Moving to the UK for higher education felt like stepping into a dream—with its Gothic campuses, organized bus stops, perfectly brewed tea, and quiet order. But alongside the excitement of being in a new country came waves of unfamiliarity, nuance, and realisation. I had expected change. What I hadn’t expected was how deeply the cultural differences would shape me—not just as a student, but as a person.

As a Jain Indian student, the transition to British life wasn’t just about learning new academic methods or adjusting to the weather. It was a journey through unfamiliar kitchens, quiet streets, subtle social codes, and weekends that felt strangely different. The culture shock didn’t arrive all at once—it came in slow waves, from the first time I walked into a supermarket and couldn’t find a single jain snack, to realising that saying “you alright?” doesn’t mean someone thinks you look unwell.

Over time, and with patience, these differences turned from discomfort into growth. Here’s a personal look at some of the key cultural adjustments I faced as part of my student experience, and how the journey helped me expand without letting go of who I am. 

The Food Shift: More Than Just Ingredients

As a practicing Jain, food is more than just sustenance—it’s an extension of belief, tradition, and discipline. Back home in India, my dietary needs—vegetarian, no onion or garlic—were normal. In the UK, it felt like navigating a daily puzzle. 

Supermarkets were the first challenge. Reading ingredients on every item became second nature. Even simple foods like soups, chips, and sauces often contained meat extracts or “hidden” ingredients like onion powder. Eating out, especially with classmates, required careful scanning of menus—and sometimes awkward explanations. 

What surprised me, though, was how willing people were to understand. My friends, initially unfamiliar with Jainism, became curious. I shared the philosophy behind our practices—not from a place of rigidity, but from love. Soon, they’d check labels before offering me snacks or plan movie nights with Jain-friendly food. 

It took a while, but I discovered UK-based vegan and Jain-adaptable brands, started experimenting with substitutes, and even hosted Jain food nights where I cooked amazing jain dishes by using plantains instead of potato and food without garlic. The cultural adjustment wasn’t about letting go—it was about creating space for my culture to coexist with theirs. 

Social Structure and Independence

In India, especially in Jain families, life is deeply community-driven. We’re raised with a strong sense of family, collective decisions, and deep-rooted values like compassion, simplicity, and mindfulness. So moving into a solo studio apartment in a foreign country felt like more than just a logistical shift—it was an emotional one. 

At first, the silence felt strange. There was no background hum of family conversations, no smell of fresh tadka from the kitchen, no calls to join the dinner table. But gradually, I began to find a rhythm of my own. I created rituals—lighting a diya in the morning, playing Jain stavans while cooking, marking Jain festivals with homemade dishes. 

The UK lifestyle emphasizes personal space, independence, and time management. It’s a culture that respects privacy and encourages solitude. That can be freeing—but also isolating. As an international student, I learned to strike a balance: holding on to my Indian warmth while adapting to a more individualistic environment. 

Festivals Without Family

Festivals are the soul of Indian culture—and for Jains, celebrations like Paryushan, Mahavir Jayanti, and Diwali are deeply spiritual. They are not just days on a calendar, but periods of reflection, fasting, prayer, and community. 

In the UK, festivals often fall on weekdays with no public holiday. There are no neighbourhood decorations, no temple processions, and no large family gatherings. The first time I celebrated Diwali away from home, I cried—not from sadness, but from the weight of absence. 

But this is where student life surprised me. We created our own celebrations. I met other Indian students, and together, we planned small get-togethers. We lit candles in our dorm kitchens, shared homemade sweets, and even held Zoom aartis with our families back home. In the quiet of a university town, we found a way to keep our culture burning bright. 

That’s the beauty of abroad life—you learn to celebrate differently, not less. 

The Way We Speak (or Don’t)

British communication is subtle. Understated. Polite almost to a fault. As Indians, and especially as Jains who are encouraged to speak with warmth and directness, this felt like a maze of unspoken rules. 

Back home, hospitality is shown with food, warmth, and insistence. In the UK, a polite “Would you like some tea?” might mean exactly that—or might be an automatic phrase with no real expectation. Deciphering tone became an art. 

I also had to get used to the humour—dry, witty, and often self-deprecating. What I mistook for sarcasm was actually playfulness. It took a few missed punchlines and delayed laughs, but eventually, I grew to love the sharp British wit. 

The cultural differences in conversation were subtle but important. Silence, for example, isn’t seen as uncomfortable here. People give you space in conversations—and physical space too. As someone raised in a warm, affectionate culture, this took adjusting to. But it also taught me to listen better, and to communicate with more awareness. 

Weekend Culture and Social Time 

Back home, weekends were for family visits, temple darshan, or attending community events. In the UK, weekends are more casual—pub nights, brunches, or personal hobbies. 

Initially, I found it hard to fit in. As someone who doesn’t drink alcohol and follows a lifestyle rooted in Jain ethics, I was unsure how to navigate the social scene. But student activities aren’t one-size-fits-all. I discovered book clubs, hiking groups, and volunteering opportunities. 

More importantly, I found a circle of friends who respected my boundaries. We spent evenings cooking, playing board games, watching Netflix, and even painting. Over time, I realised you don’t need to change who you are to have fun—you just need to find your people. 

Academic Differences and Personal Growth 

The academic style in the UK rewards originality, research, and debate. As a study abroad student, the switch from rote learning to critical thinking was challenging—but empowering. 

Professors treat students as equals. You’re encouraged to challenge ideas, write with your own voice, and manage your deadlines independently. This level of trust felt refreshing, but also pressured me to take full responsibility for my education. 

Through this, I discovered confidence I never knew I had. I spoke up in seminars, presented case studies, and submitted essays I was proud of. The student experience in the UK has shaped not only my mind—but my identity. 

Compassion Looks Different, But Feels the Same 

As a Jain, the principle of ahimsa—non-violence—is central to how I see the world. Back home, this is reflected in everything: from food and dress to language and relationships. 

In the UK, I found a different expression of compassion. People care deeply about causes—animal rights, climate change, mental health. While the practices may differ, the spirit is familiar. It helped me realise that values can cross cultures, even if the rituals don’t. 

This shared humanity became the bridge between my Indian-Jain identity and the new world I was living in. 

Conclusion: Learning to Belong Without Letting Go 

My time in the UK has been a gentle reshaping—a refining of who I am, not a replacement. The cultural adjustment was real, sometimes painful, often confusing. But it was also powerful. 

As a Jain Indian international student, I’ve learned that you don’t need to abandon your roots to grow new branches. You can carry your culture with pride—wrapped in the simplicity of home-cooked meals, the discipline of your beliefs, and the warmth of your traditions. 

Yes, I’ve changed. My accent has softened, my wardrobe now includes waterproof boots, and I say “cheers” without thinking. But at my core, I’m still me—just broader, bolder, and deeply grateful for this journey. 

And to every international student preparing to leave home: take your culture with you. Let it evolve. Let it teach and be taught. Because in this beautiful collision of identities, you’ll find something extraordinary.

Authored By
Rijuka Jain

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