These aren’t polished.
They’re not pretty.
They’re survival notes from eight years inside a Leicester-based South Asian radio station — Sabras Radio — where the abuse was silent, the workload relentless, and the erasure deliberate.
Fragments of a mind held together by music, memory, and sheer will.
Some are raw. Some are ridiculous. All are real.
This is where erasure meets evidence —
and sometimes, madness becomes meaning.
🧾Eight Years. Two Emails. That’s Sabras.
I joined Sabras Radio in 2015.
Apparently, that was my first mistake.
Over the next eight years, I wore every hat they wouldn’t pay for — presenter, producer, scheduler, event organiser, PRS form machine, playout programmer, emotional sponge.
I kept the station running behind the scenes.
All for £7.20 an hour.
No contract. No title. No credit. Just pressure.
In 2025, I submitted a Subject Access Request.
Sabras replied with what they claimed was everything they had on file.
The archive?
Two emails.
One from me. One from Don Kotak.
They even got the dates wrong.
Those emails were sent in January 2023, just after I raised safeguarding concerns.
Sabras listed them as July 2023 — either due to incompetence, metadata manipulation, or magical realism.
No resignation letter.
No complaint record.
No safeguarding notes.
No performance history.
No documentation of the abuse I raised.
No trace of the psych ward that followed.
Eight years — deleted.
Not lost.
Not misfiled.
Deleted.
And not just mine.
When Raj Baddhan left Sabras, he manually deleted his own inbox — the one containing data on both me and Rishi Modi — with help from Dave Perry.
That inbox held years of internal emails, safeguarding concerns, and behind-the-scenes communications the station would now rather not explain.
Raj was in a relationship with Rishi — a fact never acknowledged publicly.
Rishi worked under him.
Both of us raised concerns.
Both of us were erased.
Rishi died in 2020, after publicly linking his declining mental health to workplace abuse.
I nearly died in 2023.
Instead, I landed in a psych ward.
And unlike my emails, I survived.
Sabras didn’t investigate either case.
It didn’t reflect.
It just kept broadcasting.
Because at Sabras:
- Relationships are off the record.
- Mental health is inconvenient metadata.
- And survival? Unarchived.
In July 2025, I filed a formal safeguarding complaint against Raj Baddhan and Sabras Radio.
It names names, cites laws, and documents the culture of silence that led to Rishi’s death — and nearly cost me my own.
That document exists.
Unlike our inboxes.
But don’t worry — the studio’s still standing.
They’re still airing old Bollywood hits between funeral tributes and safeguarding hashtags.
The same people who deleted our inboxes will now retweet mental health awareness posts and light candles in Rishi’s memory — as long as no one asks where the emails went.
One of us died. One of us almost did.
But hey — the playlist slaps.
📎 Attached Documents:
📧 I Raised It — They Ignored It
So I raised it — professionally.
I questioned the pattern: five Bollywood posts, zero mention of Republic Day.
I flagged what felt like cultural erasure — not for the first time.
These are the emails I sent.
The meeting came after.
If you care about truth, read them.
If you care about pattern, compare them.
🔗 One combined PDF — unedited.
Click to download. Draw your own conclusions.
🔒 The lock was changed.
Not a rumour. Not gossip.
Fact.
After eight years of service — unpaid work, late nights, live events, content creation, voicing promos —
they changed the lock behind my back.
I wasn’t informed by Sabras.
A listener told me.
That same listener — aligned with Kash Kumar — also messaged me lies:
That I’d been sacked.
That Ashik made me leave.
That Don supported it.
None of that was true.
But the lock change was.
“Awww. Confident little bully, aren’t we?
Inflated ego looks good behind a screen.
Also — I’ve already reported them. Thought you should know.”
🖼️ What I saw instead of a formal message from Sabras:
A listener aligned with Kash Kumar messaged me these rumours — without proof, without concern, and without accountability.
That’s how they ended it.
After years of silence, sabotage, and erasure,
I stood up in a meeting. I spoke plainly.
And they closed the door behind me — literally.
This is what happens when you name the problem in a place built on loyalty over truth:
They don’t challenge the abuser.
They change the locks on the one who spoke.
I wasn’t “let go.”
I let go — of the gaslighting, the unpaid hours, the spiritual bypassing, and the boys’ club politics.
🎙️ Why I Left Sabras
Meeting: 30 January 2023
Resigned: 5 February 2023 (forced resignation after silencing and exclusion)
I didn’t leave over one post.
I left after a pattern that had become impossible to ignore.
In that final meeting with Don Kotak, Kash Kumar, and Ashik Jobanputra, I spoke clearly about:
- Public mockery and humiliation
I was laughed at — onstage and off-air — for my accent, voice, and stammer.
This wasn’t gentle teasing. It was performance-level ridicule.
No one stepped in. Not once. - Racist abuse
Kash Kumar told me to “go back to India” and likened me to rioters on Belgrave Road.
It wasn’t subtle. It was loud — and ignored. - Ashik’s sabotage
Ashik Jobanputra spread false rumours that I was having an affair with a promoter.
This wasn’t office gossip. It was character assassination. - Cultural erasure
Major Indian holidays — Republic Day, Makar Sankranti, Vasant Panchami — were entirely ignored on Sabras social media,
while Kash filled the feed with his own promotional content.
On Republic Day alone, a Dimple Kapadia post went up five times in 24 hours. - Deleted contributions
My original content — created with the help of a professional graphic designer I paid myself —
was removed from Sabras platforms without notice or explanation. - No recognition, no growth
I worked extra hours, managed events, ran shows — with no formal promotion or pay equity.
Pam Sidhu, who was junior to me when I started, was promoted ahead of me.
I raised all of this.
No one denied it.
No one acted.
No one offered safeguarding, support, or mediation.
What came next?
🔸 Presenters threatened to resign if I returned
🔸 Management chose silence over resolution
🔸 No safeguarding. No mediation. No dignity.
I was forced to quit five days later.
This isn’t bitterness.
This is documentation.
And unlike Sabras —
I kept the receipts.
March 2015 – Skegness
I went to Skegness with my then-husband.
I came back sunburnt, tired — and apparently suspicious.
The next day, the Sabras Radio station manager examined my neck.
Not my work. Not my wellbeing. Just my skin — scanning for signs of intimacy, like I was property on loan.
No eye contact. Just surveillance.
Turns out HR stood for Hickey Review.
That moment wasn’t about lust.
It was about power — dressed up as curiosity, broadcast as banter.
And that was only Season 1, Episode 1
in a long-running sitcom called:
“Let’s See How Much She’ll Take.”
Spoiler: I took too much.
But I’m not laughing at the reruns anymore.
— The Warrior of the Light (Almost)
🧾 A £60 Payment Labelled “SEX” — My Sabras Radio Story
On 17 June 2019, I received a £60
payment from Raj Baddhan, then
Director of Sabras Radio.
The payment reference?
SEX Yes — that was the word typed
into the official banking transfer reference.
A reimbursement for work expenses. Logged under a category I never consented to.
Here’s the proof:
When I questioned it, Raj said: “That’s your aukaat.” (Translation: “That’s your worth.”) It wasn’t funny. It was degrading. This wasn’t just a “mislabelled payment.”
It was a message — a power play — dressed up as sarcasm. For years, I kept quiet. I didn’t want to lose my job. But silence breeds impunity. Today, I’m publishing this with evidence — because I’ve had enough of staying small to protect big egos.
⚖️ This happened. I have the records. It was not OK.
“God asked me, ‘How stupid could you be?’ Challenge accepted — I worked at Sabras for eight years.”
Trained the Stars, Worked for Peanuts
Proof that loyalty and labour weren’t enough — not until someone else saw the worth.
Between 2015 and 2020, I worked under Raj Baddhan’s management at Sabras Radio. I was paid £7.20 an hour.
2017 — Despite my fragile mental health, I was made to train Pam Sidhu — who was immediately paid more than me. No safeguarding review. No transparency. I managed the station’s social media accounts for free, but wasn’t allowed to promote my own brand.
In 2020, I asked Raj why I hadn’t been offered more.
He said: “I thought you were on benefits.” Fun fact: I wasn’t. My accent was labelled “too freshy” for daytime radio. It wasn’t until Don Kotak took over in 2021 that I was finally given the space no one else dared to offer.
“If this unsettled you, it was meant to.”
The Warrior of the Light (almost) 