Manjula Sood MBE Funeral: Leicester Honors Its Historic First Female Lord Mayor in Farewell Ceremony

The funeral service for Manjula Sood MBE, the UK’s first female Lord Mayor, was held on 10 January 2026 in Leicester.

Family, friends and colleagues gathered for the service, with the procession setting off from her family home and making its way through the city. It also paused at the Belgrave Neighbourhood Centre, where people had the chance to pay their final respects.

Reflections by Suleman Nagdi 

I arrived at Manjula’s house at quarter past seven in the morning. The family had asked me to come early, and I was glad to be there for them. The air was bitterly cold for January—cold that catches in your throat—and frost clung stubbornly to every car on the street.

The hearse pulled up, followed by the black limousine. There she was-Manjula’s coffin draped in the Union Flag, the flag of the country she had loved so fiercely. Then, breaking the morning silence, came the sound of a lone bagpipe.

We were all dressed in our sombre best, but the mood was not simply one of grief. There was something else threading through the sadness-a quiet determination to honour her, to celebrate all she had been.

The cortege wound its way through streets she had known so well: Evington Road, Belgrave Road, London Road. I saw people standing respectfully on the pavements at various points. Even in death, Manjula commanded the same respect she had always earned in life.

At Great Glen, some gathered first for the religious ceremony before moving to the main chapel. I had never seen it so full.

Every seat was taken, with people standing wherever they could find space. The City Mayor rose to speak, and his words struck me deeply—he called her his friend, his critic, his supporter. Someone who had offered wise counsel when it mattered most. That was Manjula exactly.

But it was her sons’ tributes that truly broke my heart open. The love, the warmth, the gratitude—it poured from them. And then her grandson, so impossibly young, spoke with such passion about his grandma that I was not the only one with tears. When Manjula’s granddaughter stood to read a poem, every word seemed chosen just for her grandmother. Perfect. Fitting. Beautiful.

Looking around that packed chapel, I saw something extraordinary. Politicians from opposing sides sitting together. Family and friends from every corner of our diverse communities. This rainbow of humanity—that is what Manjula had created through her life’s work. She had been a bridge-builder in the truest sense, connecting people who might never otherwise have met.

I have lost a sister. This city has lost someone who cared deeply and warmly for everyone she encountered. But the family—they have lost their mother, their grandmother. My heart aches for them as they navigate the difficult journey ahead, learning to live with this absence.

I offer them my love.