Delhi, India

I have lived in Delhi for twenty-two years now, and when I first moved at the age of six, it was a very different city. Back then, we’d drive through neem, khor and jamun forests to get to the city centre, forests now lost beneath expressways and malls. In two decades, Delhi has swelled into the world’s second largest city after Greater Tokyo, and as a result it often gets a bad reputation among travellers as a grotty, chaotic sprawl. Yet its also one of the most astonishing cities on Earth; a city of endless layers like Rome, Cairo or Istanbul, with each neighbourhood concealing the ruins of forgotten empires. For centuries, caravans crossed the deserts of Rajasthan and the scrublands of the Doab just for a glimpse of this glittering imperial capital, and in the early twentieth century, it was transformed into the second capital of the British Empire. It’s a frustrating and intense city in many ways, but one that also teaches you to be calm amidst chaos, and one that sparks endless fascination about the past.

Avebury, UK

At thirteen, I moved from India to a boarding school in Wiltshire and learnt, with a shock, that I didn’t really know or understand Britain. It felt cold in every sense – socially, emotionally and literally. But I soon found respite at Avebury: a nearby Neolithic stone circle that looped through fields, hedgerows, and even a pub garden. Unlike its famous and far smaller cousin at Stonehenge, at Avebury you can walk among the stones, feel the lichen, and if you’re lucky watch as badgers dart into burrows. Here I first became obsessed with the sacred barrows, chalk paths and burial mounds of ancient Britain, and with Britain itself.

Bamiyan, Afghanistan

Afghanistan is not the most obvious destination for a family half-term holiday. And yet, in October 2014, we made our way to Bamiyan – a high-altitude valley suspended between the Koh-i-Baba and Hindu Kush mountain ranges. Bamiyan means “Place of Shining Light”, and the valley is dotted with mulberry orchards and wildflower pastures, while Hazara shepherds tend their flocks along ancient rivulets. Bamiyan was once a thriving Buddhist centre, with more caves than Ajanta or Dunhuang, and its two colossal Buddha statues were the tallest standing Buddhas in the world until they were destroyed by the Taliban in 2001. By the end of the trip, I was hooked. Having never been much of a linguist (I wanted to study quantum physics), I enrolled in Persian classes online, and ended up studying the subject at university. Some years later I even made my way back to intern with Turquoise Mountain, Rory Stewart’s extraordinary charity dedicated to reviving Afghan heritage. It was the biggest pivot in my life, and I haven’t looked back since.

Lahore, Pakistan

In 2017, I moved to Lahore for a month to work on architectural conservation with the Aga Khan Trust for Culture. The city’s poetry and historic charm quickly made it my favourite city in the subcontinent. More importantly, Lahore felt surprisingly close to home – its architecture, food, music and layout mirrored Delhi’s, despite lying on the opposite side of the world’s most militarised border. Like Delhi, Lahore is ancient and was once a cosmopolitan capital of the Ghaznavid, Mughal, and Sikh empires, home to Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Jains and Christians until the upheaval of Partition in 1947. The conversations I had there about Partition transformed my life, leading me to record survivors’ memories that have ultimately formed the bedrock of my new book.

Mexico City, Mexico

The most recent addition to my list, I visited Mexico City this April and it blew me away. Teotihuacan, the vast pyramid city built around the time Jesus was crucified, is arguably the greatest architectural ensemble in the Americas, and there is no better challenge to our Eurasia-centric ideas of classical civilisation. Mexico City’s centre, with its beautiful squares, colonial avenues and striking brutalist buildings, is equally impressive. Few places have surprised me as much.