For as long as I can remember, a cockroach sat nestled inside a University of Aberystwyth, Wales mug on my nanny’s hutch—quietly perched between family photos and teapots. Long before it found its place there, this peculiar keepsake had crossed continents, lovingly wrapped in toilet paper—from India to Southall, Brazil to Australia, London to New York.

My maternal great-grandparents were born in Madras, India, in the 1910s, but our roots there trace back to the early 1730s. Though British by blood and privilege, my ancestors had lived in India for generations—long enough to call it home. They identified as Anglo-Indian, weaving Hindi customs and culture into their daily lives. It’s important to acknowledge the colonial power they were part of, but equally essential to recognize how deeply India shaped their identity.

After India gained independence, my great-grandparents left the country they loved and settled in England in 1957, carrying with them their most treasured belongings. Among them was a delicate, preserved cockroach—a strange yet powerful symbol of the life they left behind. It has since passed through the hands of my nanny, my mum, and now, mine.

This fragile creature—wrapped in toilet paper and memory—holds more than the oddity of a family heirloom. It carries with it the weight of cultural tradition, migration, and belonging. A quiet witness to history, it reminds us that heritage is not always loud or visible. Sometimes, it lives in the smallest, most unexpected things.

– Priscilla Smouse

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant