were just so much fun. Big maxi dresses and floppy hats and wedge heels. And Monica went into another section of one of the boxes and crawled away in it and then came out with the prize of the dress up. It was this triangular piece of of coarse hair on this plastic sort of bottom that looked like a

triangle from a bike or something, a bike seat. And we couldn't work out what it was. And we started sort of throwing it around and th working out, What what is this thing? And then it dawned on us that It was dad's hair. And he'd actually been wearing a toupee when we were little kids. And all he'd decided to do was just remove the toupee when he came to Australia. And he didn't throw it away. He'd put it in the dressing box and that's what we found. And of course Monica being naughty decided

This is a perfect opportunity to show off the toupee because our parents were inter you know, entertaining very important guests upstairs in the lounge. So she races upstairs wearing the toupee on her head. bursts through the door and then starts, you know, modelling Dad's toupee, embarrassing him terribly in front of all these visitors.

After about eight years or so of terrorizing the locals in Tasmania, the family moved moved back to Africa to Zimbabwe. What brought you there? Look, I'm still asking the same question to my parents. I don't know if they really know, really.

They just after a while I think, particularly my father, just kept on getting addicted to adventure and and change and new excitement and Zimbabwe had just got independence and so I think as a South African Indian waiting for his homeland to get its own independence from white rule, he was just so excited and thought, I wanna be part of that change in Zimbabwe and and help the local people.

because they'd lost a lot of expertise and they needed people to rebuild the country. That was part of it as well. And I think he he just had a problem with just settling down, really. So we arrived in Zimbabwe really not knowing

what the situation on the road was on the land on was going to be. And they were still at the tail end of the civil war. So there were still tanks coming through the streets every now and then Uh you'd still see skirmishes and and dead bodies on the side of the road when we'd sort of drive into town.

It was a very volatile time and to go into school, a new school in a country like that where everything was so divided on racial lines, black and white and Indian, everyone had their own patch and you couldn't talk to kids from other groups. And so we got thrown into that from Australia and uh we were Indian looking but we sounded Australian with these, you know, very ochre accents.

And we were well travelled and so everyone was quite fascinated with us and we were unusual in that we mixed with all the different groups. We were s sort of welcomed by all of them. But it was a very volatile time and we we only lasted there about three years before the Robert Mugabe rule clearly was very clear that he wasn't going to be any sort of Nelson Mandela and and he was a despot and and we got out of there as soon as we could.

What did all this moving around as as a kid in Dira mean for your relationship with your sisters, do you think? I mean it made us very tight because we kept on being uprooted from our friends and our family and our schools. And the only thing that really was consistent was the three of us. So we would have been tight, I'm sure, and close anyway, given our ages. But that constant relocation just made us very dependent on each other and very reliant on each other, yeah.

Do you think it it gave you your taste for news and current affairs too? Those kinds of experiences? Yeah. Must it must have, absolutely. Uh I mean I at from a young age saw the world that I was reporting on. Um I'd seen it, I'd

Uh you know, it wasn't theory to me. And journalism was an area we were all we were actually all attracted to because we're all interested in politics and current affairs and very committed to raising awareness about any of the injustices that we had seen around the world and and we saw journalism as a way to educating people about that. Australian TV was a very Anglo world when you started. What was that like for you?

Despite all that movement and all that exposure, I've never really s been aware of the way I am or the way I look. So I didn't think that that was so unusual. But of course, now looking back on it, I was always the only dark person in mostly every room I was in, you know. But I didn't particularly think that I was any different to anyone else. And it certainly particularly coming through

the ABC, it was one of the best places that just supported you if you had ability and talent. But of course, it must have been such an unusual thing, and I know now looking back on it, particularly now that it's so wonderful to see so much more diversity, on television and radio, it would have been such an unusual sight to to have me up there amongst uh all those Anglo faces.

As you the three of you went and began pursuing your own careers um as you were getting into your twenties, what happened to the closeness you had a as kids? Did that continue as you moved into your adult life? It did because we carried on house sharing, the three of us. So our parents uh split up when we were about I was about eighteen. And so we all got a share house together and went through university uh sharing houses really for for most of our twenties.

And then it was only then that I moved to Sydney, uh, we started marrying and getting partners and lived in different cities. So I lived in Sydney my middle sister in Adelaide and my younger sister in Melbourne, that was really the first time in our lives that we'd been separated just from geography and and where our work and families took us.

We stayed very close but we didn't physically see each other a a whole lot. You know, it was only every couple of months or when work took us to one of those cities. So We weren't as physically close but we still stayed, you know, very tight through phones and and that sort of communication.

And what kind of career was Manica building for herself? Journalism as well. So she was a brilliant, brilliant writer and and and a and really interesting thinker. So she uh was a copy girl at The Australian, then she got a cadet chip at the Age newspaper in Melbourne and

moved through the ranks really quickly. She covered I think it was the Q fires where a nursing home um a couple of the residents were killed and had to be evacuated. And she covered that as a group of aged journalists and won a Walkley Award. for their coverage on that. And then, you know, sort of got a little bit disheartened with where journalism was going and decided to move into politics and then worked as a a political advisor.

for Steve Brax and then Dan Andrews in Melbourne, but really built a a a really successful media political career as well. So she was a real success in that in that environment, but it's a fast paced one, a lot of deadlines, a lot of stress. How was she coping with that aspect of of her profession? She'd always been a very shy uh person with a tendency to be anxious.

Nothing that seemed unusual, but once she got into those high pressure environments, which, you know, even for people who are pretty resilient can be qu quite uh confronting and demanding. it it started to really start fracturing with her and she started finding other ways to cope with the pressure, the expectation, the stress, not doing the right things, not getting, you know, sort of mental health support.

uh, drinking more than she probably should. She was, you know, almost a chain smoker as well. So she was done doing all the wrong things really to support her m her mental health and her her well being. Were you worried about her, India? I was, I was. Particularly the last six six years where she became a little more distant from both me and my sister.

and she didn't want to address those those challenges the right way. And because everything, you know, she had a beautiful husband and daughter and a a lovely home and this extraordinary creative life and career It seemed that she was holding it together, you know, she was seeming to to manage it. But I could see the stress points and and I was concerned that it was all heading in, you know, the wrong direction.

How did you find out that she had taken her own life? I got a phone call uh one night after I came back from my work shift and It was in the middle of Melbourne's first lockdown. So I knew that it was going to be a very difficult time for her because she swam every day. And that was one of the good ways that she managed her mental health. And unfortunately during lockdowns all the public swimming pools were closed. So I knew that it was going to be a real struggle for her.

uh without any support and and medication and not having that swim that she relied on every day. So when I got the call that she'd taken her life, it was obviously just the most seismic shock, but part of me had feared over those last few weeks. that something terrible was going to happen because she was going to be so isolated and and disconnected from the mechanisms she usually used uh to get herself through some of those dark periods.

You you write in the book that that suicide leaves wreckage in its wake and that people make their own way through that differently. What did it look like for you? Did you take time much time off work? We, Sarah, were in the middle of, you know, this pandemic where because of the restrictions, the closed borders, even though we went to Melbourne

uh, only twenty of us were allowed to gather for the funeral, which was a very difficult thing to go through. Any family that had to do that during the pandemic I really feel for them because that's uh such a cruel thing to do um to people in their moment of grief. Had to everyone have to decide, No you can go, no you can't. It's it's gonna be terrible for their healing.

And so we went through all of that, but then to spend time together, it was also illegal for to gather in groups in houses at the time. So we couldn't support each other because only these many people were allowed in a house at a certain amount in time. So it just wasn't realistic to remain in Melbourne or to go anywhere really and be with family because you it was illegal to do it.

So the only choice we had was to come back to our home in Sydney and just hope that the borders would open soon and then we could all be reunited and be able to be together. But of course That didn't happen. It went on for months and months and on and off for two years, really. So during that time there wasn't really much option uh other than to to go back to work. So I think I took about a week and a half off and then, you know, went back to to work.

The the morning after you received that phone call with that terrible news when the next day nothing in your ordinary life makes sense. What did you have the urge to do? To just run. to just run but run away from myself. I wanted to leave me behind and run away from me. It was a a very strange sensation, which of course impossible to realise.

So I went for this r a long walk really and it was a blur. I don't didn't even know where I was staggering to. I just remember pulling on, you know, my trackies and my cap and some music and just running down the s the street and then down the stairs uh to the naval base and I found myself in the Sydney Royal Botanic Gardens. I don't even know how I got there.

And suddenly I felt this extraordinary sense of calm descend on me and there was a like a green radiance from the branches of all the trees around me. I thought, Oh, this is a safe place, I can sit here so I sat down

and I realized right above me were the branches of one tree, and they must have stretched for about twenty meters. I couldn't believe this tree was so big, and it had the most glorious tr uh trunks so wide with these sort of sinews and and roots that would come out of it all the way down the hillside like the arms of a dinosaur, all scaly and claury and And being with that tree just immediately made me feel so comforted and I realized that I could sit with this tree

And it didn't ask me how to e express, you know, how I was feeling. It didn't want me to talk to it. It didn't share its grief with me. It it just allowed me to be and be quiet and still, which is such an important process to go through when you're grieving and it became my tree. I would visit this tree most days, do a long walk through the gardens and then just sit. And it was so healing and so comforting.

And it opened my eyes up to all the other bits of urban nature. So even though I was locked in during these lockdowns to my five kilometer zone, I discovered all these wonders of nature that I'd ignored for all these years. I just trampled over them blindly while I was focusing on my phone or my device and I realized the beauty of this feather. It look at the colours. Feel the softness against your cheek and blow on it and see how it quivers. Or there'd be these beautiful weeds.

that would be growing out of cracks with tiny little, you know, white petaled flowers and I'd think, how does it survive in that crack? How do that seed or those roots even take hold there? And if a weed can survive in those cracks, Maybe maybe I can learn from this weed and learn how I can survive and put myself back together after this horrific loss in my life.

And so looking at nature and the little bits of urban nature around me made me realize that there was still a lot to be grateful for in my life and I still had a beautiful life and there was still lots of joy to be had and through that connection uh I started to heal.

It's a it's a funny thing. When we go through a terrible grief, it's like a a layer gets ripped off, even if only temporarily and and we're open to our surroundings in a way perhaps we're we're not normally when we're cocooned in in everyday life. But it's like you can get exposed to to what's around you in a new way through that kind of grief.

You're right, Sarah. Y'cause you go very raw and you feel a whole layer of skin has been peeled off. But then also what happens is all your senses get very heightened. And so a ray of sun on your cheek feels like no ray of sun you've ever felt before. When a breeze comes through and rustles through the leaves, that sound and that tinkering that you hear and the shimmer you can almost sense. your your ears are so acute, it's quite extraordinary. Your your senses do become very enlivened.

When when someone takes their own life I think one of the incredibly challenging things in its wake is the search for an explanation. And there's never one. There's never an answer that can heal that grief that's there. How are you with that that why at this point? I weirdly, right from the beginning, knew that I wasn't gonna find a why. So I never even went there.

But I knew that I had to find meaning. What is the meaning for why this has happened? What what is the calling? What is what is your role? What are you meant to take from this? And I'm sure now, when I look back on it, that writing this book has been the meaning that I was meant to uh get from from my sister's death. because what it did for me was make me realise that yes, you've gone through this loss, but you've also experienced something that is universal. There is

so much loss. Everyone will go through loss in their life. And it doesn't have to be like my sort of loss. It can be uh you could be going through breast cancer, you can lose someone in a traffic accident, you can lose a relationship, a career, a dream. And a lot of us obviously, especially now, are going through quite extreme losses and anxieties and on on so many different levels. But

I think what helped me get through the worst of my grief and and it's a long process, you know. It'll take years to it'll always sit there as as just a a a deep sadness and a sorrow and and then a melancholy. It never really goes away, grief. But I really wanted to look at it as in the most positive way. And the thing about grief is you can only grieve if you've loved.

And loving is a good thing. You know, so when you're grieving it means you've loved something, you've loved someone and that's amazing, you know. And when I think about it that way, I realise that that is a big love, that's a deep love, and that's a good love because

through my work at the Wayside Chapel, the Homeless Crisis Centre in Potts Point, there are a lot of people who don't get loved and get forgotten long before they die. And that's so much worse than, you know, in a way, a lot of people grieving for you.

It's interesting, Indira, when you were recounting those stories of of your naughty childhood and joyful childhood together, you you s you tell those stories with such joy and such fondness. It it doesn't feel like the loss of your sister as has has l has tainted those memories for you? No, not at all. In fact, reliving those memories has just made me appreciate not only who she was.

but how special that time was that we had. I I just f feel lucky that I can write, because I know not a lot of people can write in their grief, and I always kept in my mind my niece is face, really, because these are stories I want her to read in a few years' time and remember and know what her mother was like, particularly when she was young, you know, and just how

extraordinary she was and how she lit up every room and and she had such charisma. Even as a little kid. They are it's just such a a much better joyous way to to remember her. So Yeah, I'm it hasn't at all colored the way I look at it. If if anything, I feel closer and more in love with my sister than I did when she was alive. In death

I feel this intimacy and connection. I feel her more with me than than before. I've heard people say that when people close to them have died, but I had no idea that I would feel that myself. Indira, thank you for for sharing your story on conversations. It's been my pleasure. Really enjoyed it. Thanks a lot, Sarah. Indira Naidu was my guest on Conversations today and Indira's book about losing her sister and turning to nature to help with her grief is called The Space Between the Stars.

If this conversation has made you realize you need to talk to someone, then Lifeline is always there. You can ring them on thirteen eleven fourteen. That's thirteen eleven fourteen. I'm Sarah Kunoski. Thanks for listening. You've been listening to a podcast of Conversation. Discover more great ABC podcasts, live radio and exclusives on the ABC Listen app.