“ONE of the things that is often said to me is that people come and complain willy-nilly.

“That’s not my experience. People come to us because they have had enough and they want something done.

“They don’t necessarily want to go to courts and tribunals and receive amounts of money; all they wish to see is an end to their difficulties.”

Jaginder Bassi talks during a break in clearing his office ahead of the winding down of the racial equality council he has led since 1996. Outside in the reception area, people wait for help and advice.

Last year there were 6,500 such people, and the number shows no sign of dropping. Their problems range from racist bullying at the hands of work colleagues to racist abuse and violence at the hands of strangers, and the director is very worried about them.

Racism may not be rampant in Swindon – and Mr Bassi has never claimed it was – but it still lurks.

“I was going home yesterday just before five and there were two young people. The girl asked for a cigarette and when I said no I was called a Paki so-and-so.

“I stood my ground and they told me to get back to my own country. I told them that I was in my own country and I was told, ‘no, you’re not.’ “This is where I differ with some of the politicians. They have no conception. You’ve been living in the UK, you’ve learned the language, you’ve integrated, you’ve made all the effort and by and large most people would perceive you to be educated and articulate, and yet you will still face these sorts of issues from time to time.”

Mr Bassi was born in the Punjab, the youngest of three brothers. The family followed his father to the Midlands in the 1950s. They settled in Wolverhampton, where Mr Bassi’s father worked in a tyre plant.

Immigrants from the former British Empire may have been welcomed by a post-war economy short of workers, but some of the indigenous population were of a different opinion.

“It was pretty bad in the playground,” Mr Bassi said. “‘Paki-bashing’ was a fairly common phenomenon in those days. One of the things I remember vividly is the communities organising themselves against racist attacks in the 1960s.”

There were other campaigns. One he recalls, but was too young to take part in, succeeded in overturning a local bus company’s policy of refusing employment to anybody wearing a turban.

The young man went on to study biological sciences at Aston and spend a year working in a car parts factory in Kent.

In his 20s, he found an early vocation as a youth worker in Wolverhampton and was employed by the local community relations council.

In 1982, wanting to experience life in another part of the country, he joined what was then known as Thamesdown Racial Equality Council.

“When I came here I had a bit of a culture shock,” he said. “There were very few BME (Black and Minority Ethnic) communities and people in Swindon. Where I grew up in the Midlands there was some sort of remnant of Punjabi culture, but that appeared not to be the case in Swindon.

“But I found it a challenge for my work – I was one of few black or Asian people working in the voluntary sector or in the area generally.”

Although Swindon has had few truly high-profile racial incidents, the racial equality council has never been short of issues to tackle, whether individuals’ problems or the attitudes of certain powerful organisations.

“The biggest change has been to get those in authority, those in power, to ensure that the needs of the BME communities are being met.”