As you watch England play India in the cricket – you may well recall the Tebbit Cricket Test. The readers of this paper are of course either British or living here and mostly all of Indian heritage.
We often forget how entwined British and Indian histories truly are, but the tradition of Indians serving in the British Armed Forces reaches back generations, including my own family. Both my grandfather and great-grandfather fought valiantly during the Second World War, a conflict in which over 2.5 million Indian soldiers volunteered to serve in the British Indian Army—the largest volunteer force in history. Their courage helped turn the tide in theatres spanning North Africa, Italy, and Burma.
The legacy of Indian service in British uniform did not end with the Second World War. The decades that followed saw countless sons and daughters of Indian heritage step up to serve in the Royal Air Force, Royal Navy, and British Army. One poignant contemporary example is Flight Lieutenant Rakesh Chauhan, a British-Indian RAF officer who tragically lost his life in Afghanistan in 2014. His sacrifice reminds us that the values of duty and honour transcend cultural lines and unify us under a single standard—service to protect liberty and peace.
Yet for all the heroism and respect that should naturally flow from this shared tradition, I occasionally hear voices from within my own community deriding me as a “lackey” for being a British Indian who received an OBE. It is a perplexing label, not least because I am also related to Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, one of the towering figures of India’s freedom struggle. To call me—or anyone similarly placed—a “lackey” undermines not only the service my family made during the Second World War, but also the sacrifices of all those who served to uphold ideals of freedom around the globe.
Ironically, such derogatory comments say less about the target and more about the speaker. They highlight how some individuals fail to grasp the nuance of dual heritage. My British identity does not negate my Indian roots, nor does my Indian identity dilute my British citizenship. We are all products of multiple influences, and in many ways, my life and family story underscore the tapestry of modern Britain—where a child can wave the Union Flag while claiming proud lineage from Indian independence heroes.
In the end, my son’s photograph is more than a mere snapshot. It is a reflection of continuity—of past generations who fought for ideals transcending boundaries, and of future generations who will carry that spirit forward. As the Royal Crest states: Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense; Shame on anyone who thinks ill of this.
