I arrived in Gravesend, Kent from India in December 1963, when I was 16. My father and two older brothers were already here. It was freezing and foggy and I remember thinking, “Why did we come here?” But I liked some things – in India we had to milk our cows when we wanted milk. Here, it arrived on the doorstep.
I spent five years working in factories, and some had signs outside, “No blacks, no Irish”. In one factory, the woman said, “Sorry, we don’t employ you people.” My reaction was, “Why don’t you put a bloody notice outside?” By 1968, almost every day we would see headlines about “Paki-bashing”. It was a big joke to them.
While I was doing my A-levels, some students decided to act. We set up the Indian Youth Federation of Gravesend Kent in September 1969, to defend the people, families and homes that were attacked. I was elected president.
The BNP came on the scene in the early 90s. It set up its headquarters in Welling and racist attacks started. Stephen Lawrence’s death after being stabbed by a white gang in an unprovoked attack in south-east London in 1993 was the last straw. We decided to march, and agreed a route with the police: we’d start at Winn’s Common, past the BNP headquarters – which would be protected by police – and on to a rally in another park.
It was a sunny day and more than 45,000 people came. It took about 15 minutes to reach the road where we had to turn right towards the BNP headquarters, but it was blocked by riot police. Behind them were mounted police, then farther down at the BNP headquarters were more police, and riot vans. We didn’t understand why they changed their minds on the agreed route.
Riot police tried to grab my arms. People behind me started throwing smoke bombs at the police horses, and almost immediately they charged. They smashed into people with their horses and hit them with long truncheons. It was terrifying. Everyone scattered. Some people grabbed bricks and started throwing them at the police. Our peaceful protest became a riot.
I tried to get everyone to agree to the police’s demands; it was too dangerous not to. Some continued towards the park, others stayed to fight with the police. In the end, we cancelled the rally and asked people to leave as quickly as possible.
The next morning, I saw the picture on the front page of the Independent on Sunday. I hadn’t realised there was so much smoke; I was focused on the charging horses. Then I looked down and thought, “Oh my God, that’s me!” When I look at the photograph now, I feel lucky I got away, but it reminds me that we were denied our democratic right to peaceful protest. I still feel angry. More than 40 protesters and 21 police officers were injured. If they had stuck to the plan, no one would have got hurt. We were responding to racist violence, and it ended in more violence.