He came here with £3, worked all hours — and made us so proud
MY FATHER-IN-LAW AVTAR
BRITAIN is full of unsung heroes and heroines who deserve recognition. Here, in our weekly obituary column, the moving and inspirational stories of ordinary people who have lived extraordinary lives, and who died recently, are told by their loved ones . . .
Three years ago, I got married and moved from London to Wolverhampton. For the first five months, I didn’t work and was finding it hard to adjust, away from my family and friends.
My days were spent with my fatherinlaw, Avtar Singh Dhada. he was in the twilight of his life. his wife of more than 60 years had died six months before, and I suppose we were both a little lonely. I had no idea then what a wonderful friendship would develop and how much I would learn from this amazing man.
My fatherinlaw was born in Punjab in India, the eldest child of seven in a family of farmers. his birth wasn’t officially recorded, but he knew the date because a village elder told him he was born on the day a famous Sikh freedom fighter, Bhagat Singh, was executed.
In 1963, Avtar took what must have been an extraordinary step, leaving behind his wife and three small children to come to Britain with just £3 in his pocket to try to forge a better life for them all.
I would like to say Britain welcomed him with open arms, but this would not be entirely true. he encountered much racism at first and struggled to get work.
People were suspicious of a man with a beard and turban. Many had never met a Sikh before. Once, he was told to go away, shave and remove his turban if he wanted a job. he refused.
Later, when his wife and children had joined him and he was in a position to buy his first house, the seller told him he wouldn’t sell to a ‘coloured person’. Avtar pursued a legal challenge and, although he couldn’t afford to take the case to court, it was important to him that he had made a stand. he believed passionately that attitudes would change — and, in the meantime, he worked every hour there was.
he took jobs others didn’t want — sweeping the roads, painting and decorating, anything.
he told me he found everything difficult initially, especially the weather, but that his army days in India, where he did the equivalent of National Service, had prepared him for tough times.
he eventually managed to get a job with British Steel, where he was employed for 18 years, working his way up to a wellpaid job as a foreman. In the early years, he saved and saved, walking four miles to and from work to save money. he only took the bus if it was snowing.
he did as much overtime as they could give him, up to five hours a day. All three properties he owned in his life were paid for and mortgagefree.
he supported the extended family, too, paying for the weddings of his sisters. And he never let his wife work. his belief that a man should support his family may sound oldfashioned now, but he had a great sense of responsibility.
Avtar was a kind man with a sharp mind and strong moral values. he could be a little set in his ways, but was very modern in his thinking, with a keen interest in world news. he described himself as a British Indian and I believe he had the perfect balance of east and West.
he proudly wore his turban, staying true to his Sikh faith, yet he also enjoyed a pint in the pub with his white neighbours.
he saw what was good about Britain — the opportunities for education, the lack of corruption. his five children went on to have successful careers in business, medicine and management.
Mostly, he just loved people. he was never happier than when he had someone on the sofa beside him to chat to. Our lives revolved around Avtar. Before she died, my motherinlaw had asked my husband, Kulwant, to look after his father, and we were conscious of fulfilling that promise. even on honeymoon, we were in contact with him every day.
We settled into married life with him very much involved in our lives. We cooked for him, ate with him most evenings and took him to visit relatives.
We were heartbroken to lose him, but we were so lucky to have him as the head of our family.
Avtar Singh Dhada, born March 22, 1931, died March 23, 2018, aged 87.