Naag Mountain is about the legacy of Indian indentured labour on sugar cane plantations in Fiji owned by the Colonial Sugar Refining Company. While writing, I would go to the sugar cane fields in Northern New South Wales that were once owned by this Australian company. I would touch the leaves. I would listen for ghosts. Perhaps the most important aspect of my practice that was nurtured during this time was the entwining of the unseen with the natural world.

I wrote Naag Mountain during the humpback whale migration from Antarctica to the subtropical birthing waters of northern Australia. On writing breaks, I would drive my Mazda 626 to the sea. Here, whales leapt out of the water, almost touching the sky. Amidst the archival documents I was reading detailing horror and exploitation of historical indenture, the cetaceans were representations of the divine – colossal, enigmatic and innately poetic.

Humpback whales began appearing in dreams, becoming guiding figures for the manuscript. Naag Mountain was written partly by following instructions I was receiving in my dreams, and although I never mentioned the migrating whales in the published book, they were there.

It was during this time I was able to immerse in the intrinsic creativity of the natural world – the trees, waterways and skies of Bundjalung country, in the same way I used to as a child in Fiji. I learned to listen. I learned that every wave came with a new vision. I would turn to the sea to find answers. I found it in dolphins in the river, the double rainbows arching over the M1 highway and in the amber clouds that dressed the peak of Wollumbin at dawn.