A gentle love story | Review of Once Upon a Summer by Manjul Bajaj

Every memorable love story, especially one that endures, hinges on a serious hurdle, whether social, political, or rooted in class. In stories set in colonial times, the romance between an Indian man and a British woman serves as a powerful narrative device. This dynamic appears in Gulshan Nanda’s Palay Khan (later adapted into a film) and Ruskin Bond’s A Flight of Pigeons (filmed as Junoon), where the backdrop of rebellion or unrest amplifies the tension and heightens the dangers of the relationship.

Manjul Bajaj’s Once Upon a Summer follows the same course, but unlike the two novels mentioned above, it is far removed from the upheaval of rebellion. It tells a gentler, more restrained love story between an Indian syce (stablehand or groom) and the daughter of a senior British official. Here, class and racial identity create the central stakes.

The novel begins in 1950s New York, where the narrator, a Manhattan-based publisher (whose identity and connection to the protagonists, Azeem and Madeline, are not revealed here, as that would be a major spoiler), tells a story that begins in the early 20th century.

This narrative takes readers across continents and decades, offering glimpses into the political and social climate of the period. It shows how Azeem, a stablehand in Nainital, could captivate and transform Madeline, an English girl, defying the rigid boundaries of their world. Both characters are endearing, and the fact that they are based on real-life figures makes readers connect with them even more.

Their journey stretches from Nainital’s hill station to Quetta, Aden, Baghdad, Portugal, and finally the United States. Differences in colour, class, race, and upbringing make their union unthinkable to society, with each step toward one another shadowed by risk.

Author Manjul Bajaj

Memories of a bygone era

In addition to the main protagonists’ journey, the historical and literary details of the time give the story richness and also immerse the reader in the feel of the period. The first Urdu novel, Umrao Jaan Ada by Mirza Hadi Ruswa, published by a renowned press of its time in Lucknow, recurs throughout the book, almost like a character. Additionally, a discussion of Hindi and Urdu explains how British policies deepened linguistic divisions, shaping Hindustani into separate Hindi and Urdu identities. 

There are some minor characters who leave a lasting impression, such as Mira. Bajaj threads in social observation through Mira, a Dalit woman who converts to Christianity in search of dignity. Though she has a much better and more dignified life, Mira recognises that conversion does not remove the barriers imposed by skin colour. At one point, she tells Azeem that no matter how fluent his English, the British will never see him as one of their own. In their eyes, he will always be an outsider. 

Though the writing is lyrical, the novel opens slowly, demanding patience from the reader. The pace improves in the latter half as both protagonists take charge and confront the challenges to their love. Nainital’s pine-scented trails, shifting light and colonial codes are more than a backdrop; they infuse the story with atmosphere and texture.

Part of the story is set in Manhattan’s publishing world, though this section feels slight, with the industry’s workings merely outlined. A few more pages might have added depth to this part of the narrative.

The sections from the point of view of the daughter and granddaughter, though sincere, interrupt the main narrative. Despite that, reading Once Upon a Summer is like finding an old photograph in a family album, its edges worn but its faces still vivid. It fills you with satisfaction and a feel-good warmth.

The reviewer is the author of ‘Patna Blues’ and ‘A Man from Motihari’.

Once Upon a Summer

Manjul Bajaj

HarperCollins India

₹499

Published – March 09, 2026 02:12 pm IST