Remembering Lord Swraj Paul: A tribute to a champion of Indo-British ties, philanthropy, and quiet resilience

 I write these words with a heavy heart, mourning the loss of a man who was at once a titan and a guiding light for countless cosmopolitan Indians. Lord Swraj Paul was not just an industrialist, philanthropist, and parliamentarian — he was a beacon. A beacon between India and the United Kingdom, between tradition and modernity, between personal tragedy and public service. 

 

My association with Lord Swraj Paul goes back more than 25 years. I first met him in London when the late Hashim Abdul Halim introduced me to him at the House of Lords, and we immediately connected. Since then, meeting him became an essential part of every London visit — whether it was a weekend at his farm, meals at his favourite Italian restaurant near Baker Street, evenings over samosas at his residence, or tea at the House of Lords.

 

In his last three visits to Kolkata, he was kind enough to visit my home, and I will always treasure those moments. I also spent time with him post-Covid when he was in Kensington Hospital, and the last time we met was at his house in London, where he was, as always, extremely affectionate towards me.

 

Fifteen years ago, he graciously wrote the blurb for my book on tigers, and to my surprise, last year, his caretaker Salma called to say he had penned a note on my latest book Norway Diary. Such gestures reflected his warmth and generosity of spirit.

 

His iconic July 5th tea party at the London Zoo will always be missed from the city’s social calendar, just as his presence will be missed in the many institutions to which he devoted his life. Lord Paul was a man of immense willpower — even in his later years, one could see him in Parliament in his wheelchair, determined as ever.

 

He leaves behind an extraordinary legacy of resilience, generosity, and commitment.

 

When news broke of Lord Paul’s passing on 21 August 2025, aged 94, condolences poured in from around the world. Prime Minister Narendra Modi wrote on X: “Deeply saddened by the passing of Shri Swraj Paul Ji. His contributions to industry, philanthropy and public service in the UK, and his unwavering support for closer ties with India will always be remembered…”

Mamata Banerjee, Chief Minister of West Bengal, also took to X to pay tribute to Lord Paul: “He was… an icon of the global Indian diaspora with deep Kolkata connections. I knew him well and received his affection. We had interacted on joint efforts to develop Bengal…”

 

These words fittingly capture a man who, for decades, dedicated his life to strengthening the ties of affection, trust, and enterprise between two nations.

 

An extraordinary journey

Swraj Paul was born in Jalandhar in 1931. He was named “Swraj” because Mahatma Gandhi had visited his home around the time of his birth. His childhood was shaped by struggle — his father passed away when he was just 13, leaving him to be raised by his elder brothers. From Doaba College in Punjab to the hallowed halls of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, he carried with him a restless determination.

 

After studying at MIT, he returned to India, working briefly in the family’s Apeejay Group, before fate dealt its most brutal blow. In 1966, seeking treatment in London for his daughter, Ambika, diagnosed with leukaemia, he moved with his young family to the UK. Ambika’s passing at the tender age of four would change Lord Paul’s life forever. Out of that grief, the Ambika Paul Foundation was born, carrying forward her joy and innocence into causes that would nurture generations of children. “The London Zoo is where she [Ambika] was always the happiest,” Paul would often recall. It is no coincidence that the Ambika Paul Children’s Zoo there stands as one of Lord Paul’s most cherished contributions.

 

Building an empire with steel and resolve

What followed was a story worthy of legend. Lord Paul began humbly in the UK, with a single steel unit, and went on to found the Caparo Group in 1968. From that nucleus, he built one of the UK’s largest steel conversion and distribution businesses. He often joked about being a “man of steel” not just because of the business, but because life demanded it of him.

For Lord Paul, Caparo was never just a business. It was his platform to champion manufacturing in Britain at a time when the economy had started tilting heavily towards services. He showed that Indian grit could thrive in a British landscape, breaking through what he once described as the “old boys’ network”.

 

A life tempered by grief, but lifted by love

Yet behind the empire-builder was a man acquainted with deep sorrow. The loss of Ambika was only the first wound. In 1990, Lord Paul’s brother, Surrendra Paul, was assassinated by insurgents in Assam. In 2015, his dynamic son, Angad, who had taken over as CEO of Caparo, died tragically. And in 2022, his beloved wife, Aruna — whom he had married within a week of meeting her in Kolkata, before sharing six harmonious decades together — passed away.

 

I remember him saying, with a mixture of pride and wistfulness, that he inaugurated the Lady Aruna Swraj Paul Hall at the Indian Gymkhana Club as a tribute to “my wonderful wife whom I miss very much; we never had an argument during our 65 years of marriage”. 

 

Grief never left Lord Paul, but he transformed it into philanthropy. Each of his loved ones lived on in the institutions he built and the causes he supported.

 

The philanthropist and educationist

Lord Paul’s charitable vision was immense. From the Ambika Paul School of Technology in Jalandhar to scholarships at MIT, from the Ambika P3 arts space at the University of Westminster to his long chancellorship at the University of Wolverhampton, he poured millions into education. He believed learning was the surest way to lift lives.

 

When asked where he felt most at home, Lord Paul used to say that he was 100 per cent Indian when in India and 100 per cent British when in the UK! That dual belonging was not just a sentiment — he lived it through his philanthropy. He donated generously to institutions on both sides of the world and, in doing so, he brought India and the UK closer together.

 

Cultivating relationships across borders

It was in the realm of diplomacy, both personal and political, that Lord Paul’s influence was perhaps most remarkable. Margaret Thatcher admired him and often invited him for discussions. He enjoyed cordial relationships with leaders as diverse as Jawaharlal Nehru, Indira Gandhi, Atal Bihari Vajpayee, Manmohan Singh, Sonia Gandhi, and Narendra Modi.

 

In Britain, he was appointed Deputy Speaker of the House of Lords, sat on prestigious committees, and even played a pivotal role in London’s successful bid for the 2012 Olympic Games. Yet his loyalties were never transactional. He was unwavering in his support for Indira Gandhi when she was at her most unpopular. That loyalty earned him the reputation of a true “man of steel” — someone who stood by friends even when the winds turned against them.

 

For me, and for many in London and Delhi, Lord Paul’s home at Portland Place and his office at Baker Street were more than addresses; they were crossroads where East met West. He was as comfortable serving tea in his office to Indian journalists as he was hosting prime ministers in his drawing room. His vegetarianism was another gentle reminder of his rootedness.

 

The man behind the titles

What endeared Lord Paul most, however, was his humour. At a function in Leicester in 2019, when asked why he was still working at his age (he was almost 90 then), he quipped: “At my age, what else can I do?” That was quintessential Lord Swraj Paul — self-deprecating, sharp, and disarmingly human.

 

Despite being on the Sunday Times Rich List and living in one of London’s most enviable addresses, he took public transport “like everybody else”. For a man who hobnobbed with heads of states, that humility was no act — it was his essence.

 

As I think of him now, I am reminded of his memoir, Beyond Boundaries. That title perhaps best sums up his life. He transcended the boundaries of nation, class, grief, and prejudice. He was, in the truest sense, global — long before “global Indian” became a buzzword.

 

Lord Swraj Paul leaves behind not only his family and the empire he built, but also an indelible impression on both India and the UK. He showed us that steel can be forged into bridges, that grief can give birth to hope, and that humour can outlast sorrow.

 

As for me, I will miss his warmth, his generosity, and his quiet laughter. He was not only a statesman between nations, but also a true friend. And while London and Delhi will both claim him as their own, perhaps his legacy is best encapsulated in his own words — that he was always wholly Indian and wholly British. In that, he showed us what it truly means to belong everywhere.

This article was published in The Daily Guardian