To Whom this may concern,
                                           My father, namely Cawas Jehangirji Bardoliwalla God bless his soul, was an erudite young man aspiring to a scholarly career after his arrival in the London, 1959. His departure from Bombay by ship was significant enough to have been reported in one of India's popular Hindi-language newspapers in fact I still have the original cutting which he kept. He was granted a full scholarship from Bombay University to further his post-graduate studies in Mechanical Engineering at Imperial College, London. My father was my everything, he was my hero, I loved him immensely. I was always by his side "daddy's boy" was I and yet my father became increasingly exasperated that he was not being given/shown the respect especially by his 'all white' peers at work. When he began working at Rolls Royce as a Senior Engineering draughtsman, peer pressure born out of jealousy/envy according to my mother started to take hold and unfortunately it sooner or later got the better of him. My father was in essence a positive thinker and forward thinking man determined to do his utmost and strive to achieve his rightful place as an assiduous hard-worker in his chosen field as an Automotive Architectural Engineer. Sadly my father suffered terribly at the hands of his majority 'white' peers and became increasingly depressed and angry as recounted by my mother. He felt and justifiably so that he was not treated fairly, namely his qualifications and overall level of seniority in his chosen career field was no longer a level playing field, sadly to his dismay. He was not given due recognition/commendation by his superiors and especially by his work colleagues many of whom were younger and less experienced and yet they were receiving at minimum an equivalent if not a greater rate of pay. My father was an honest and a deeply devout Zoroastrian (Parsi). The discrimination he faced was undoubtedly profound and sadly with time came to be an increasingly overwhelming disappointment to him personally, the stress was evident in his overall disposition. It was really sad to see such transformation take hold of a good God-fearing man. In hindsight it was to be the beginning of a tragic and yet imminent demise for my father. My mother recalls him suffering two previous lesser, secondary type heart attacks prior to his death on 6th March 1978. From my subjective recollection at the time, both my mother and I were the only ones to witness the course of events both prior to and following my fathers sudden death from myocardial infarction. I don't remember seeing my two brothers and sister as though they were absent at the time during my father death. I can vividly recall my mother being gravely perturbed, she seemed totally helpless crying out as she moved hurriedly between the living room and the kitchen as our next door neighbour Mr Cash on the request of my mother attempted to resuscitate my father. Mr Cash was in hindsight incognizant of actually what to do given that he was as it were thrown in the deep end of a critical situation and yet he was doggedly determined to do something to help my dying father. My 44 year old father who lay motionless, helplessly dying as Mr Cash (an over weight middle aged man) sat on my fathers stomach as he lay horizontally on the front living room floor and proceeded to thumped heavily using both clenched fists on my unconscious fathers chest. I recall Mr Cash carrying out this thumping action on my father a number of times as I watched on in shock horror whilst my mum and I impatiently waited for the ambulance to arrive which seem to take for ever! It took approximately 45 minutes for the ambulance to eventually arrive at which time I was so completely overcome with fear and utterly frightened to the core, crying helplessly, feeling totally powerless and hopeless. I recall running upstairs into my parents bedroom in total utter shock looking out of the window as I felt my whole world come to an end, the feeling was horrific and became more and more intense as I kept shouting out "dad", "dad". Reliving this experience is extremely traumatic to say the least even after all these years have passed, it's as if it is happening to me right now psychologically as I recount it.

Sorry but I have to stop!

To be continued!

His beloved Son Neville Cawas Bardoliwalla OBE