Penningtons Manches Cooper celebrates South Asian Heritage Month 2026

My name is Vaahine and I am a paralegal in the medical negligence and personal injury team in the Guildford office, and an incoming trainee in September 2026. In honour of South Asian Heritage Month, I hope to shed some light and share my experiences.

As a British South Asian, born in London, my identity is shared across two countries: Britain, my home country; and Sri Lanka, where my parents are from.

In the house, my parents spoke Tamil and growing up around my Ammappa and Ammamma (maternal grandparents) meant that from a young age, I spoke Tamil. My first spoken word was in Tamil, and from the food cooked at home to the clothes we wear to events, Tamil culture influences my daily habits, interests and family. Tamils are a minority community in Sri Lanka, and whilst there is no Tamil-majority country, there are communities across South Asia.

I grew up in cosmopolitan London. As South Asian immigrants, my parents instilled the importance of working hard and studying. I imagine this is common across many communities, but the importance of studying hard and pursuing professional careers stemmed from the idea that, without established roots and history in the UK, education and grit are the only ways to succeed.

Coming from a minority community in Sri Lanka, my parents did not have the same educational opportunities as I did. With the displacement of Tamils during the Sri Lankan civil war, the Tamil community is internationally spread, with large groups across Europe, Canada, and the US. My parents were children when tensions between minority Tamils and the Sinhalese majority began, and for decades a violent civil war ensued, resulting in the deaths of over 70,000, and the displacement of 800,000 Tamils.

Sri Lanka often receives media attention for being a paradise island, and whilst tensions have somewhat settled, we yearn for recognition of the injustice. Considering how small the island is, it is horrifying that Sri Lanka has one of the world’s highest number of disappearances, with an estimated 100,000 vanishing since the 1980s. My parents have lost loved ones, witnessed the bombings of their houses, schools and towns, and faced the cruel reality that they were no longer welcome in their home country. My grandparents stayed behind in Sri Lanka initially and sold their property and belongings to fund my parents’ journey to the UK.

Coming to the UK, neither of my parents had strong educational backgrounds and they worked odd jobs and in retail, striving to ensure that my siblings and I never faced the struggle that they did. They coached me at home, pushed me to pursue a grammar school education, and ensured that I didn’t take opportunities for granted. As the first graduate in my family and as a working woman, my accomplishments are testament to the sacrifice of my parents and the inclusive opportunities available in the UK.

When people think of South Asia, I imagine India and Pakistan come to mind, but we rarely think of the smaller countries, and often our cultures are completely different. As a Tamil with cultural roots in Jaffna, Sri Lanka, I have more in common with a South Indian Tamil than I do with Sinhalese Sri Lankans. North Indians are more likely to understand someone from Pakistan than someone from South India, due to the similarities between Hindi and Urdu. Division in South Asia receives more media attention, and we are often pitted against each other, but our South Asian identity is spread across multiple regions and countries. In my studies, I’ve found that Tamil culture has influenced and been influenced by Portuguese, Dutch, British, Indian, Thai, Malaysian, Singaporean, Korean, and a myriad of other countries, and these continue to affect us every day, whether through borrowed vocabulary, imported goods, or practices.

I don’t believe there is a single South Asian common upbringing. We all take bits and pieces of our culture, and as South Asian diaspora we are assimilated into British culture as much as our South Asian culture. Despite this, I believe there are common threads. One thing about South Asian diaspora that I have noticed is how assimilation into British culture is independent to South Asian identity, and how you were raised, the language, and the people you grow up around shape the balance of the bicultural impact on identity. It’s individualistic and nurtured by your environment. Growing up in South London meant that I had a strong Tamil community around me, whereas Tamils growing up in remote areas of the UK will likely have a vastly different experience.

Every Sunday, I went to my local temple in Wimbledon, and though I was dragged there in my childhood against my will (strangely enough, as a child I did not want to spend my weekends studying!), I now enjoy spending my Sundays praying and seeing friends, volunteering my time to teach and serve food to the community. In the Tamil community, we have a word called விருந்தோம்பல் (Virunthombal), which has no direct translation in English, but the closest is hospitality. It’s core to our identity and the principle is that guests should be treated as family. My mum often tells me how as a child, she’d run home from school only to find empty pots and pans and my grandma hurrying to make a second batch of food, because my grandad had brought disadvantaged and elderly people from the village to eat lunch.

For me, I can count numerous times where we’ve visited restaurants with family and friends and there is an actual fight as to who pays the bill. Watching a group of mild-mannered middle-aged people turn into WWE fighters and strategic savants in order to pay the bill is a sight to behold. Whilst comical to watch, it links back to the strength of community, and throughout all South Asian cultures this ‘love thy neighbour’ principle is deeply rooted within the community. In my study of Tamil literature, I learned a poem from புறநானூறு (Puranaanooru), an anthology of poems, written in sixth century BCE, which contains a line, யாதும் ஊரே யாவரும் கேளிர், that means ‘Every city is your city. Everyone is your kin’; this remains to underpin the values we continue to hold dear in the 21st century.

Where my experience differs is that unlike my parents, I grew up in London, a multicultural hub, around a large number of different ethnic communities. But it was English and British culture which united us. At school, it was often the little things that we all bonded over: Wednesday roast dinners, singing assembly, country dancing, Duke of Edinburgh expeditions, the London Olympics, Will and Kate’s wedding, just to name a few!

The most difficult thing I’ve found is balancing Tamil cultural expectations whilst navigating childhood, being a teenager, and now adulthood. My Sundays were dedicated to going to Tamil Sunday School, where I eventually completed a GCSE and A-Level in Tamil, and returned to the school as a teacher. It’s an honour to experience both sides of the coin, though I much prefer studying! It turns out teaching a group of 20 seven year olds a 247-letter alphabet is no easy feat!

It is a privilege to honour my culture in a continuous way, and this is truly an ode to my parents, who pushed me to pursue Tamil-oriented extra-curricular activities. I am proud to say that I have a diploma in Bharathanatyam (a South Indian dance) and Carnatic Music (South Indian singing), and these learning experiences have allowed me to fall in love with cultural arts that link to my heritage. To become ‘more British’, my parents also enrolled me in piano lessons, chess, rugby and basketball (though this was short-lived; just to re-iterate, I am not good at rugby and basketball!) and the local drama academy.

Through these classes and learning, I have made friends from many different ethnicities, and I can truly say that multiculturalism in this country is the only reason I’ve been able to experience both British and South Asian culture and maintain a dual cultural identity. Unlike my parents and community, I did not grow up fearing for my life in armed conflict and civil unrest. London is well and truly my home and it’s a privilege to grow up with more opportunities and freedom than my parents had. Despite a small minority of people arguing otherwise, beyond comment sections and controversial media outlets, this country celebrates diversity and multiculturalism is a strength.

South Asian historical inventions continue to shape the world, and we owe a lot of our understanding to the geniuses of the past. The C-section was developed by Chanakya, a royal adviser, who invented the method to save the heir of the Mauryan empire. Shampoo was introduced to the West by Indian traders, and prior to this, the British were using soap, egg washes, and shaving soap mixtures to wash hair. Cashmere wool owes its heritage to shawls made in Kashmir, India. I’ve listed just a few examples here, as I’m conscious that this is not a history lesson, but I wanted to highlight a few of the ways in which South Asians have shaped the modern world and continue to make strides in innovation.

An experience that I have faced throughout school and in the workplace is being confident about my name and fitting into environments. As someone with a cultural name (Vaahine: pronounced var(like car)-hini (like mini)), I have often been pushed to adopt a nickname in order to fit in. One way to acknowledge South Asian identity in the workplace may be to be honest if you struggle with pronunciation of a name. Often, it may feel awkward to admit that the pronunciation is difficult, but I’d be delighted that you are making the effort to give it a go! In school, it used to upset me when the teacher would read the register and immediately pause before my name, hesitating and waiting for me to chime in and offer the correct pronunciation, but I found that after correcting teachers a few times, they made the effort and this made my experience much more pleasant.

Names are important and intrinsic to our identity, and rather than chipping away at my name to make it more Romanised, surely the acceptance of ethnic names and pronunciation is the right step forward in celebrating our united diversity. If I had a pound for every time a teacher or person of authority has pointed at me or beckoned me to avoid saying my name wrong, I’d be able to retire comfortably. It’s often demoralising and can make you feel uncomfortable. So, in honour of South Asian Heritage Month, I’d like to highlight the importance of our names in celebrating our identity and culture, and hope that I can convince you to make an active effort to pronounce foreign names or inspire those with foreign names to give up their nickname, and encourage the correct pronunciation of their names. Over the years, I’ve heard some questionable variations of names (from Vaahine to Vashi, and Nagulendran to Mark), and ultimately it enables indifference and leads to the loss of cultural names. Here, at Penningtons Manches Cooper, in my experience, people try to learn, and our community is incredibly diverse, which is testament to our growth.

On a final note, I’d like to discuss the future of South Asian cultural identity. In the burning of Jaffna Library, my community lost centuries of Tamil history, but as diaspora, we’ve embraced a new identity: British South Asian. We are integrated and balance both cultures in navigating life. As we continue our futures in the UK, and as future generations of British South Asians continue to remain in Britain, it’s important that we celebrate our unique dual identities, which only unite and enrich our culture in the United Kingdom.

Writing this was difficult. It feels like an impossible task to describe ‘South Asian’ experiences in the UK – South Asian Heritage Month refers to people living in the UK whose heritage originated from eight different countries (most of which I have never visited: Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, India, The Maldives, Nepal, Pakistan and Sri Lanka), totalling approximately five million people. I stared at a blank page, wondering how on earth I was to encapsulate all of these diverse and vibrant experiences?

The truth is that one person can never accurately speak for millions of others. And yet, for many individuals of ethnic minority backgrounds in the UK, a shared experience is the feeling of being expected to do just that. Whenever I describe ‘Indian’ traditions or festivals to non-Indian individuals, I feel acutely conscious that my experiences are not even accurate for the state in India from which my family originates: Gujarat. Gujarat has a population of 73 million people – more people than there are in the entire UK (and yet only 5% of India’s population!). Within Gujarat there are 33 districts and over 18,000 villages, each with their own cultures, traditions, privileges and struggles. I can’t possibly speak for all of them. It would be like asking a born-and-bred Scouser about their life and then assuming their experiences also apply to Southerners, Londoners, people from the Midlands, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland!

So I’ll just speak to my own experience – my family’s journey into the UK, how this has shaped my experiences, and what this year’s theme for South Asian Heritage Month – ‘unity in diversity’ – means to me.

My family’s journey into the UK

My mum and dad both have origins in Gujarat, albeit in different villages. They were both ‘Patels’ before and after marriage. And, no, they were not related – there are approximately 15 million people with the surname ‘Patel’ in Gujarat (almost twice the number of people in London!). They both moved to the UK as children, but their circumstances were vastly different.

My maternal grandparents grew up and lived in Gujarat but moved to Kenya, where they worked as GPs. However, in 1984, my mum and her parents left it all behind and moved to the UK to support a vulnerable and bereaved family member. Life was extremely tough and they worked 15-16 hour days in an off-licence shop in East London, struggling to make ends meet. Eventually, my maternal grandmother managed to return to medicine and spent years as an NHS doctor, whilst my maternal grandfather was employed in a post office, both of them working around the clock to serve their communities and raise their daughter. Their sacrifices are what made it possible for my mum, and by extension me, to live better lives in the UK.

In stark contrast, whilst having ancestral roots in Gujarat, my dad and his four siblings were born in Uganda, Africa. Many generations beforehand, the British had forcibly moved hundreds of thousands of Indian natives to Africa and treated them as indentured labourers. However, fast forward some generations later, many of these Indians put down roots and grew to thrive. My dad’s family was one of those families. They loved their lives in Uganda and lived an affluent lifestyle.

Dark days arrived in 1972 when President Idi Amin took power in Uganda and passed an expulsion order requiring all Asians to flee the country within 90 days, or else. In reality, the ‘expulsion’ was commenced far in advance of the 90 day deadline. Soon after the expulsion order was announced, my grandfather was brutally beaten by soldiers, and after this he took his family and fled from Uganda, bringing nothing with them but the clothes on their back and a British passport (Uganda was a British colony and so this provided them entry into the UK). They travelled for months by boat to the UK, worked long hours packing goods into boxes in factories, and eventually saved enough money to acquire their own off-licence shop where they spent several decades working 14-hour days, seven days a week, 365 days a year (not even Diwali day off), just to build the platform upon which my dad, and by extension me, are now able to live better lives.

On top of all the economic hardship they faced, for both of my parents and their families, arriving in the UK in the 1970s and 1980s was brutal: racism was overt, physically violent, and omnipresent. There are stories from my parents’ childhoods which are nothing short of harrowing. It was a very different UK to the one I grew up in; of that there can be no doubt, and from that I derive much hope for the future. Of course there is still progress left to make, work left to do, and we can see from the news that racism and prejudice are definitely not just things of the past – but remembering how far we have come is important too.

My experiences

Racism affects South Asian communities in different ways. We are not a homogenous group (especially during cricket season!) and we have rivalries, tensions, injustices, and conflicts like every other continent.

I have been fortunate to have spent most of my life so far surrounded by well-intentioned, caring, and inclusive individuals, and for this I am very grateful. However, there are still challenges: I am still either the only, or one of the only, ethnic minorities in the vast majority of rooms I enter; this is an experience which people from minority backgrounds in the UK – whether South Asian or not – can generally all relate to. Every action you take feels burdened by the weight of the invisible millions you represent in that room. Being a minority can often mean being labelled as a ‘female’ lawyer or being a ‘brown’ lawyer – instead of just a lawyer. This is a privilege but it is also a heavy weight, whereby every mistake feels amplified and every risk feels costlier, because you harbour a constant feeling that everything you do is bigger than just you.

And it works both ways: not only do ethnic minorities often feel responsible for representing their entire communities, but they also know that other people in their communities will be judged as if they represent them too. When there is a bad headline in the news or a scandal in your industry, and if someone of your ethnic background is culpable, there is a sense of dread, nervousness, and fear about how this will inevitably affect how you are perceived and what bias – whether conscious or unconscious – you will now face as a consequence of what a complete stranger did.

Achieving unity in diversity

Decentring ourselves and our experiences as the ‘norm’ is really important. Dedicated periods of celebration like South Asian Heritage Month are great opportunities to spotlight communities; however, we must be wary not to let this ‘other’ South Asian communities. Recognising that a community forms a minority proportion of a population is not the same as ‘othering’ them. Having a dedicated month can result in people unconsciously mentally grouping people into a homogenous ‘South Asian’ category, which creates a sense of ‘othering’ and false conflation of South Asian identities. This can easily translate into unintentional, but still damaging and minimising, experiences; from a personal standpoint, there are still multiple occasions occurring regularly throughout my life where people will mistake me for another South Asian individual (whom I do not look like in the slightest) and call me by the wrong name.

It all comes back to decentring ourselves and recognising that every single belief and habit you have is not ‘normal’, it just happens to be how you were taught. Everyone is an outsider somewhere. Being non-judgmental and open is far harder than it sounds – it involves actively catching yourself when you think someone else’s approach to the big and small things in life is ‘weird’.

For me, having grown up in a relatively traditional Gujarati household whilst also being integrated into UK society, I often encounter differences between the two cultures. I thought it may be helpful to provide a few personal anecdotal examples to illustrate this point – I set out below three things that are ‘normal’ for me as a Gujarati Indian, which are not generally considered ‘normal’ in the UK:

1. Living intergenerationally

Growing up, I lived with 11 other family members, in a joint family household structure. During my teens my parents, my brother, and I moved out into a separate home and after university I have returned to live at home with my parents – not only is this an economically beneficial decision for me but this is our ‘norm’ – moving out would have been the outlier to us.

2. Eating with your hands instead of with cutlery

Indian food is made to be enjoyed with your hands. I use cutlery with most cuisines, but not when I am eating Indian food. For me, the sensation and texture afforded by eating with your hands enhances the whole experience – and then you just wash your hands afterwards like you would in any event. When I was at university someone tried to tell me that eating with my hands was unclean and unrefined – needless to say, I did not heed this advice. For Indian food at least, I would recommend everyone tries it with their hands.

3. Never addressing people older or more senior than you by their first name

In Gujarat, and in India more widely, it is ‘normal’ to use suffixes and prefixes when addressing those older than you, as a sign of respect and humility. This is so fundamental to our culture that it even applies laterally within the same generation of people: for example, younger siblings address older siblings with a suffix after their name: ‘bhai’ for brothers and ‘ben’ for sisters. Often, these suffixes are integrated into our legal names. For me, when entering the workplace, I had to make a conscious adjustment to my learned behaviour and address people with significantly more age and seniority than me by their first names.

Ultimately, there are so many ways to live life and they all carry pros and cons. We can all learn from each other and the definition of ‘normal’ changes depending where you are. To me, recognising that our differences are the one thing we all have in common is the true meaning of unity in diversity.