A YOUNG British Asian has spoken about the difficulties of living in a multi-generational home during the Covid-19 crisis, claiming the government “failed to provide specific messaging” for those in shared housing.
Aashi Begum*, 18, lives with her parents, grandmother and aunt in Newham, east London. In an interview with Eastern Eye, Begum said she and her family had remained unsure of specific health advice
during lockdown and did not believe the government had released enough information for multi-generational households.
During lockdown, Begum’s family stuck to the guidelines and rarely left the house. However, she admitted they still had concerns about passing the virus to one another as her father had to visit the supermarket weekly to stock up on supplies.
“There isn’t a lot of social isolation you can do in one house,” she said. “We weren’t sure if my dad needed to self-isolate for two weeks after he had gone shopping, and we questioned if my grandma had to stay in her room during lockdown too.
“We all got the message to self-isolate for two weeks, but how are you meant to do that when you live in a household with a lot of people, with grandparents and children? It was difficult to work out.”
Although her aunt had Covid-19 symptoms, Begum said she tested negative for the virus. No other family members have shown coronavirus symptoms.
Begum also claimed to have seen no messaging tailored for the Asian community, raising concern that many elderly people from the community may struggle with government advice due to language barriers. Her claims follow criticism by a number of prominent figures – including the British Medical Association’s council chair Dr Chaand Nagpaul – who had called on the government to release “culturally sensitive” campaigns to reach ethnic groups.
“I’ve seen translated posters on social media (made by volunteers) but I have not seen anything that is government backed,” she said. “However, I don’t see how (the translated posts) would benefit a lot of the elderly generation as they won’t be using social media as much as a young person would. I think a lot more could have been done for those people who may not necessarily be fluent in English.”
Although her grandmother, who is 67, was able to receive information as the family translated it for her, Begum said she would have felt concerned if she was living by herself during the pandemic. “My grandma watches the news and she gets what she can, but she understands very little English,” Begum, who is British-Bangladeshi, explained. “Obviously, we were there to translate a lot of things for her, but what happens to those elderly people who don’t have people who can translate everything on the news for them?”
Following the local lockdown in Leicester last month, researchers recently found that cases of Covid-19 in the city had spiked at a higher rate in Asian communities. In recent weeks, there have also been a
number of local lockdowns implemented in Blackburn and Luton. In light of the rise, Public Health England noted an “increase in the proportion of cases from the Asian/Asian British ethnic group”.
NHS Test and Trace chief Baroness Harding warned of coronavirus spreading in south Asian communities in England last month, stating “(authorities) are seeing a very high prevalence in the south Asian community across the country”.
Begum believes that the spike could be down to Asian families living in multi-generational homes. She also noted the heightened risk of people in the Asian community having illnesses such as diabetes and heart disease. Since the government health guidelines did not cater for Asian elders who may not speak English, Begum said this could put individuals more at risk if they suffered from comorbidities.
“My grandmother is diabetic and I haven’t seen anything specifically that says she will be more at risk and that is the same for a lot of our community,” she said, noting that diabetes tended to be more prevalent in the British Asian community. “(The lack of specific health guidelines) would impact us a lot.”
In response to Eastern Eye, a spokeswoman for Newham Council said their public health team had been working with community groups and stakeholders to improve the accessibility of information relating to the pandemic. They added they were “actively recruiting” residents from all sections of the community to sign up to become Covid-19 health champions, who are offered regular public health updates (via Zoom seminars and WhatsApp) and have access to advice and information that is translated into 13 different languages.
“The Covid-19 crisis is fast-changing, as is the advice, so the council with its community, charity and public health partners, are working hard to keep up to date information available in translated forms,” the
spokeswoman said. “We would urge all residents to sign up to become Covid-19 health champions to continue to improve the reach of messaging around the pandemic to all our residents.”
Jay's grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere.
Ditched the influencer route and began posting hilarious videos online.
Available in Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free
Jayspent 18 months on a list. Thousands of names. Influencers with follower counts that looked like phone numbers. He was going to launch his grandmother's popcorn the right way: send free bags, wait for posts, pray for traction. That's the playbook, right? That's what you do when you're a nobody selling something nobody asked for.
Then one interaction made him snap. The entitlement. The self-importance. The way some food blogger treated his family's recipe like a favour they were doing him. He looked at his spreadsheet. Closed it. Picked up his phone and decided to burn it all down.
Now he makes videos mocking the same people he was going to beg for help. Influencers weeping over the wrong luxury car. Creators demanding payment for chewing food on camera. Someone having a breakdown about ice cubes. And guess what? The internet ate it up. His popcorn keeps selling out. And from Gujarat, his grandmother's 60-year-old recipe is now moving units because her grandson got mad enough to be funny about it.
Jay’s grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere Instagram/daadisnacks
The kitchen story
Daadi means grandmother in Hindi. Jay's daadi came to America from Gujarat decades ago. Every weekend, she made popcorn with the spices she grew up with, including cardamom, cinnamon, and chilli mixes. It was her way of keeping home close while living somewhere that didn't taste like it.
Jay wanted that in stores. Wanted brown faces in the snack aisle. It didn’t happen overnight. It took a couple of years to get from a family recipe to something they could actually sell. Everyone pitched in, including his grandmom, uncle, mum. The spices come from small local farmers. There are just two flavours for now, Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala. It’s all vegan and gluten-free, packed in bright bags that instantly feel South Asian.
The videos don't look like marketing. They look like someone venting at 11 PM after scrolling too long. He nails the nasal influencer voice. The fake sympathy. “I can’t believe this,” he says in that exaggerated influencer tone, “they gave me the cheaper car, only eighty grand instead of one-twenty.” That clip alone blew up, pulling in close to nine million views.
Most people don't know they're watching a snack brand. They think it's social commentary. Jay never calls himself an influencer. He says he’s a creator, period. There’s a difference, and he makes sure people know it. His TikTok has around three hundred thousand followers, Instagram about half that. The comments read like a sigh of relief, people fed up with fake polish, finally hearing someone say what everyone else was thinking.
This fits into something called deinfluencing; people pushing back against the buy-everything-trust-nobody cycle. But Jay's version has teeth. He's naming names, calling out the economics. Big venture money flows to chains with good lighting. Family businesses with actual stories get ignored because their content isn't slick enough.
Jay watched his New York neighbourhood change. Chains moved in. Influencers posted about places that had funding and were aesthetic. The old spots, the family ones, got left behind. His videos are about that gap. The erosion of local culture by money and aesthetics.
"Big chains and VC-funded businesses are promoted at the expense of local ones," he said. His content doesn't just roast influencers. It promotes other small food makers who can't afford to play the game. He positions Daadi as a defender of something real against something plastic.
And it's working. Not just philosophically. Financially. The videos drive traffic. People click through, try the popcorn, come back. The company can't keep stock. That's the proof.
Daadi popcorn features authentic Gujarat flavours like Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free Daadi Snacks
The blowback
People unfollow because they think he's too harsh. Jay's take: "I would argue I need to be meaner."
In May, he posted that he's not chasing content creation money like most people at his follower count. "I post to speak my mind and help my family's snack biz." That's a different model. Most brands pay influencers to make everything look perfect. They chase viral polish, and Jay does the opposite. In fact, he weaponises rawness and treats criticism like a product feature.
The internet mostly backs him. Reddit threads light up with support. One commenter was "toxic influencers choking on their matcha lattes searching their Balenciaga bags." Another: "Influencers are boring and unoriginal and can get bent." The anger is shared. Jay simply gave it a microphone and a snack to buy.
Jay's success says something about where things are going. People are done with curated perfection. They can smell the artificiality now. They respond to brands that feel like humans rather than committees. Daadi doesn't sell aspiration. Doesn't sell a lifestyle. Sells popcorn and a point of view.
The quality matters, including the spices, the sourcing, and the family behind it. But the edge matters too. He’s not afraid to say what most brands tiptoe around. “We just show who we are,” Jay says. “No pretending, no gloss. People can feel that and that’s when they reach for the popcorn.”
Most small businesses can't afford to play the traditional game. Can't pay influencers. Can't hire agencies. Can't fake their way into feeds. Maybe they don't need to. Maybe honesty and humour can cut through if they're sharp enough. If the product backs it up. If the story is real and the person telling it isn't trying to sound like a PR script.
This started with a list Jay didn't use. The business took off the moment he stopped trying to play by the usual rules and started speaking his mind. Turns out, honesty sells. And yes, the popcorn really does taste good.
Daadi Snacks merch dropInstagram/daadisnacks
The question is whether this scales. Whether other small businesses watch this and realise they don't need to beg for attention from people who don't care. Right now, Daadi keeps selling out. People keep watching. The grandmother's recipe that was supposed to need influencer approval is doing fine without it. Better than fine. Turns out the most effective marketing strategy might just be giving a damn and not being afraid to show it.
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