'Caring can be quiet and isolating - you carry a lot in silence'

For Carers Week, carer Dr Taranjit S Badh reflects on how caring for his parents has tested him, deepened his love and been strengthened by his Sikh faith.

I’ve been a carer for nearly five years now. It’s something I’ve done quietly, generally without fuss, because it’s what needed to be done. I didn’t really have a choice. Not because it was forced on me, more because something inside me knew I had to. A sense of duty, shaped by faith and shaped by life. It felt like an obligation I couldn’t walk away from.

I’m an only child. That’s meant there’s been no one else to step in, no one else to share the load. I looked after both of my parents and, in March this year, my father sadly passed away. Now I care for my mum on my own. So alongside the daily responsibilities, I’m also carrying grief. Some days it just sits in the background. Other days, it’s heavy. There’s no space to process it properly when you’re always needed.

Caring can be quiet and isolating. You carry a lot in silence. There’s the tiredness that builds up and the decisions that feel heavier when they’re yours alone. One of the biggest challenges has been my mum’s reluctance to accept any outside help. That’s something many in the South Asian community will understand. There’s pride, a sense of privacy, and a fear of people not understanding our ways.

I try to meet these moments with patience. As a Sikh, I hold onto the principle of seva — selfless service. Our faith teaches us to look after our elders with love, with dignity, with strength. I remind myself that I’m not just caring, I’m honouring those values.

Caring has tested me. It’s stretched my energy, challenged my emotions, and brought me to quiet places I didn’t expect. At the same time, it’s deepened my understanding of love and resilience. I know there are many carers out there who do all this in silence. If sharing my story helps even one of them feel seen, then this has been worth it.

I’ve felt fairly supported in my role, but I do think carers are often misunderstood, especially by those who haven’t experienced it themselves. There’s also a cultural side to it — in many families I grew up around, care often falls to female relatives, like daughters. I don’t have any close female relatives, and as an only child, I always knew it would be me caring for my mum. So yes, I think there’s an inequality in both how carers are seen and who’s expected to step into that role.