Growing up, the youngest in our Indian family remained oppressive, giving everyone a survival instinct. 

My uneducated parents abused my sister and me often. Brothers ran the family. Older brothers from an early age were manipulative and controlling. Parents relied on them for everything. My brothers made significant decisions.

In 1988, my hated father hung himself. The eldest took on the role of Dictator, and my other brother relished becoming Judge and Executioner. My role, the subjugated, deserving punishment. My sister, taking sides with whoever favoured her.

Whilst growing up at home, I hid my sexuality. How until my early 30s is a mystery? One day, the Dictator spied on me and discovered my secret. I didn’t deny it and received a slack punch to my face and angry rant.

Several years passed with the Dictator, ignoring my sexuality, at least that is what I thought. I made a few friends, one of whom stayed my friend and saviour until his death 25 years later. Dr Michael Ford, a devout Roman Catholic. Soon, I realised, I wanted to become a Catholic.

Born a Sikh. On 23rd December 1994, the Birmingham Oratory confirmed me as a Roman Catholic. Gloves off, the family were fuming.