My little adventure

My dad used to tell the story…

“Can you believe that at 2 years old you walked out of our house all the way down Townsend Road Southall? Someone left the door open. Your mum was at work and your brother and sister were at school. Thank goodness there were no cars on our road in those days (1962). In fact no one owned a car on the entire street. But my little puth, you explored all the way to Broadway and waited on the edge of the busy Uxbridge Road! Mr Dhami was coming back with the newspaper and saw you. Do you remember my dearest friend Mr Dhami? He was from our village in Dhamian Kalan. Our families were so close. And he adored you. He used to say you looked like a little doll. He scooped you up into his arms and asked ‘What are you doing here all alone? Where is your daddy?’ He brought you home. I didn’t even know you had gone! I was so wrapped up in the case of the family I was helping. I thought you were still fast asleep in the front room.”

In those days our house was a hub for the local Indian community. Those who could not speak English or read and write, or just needed help from dad. He was one of the go-to people. He had studied law and was an articulate man. Most importantly he had a sense of community and wanted to support his fellow country men and women. This meant our house was always an open house. I remember this vividly throughout my childhood. The police often would ask for help with Indians who had come into Heathrow airport and didn’t have anywhere to go. Mum and dad would welcome them into our home and try to help them. We had very little ourselves but like many immigrant communities we all helped each other out.

“I took you from Mr Dhami and held you close and wrapped you in the pink blanket your mum had knitted. My little adventurer was tired and fell fast asleep. I didn’t let you out of my sight and held onto you very tightly until your mum got home. You didn’t seem upset or anything! We were sitting around the table in the kitchen drinking tea and all I could think was… ‘What am I going to tell your mum?’ After that we got a childminder! Haha!”