The preparations had started six months ago. British Council hunted down more than 50 Indian writers from various parts of the world. The list of participants alone promised to make the event special. From the Infosys’ Nandan Nilekani to Bengali novelist Sankar; from Suketu Mehta in New York to Vikram Seth in UK; from regional language stalwarts to the top screenwriters – for the first time ever, this mix of Indian writers was truly Indian in representation. For every literary award winner, there was a potboiler author. For every non-fiction writer, there was a poet. There were so many of us, if you put all our books together, you would have a medium sized  bookshop.

We reached London on a rainy April evening. However, the next day, as if specified by the British Council, the sun came out nice and bright. In fact, The London Book Fair week turned out to be the hottest April week in a century - perfect for tropical guests.

In this fantastic weather, one would have thought there would be a big incentive to skip a few sessions and go out shopping in London. However, the heat inside Earl’s Court in the seminar rooms was no less enticing. The sessions had strong opinionated arguments – why regional language publishing is given step motherly treatment? Why is the West so obsessed by India of the past? What does it take to win in the Indian publishing market?

The sessions had immense fun – poet Jeet Thayil recommended wearing tight T-shirts to book launches. The sessions had enormous wisdom – screenwriter Javed Akhtar mentioning how regional languages need to remain relevant and economically useful for their literature to thrive. In fact, I’d give up a trip to Harrod’s any day to attend some of those sessions again.

In all this, the British Council hosted us better than traditional Indian in-laws. Every evening there were wonderful arties – one at the Indian Consulate another at the lovely Kensington Gardens, and many more. There was even a cricket match between the writers and publishers at the Hampstead Cricket Club, complete with cricket attire and kits.

And if that wasn’t all, there was a book launch and cocktails at the House of Lords, no less. Everyone stayed at one hotel, making the lobby abuzz with activity where patient British Council staff would help guests with anything – from finding directions to the tube station to ensuring everyone reaches the party on time.

I remember the bus rides to the various party venues – I’d share my seat with a big literary star each time and wouldn’t want the journey to end. I had Tarun Tejpal, who continued to write  what he believed in despite several attempts on his life. I had Indrajit Hazra, who not only is a novelist, but has a funkiest op-ed column of any newspapers in the country.

In all this, what I felt best about was that I wasn’t alone. There were a lot of people apart from me who cared about India and its books. All of us there had one thing in common – we were passionate about India, and we were passionate about literature. Today, we may be back in our own places, but the biggest takeaway is that there are quite a few of us who would like to see a thriving literature scene in India.

There are a few times I have felt fortunate in being a writer. The trip to The London Book Fair is definitely one of them. In daily life we rarely get a chance to express gratitude. But I, on behalf of all Indian writers, want to say a big thank you to British Council for bringing Indian literature to world stage, and making us have a good time in the bargain.

And if you ever want to take me again – just  call.