Starting With Why.

Eleven years ago, my world shifted forever.

The day before I was called to the Bar, a moment I had worked so long and hard for, my late father passed away. It was the most devastating moment of my life.

I still remember the silence that followed. I was on the threshold of a career I had dreamed about, but all I could feel was loss. It was profound and immeasurable.

People say time heals, but they often forget that grief doesn’t follow a neat timeline. It’s not about “getting over it.” It’s an unfolding and slow reckoning. For me, it’s taken a decade to begin finding the language for what I lost, and for what I want to carry forward. Approaching twelve years on, I begin this blog to return to the values that shaped me.

My father was a quiet force of compassion. Long before adoption was culturally accepted in our community, he welcomed a woman into our family as his sister, and I was raised with a deep respect for her as my aunt. It was a reminder that family is something we build through care, not just bloodlines.

He lived that belief with the compassion he held in his role as Lambardar of our ancestral village in Kumbi, Punjab. He was the eldest in his family, born in a small village in Punjab, where he held the title of Lambardar. This was a role passed down through at least three generations (and likely more if oral history had been written down). The Lambardar was more than a landholder or tax collector under British rule. He was a village elder. A trusted mediator. The one people turned to when conflict arose and the courts were too far, or too impersonal.

I, on the other hand, was born in London and worlds away from those titles, that land, and those responsibilities but somehow, even in the grey blur of London’s early mornings and night shifts, my father carried that legacy forward.

He never stopped being that bridge. Within our family and wider community, he was the quiet fixer of family feuds, the calm in the storm of community tensions. He was an expat in England who helped mediate countless family conflicts within the community. 

At his core, he believed that conflict should never stand in the way of compassion - that values could be firm but delivered with grace. I still remember the handwritten notes he would slip under my door after an argument. His way of reconnecting, when we didn’t agree.

He showed me that resolution isn’t about winning - it’s about finding a way forward, together.

As a British expat, family mediator and barrister based in Dubai, I’ve spent over a decade supporting individuals and families through some of their most painful transitions. Working in the Middle East, I see how family disputes can be layered, painful, and often caught between legal systems and cultural expectations.

As I work with expat families, like my own, I return to my father’s wisdom again and again. I find myself studying family systems, not just case law. I lean into understanding the culture, tradition, religion and practices that underpin conflict. Not away from it.

With Family Reframed, I want to share what I’ve learned and create a space to help others navigate their own paths – with clarity, compassion, and courage.

This blog is my tribute to the values I was raised by, and the commitment I have to supporting families.

It’s a space for reflection, practical tools, and real conversations about how we hold space for each other – even in conflict – and use that space to find a respectful resolution to disputes.

As I circle back to being my father’s daughter… 

…I hope to do better to honour those values.

So why am I starting this blog now?

Because for the first ten years of practice, family law was my career. 

Now, based in the Middle East, supporting families is my personal commitment.