"He was really losing patience as his problems worsened. He’d be angry, frustrated, aggressive. He would throw things.”

We were both living in Nairobi when I met David (his real name is Dayalal). But we were from different backgrounds. He was working and I was still going to school. We met in the community because we used to do shows, group dancing, things like that. We used to go and watch Bollywood films together at the cinema. One of our favourites was the 1960’s epic Moghal-E-Azam and, funnily enough, Gone With The Wind. But David’s mother wanted him to get married, an arranged marriage, and showed him all sorts of girls. He was stubborn. “No,” he said, “I’ve seen the one I want. That was me. But she said he couldn’t because my dad was struggling with four daughters - I was no. 3 - and he was only doing piece work making suits.
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But we did end up getting married. It was very romantic. His sister and I got married on the same day - side by side - except there was a difference. She had all sorts of extras and they gave us the minimum according to my Dad’s status. So I could see it was going to be hard to settle into the family.
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But then everything changed. The government said the population had 24 hours to become Kenyan citizens or leave the country. We were British citizens as a result of our Indian heritage and so we decided to come to the UK. David went first in the February and I followed in September. My god, it was so different. Not just the weather. My brother-in-law had lent me £150 to help settle in and within three days of landing I started working in a factory assembling radios in Willesden Green. We worked really really hard.
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David eventually found a job in insurance with an old boss and he had a wonderful career. He was well-liked. Charming, he was good at reading small print, very thorough. He did really well right up until he was 65. That’s when he fell in the bathroom in my daughter’s flat after my 60th birthday party in London and from then on his mobility went. He could still use a zimmer frame but that was the start of his gradual decline.
He was really losing patience as his problems worsened.He’d be angry, frustrated, aggressive. He would throw things. He didn’t hurt me physically. I just walked away and as he became more disabled he couldn’t throw things anymore. Although he once tried to throw his zimmer frame - and learned his lesson. People said “How do you cope.” I said: “I don’t know. I just carry on.”
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Then one day, social services sent a sensory team to us and they picked up on his behaviour. One of the ladies said: “You don’t have to put up with that.” I didn’t know. What else could I do? That’s when they put me in touch with carers support. It was fantastic. I received three hours a week carer respite. I am really grateful for the services I was given. And then my daughter Avni decided to give up work and for the last seven years she helped too.
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She could get through to him. He would become calm and listen to her. He told her he wanted to watch Bollywood. So she got him a 50” screen TV and all the channels he needed to find his favourite films like Moghal-E-Azam. He would sit there and watch for hours and hours at the fullest volume. Luckily, our house is detached so the noise didn’t bother the neighbours. He was so happy. I think it actually made him forget what he was going through and it made our remaining time together better.
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Every night he used to say to Avni: “Goodnight my beloved sweetie. I love you both. But I love your mother more.” So I knew he cared.