This striking portrait of Panchal’s middle son, Stephen (originally given the Indian name, Hurssh), marks the period when he was serving as a marine – one of the most respected and feared regiments in the British army – on the frontline in Helmand Province. Issues of identity and nationality, of homeland and belonging, of tradition and how we put on uniforms, are all suggested within a rich composition. Stephen, stripped to the waist – in a state of vulnerability – proudly shows off his tattoo of ‘England’ – the country of his birth, but not of his father’s heritage – and the St George’s flag. A map of Helmand Province is glimpsed on the table top, while the portrait on the wall recalls the swagger of an army recruitment poster, an air of invincibility conveyed by camouflage gear and a powerful weapon held across the body. Discarded on the back of the chair, drapes a formal mess dress jacket, splendid in its ornate red, blue and gold, indicating the ritual and historicism which go hand-in-hand with the terrifying realities of frontline army life.