Born in Britain, Rooted in Jhelum: The Untold Story of Second Generation British Pakistanis

They were born in Bradford, raised in Birmingham, and schooled in the streets of Luton — but their hearts were always pulled toward a city on the banks of a river in Punjab. They are the second generation Jhelumis of the United Kingdom, and theirs is a story that no passport can fully capture.

The Jhelum Connection

Most Pakistani Punjabis living in the UK trace their roots to the Pothohar region — Jhelum, Gujar Khan, Attock — of northern Punjab. Their parents and grandparents came to Britain in the 1950s and 60s, answering the call of post-war labour shortages, carrying little more than a suitcase and a dream.

They built their lives in the terraced streets of northern England. They opened shops, drove taxis, worked factory floors. And they raised children — children who grew up British in school and Pakistani at home.

Growing Up Between Two Worlds

Ask any second generation Jhelumi in the UK what their childhood felt like, and they will tell you the same thing: it was a constant negotiation. At school, they were Pakistani. At home, they were told to be more British. Neither world fully claimed them. Neither world fully let them go.

They learned two languages, two sets of manners, two ways of being. English with their friends. Punjabi or Urdu with their grandparents. Fish and chips on Friday. Karahi on Sunday. EastEnders in the evening. Pakistani dramas late at night.

The term that captured this experience — half joking, half painfully true — was BBCD: British Born Confused Desi.

The Questions They Were Always Asked

Every second generation Jhelumi knows these questions by heart. From British classmates: “But where are you really from?” From relatives in Pakistan: “Why don’t you speak proper Urdu?” From both sides: an unspoken pressure to choose — to be one thing or the other. British or Pakistani. Modern or traditional. Here or there.

The truth, of course, is that they were always both. And neither.

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What Jhelum Means to Them

For many second generation Jhelumis, Pakistan — and Jhelum specifically — exists as a place of memory more than lived experience. They know it through their parents’ stories, through summer visits, through the smell of their grandmother’s cooking, through photographs of the river.

Visits to Pakistan help second generation British Pakistanis redefine their identity in relation to Pakistan, the UK, and Islam, contributing to the formation of a new transnational identity. When they visit Jhelum, they are treated as guests — wealthy relatives from abroad, expected to bring gifts and dollars. They are not quite local. But in the UK, they are not quite British either.

They exist in the space between — and over time, many have come to see that space not as a burden, but as a gift.

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Finding Their Place

Something began to shift in the 2010s. Second generation British Pakistanis started seeing people who looked like them — and sounded like them — in positions of power and visibility. Sadiq Khan became Mayor of London. Riz Ahmed won an Oscar. Rishi Sunak became Prime Minister.

These were not just political milestones. They were signals that belonging was possible. That you could be fully British and fully Pakistani at the same time. For second generation Jhelumis, this recognition confirmed what they had always quietly believed: that their dual identity was not a contradiction. It was a strength.

The Third Generation Question

Today, the children of second generation Jhelumis are growing up in a Britain that is more diverse, more confident, and more comfortable with complexity than ever before. The Pakistani diaspora in the UK demonstrates strong resilience, characterised by growing political engagement and the active maintenance of transnational socio-cultural and religious ties.

But new questions are emerging. How much Urdu will the third generation speak? Will they visit Jhelum? Will they still feel connected to a city most of them have never lived in? These are not questions with easy answers. But the fact that second generation Jhelumis are asking them — and passing on stories, language, and pride to their children — suggests that the connection to Jhelum will not disappear. It will simply change shape.

A City Carried in the Heart

Jhelum is more than a place on a map. For the Pakistani community in the UK, it is a living memory — carried in language, in food, in the way families gather, in the stories told across kitchen tables from Birmingham to Bradford.

The second generation Jhelumis did not choose the world they were born into. But many of them have made something remarkable out of it — building lives that honour both the city of their ancestors and the country they call home. Between two worlds is not a bad place to be. Ask any Jhelumi in the UK, and they will tell you: it is simply who they are.

Are you a second generation Jhelumi in the UK? We would love to hear your story. Contact us at JhelumLive.com

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