Shutting Shop: Are Indian-Run Corner Shops in the UK Dying Out?

Jitendra Pandit laughingly recalls daily “clashes” between Indian and British cultures that he’d witness at his shop

Front view of late Chhaganlal Mistry’s shop in Leicester. (Photo Courtesy: Hemendra Mistry)

Rajanibhai and Hemendrabhai’s friendship dates back to the early 1970s. They were in their early 20s then.

Both residents of Leicester, Rajanibhai and a few of his friends would meet at Hemendrabhai’s shop in the evenings, and like any other youngsters, would exchange gossip and sit outside the shop, “taking the mickey out of each other”, Rajanibhai recalls.

At times, we used to fall short of money to buy basic items, so we used to go to Hemendra’s shop and the father-son duo used to give us items in credit. Everything was built on trust.

Inside view of the shop owned by late Chhaganlal Mistry. (Photo Courtesy: Hemendra Mistry)

The duo credit the corner shop owned by Hemendrabhai’s father late Chhaganlal Mistry in Wand Street, Leicester, 143 kms from London with their four-decade-long-friendship. There were very few corner shops owned by Asians in the UK at that time.

In those days, the corner shop wasn’t only a place for business between shopkeepers and customers but was also a place where people would congregate to have a chit-chat or share information.

Rajanibhai

Corner Shops in the 1970s

Most of the first generation of Asians who migrated to the UK were professionals in various fields – but to become owners of their own businesses would involve a lot of financial risk.

The Asian corner shop has been a common sight since the early 1960s when people of Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi origin migrated to Britain in large numbers. In the early 70s, the exodus of people of South Asian descent from Uganda, led many to settle in the UK. It was during this period that corner shops in England grew in multitudes.

The Mistrys finally pulled down the shutters to their business in 1982 due to the growing competition from supermarkets.

An old photograph of the Pandits’ corner shop. (Photo Courtesy: Jitendra Pandit)

Manchester-based Jitendra Pandit’s parents, late Bhanubhai and Prabhaben Pandit, started a corner shop in the front room of their terrace house at Moss Side in the city.

Personally, owning a shop helped me integrate more with the society than my friends who didn’t own shops. It helped me to understand the multi-cultural system at a deeper level. As a result, I became friends with some non-Asian boys who would invite me to their family functions. Our friendship still exists.

Jitendra Pandit

The Pandits sold their business in 2008.

Jitendra Pandit remembers the few colloquial words that he’d picked up while running the business in the 70s. (Photo Courtesy: Jitendra Pandit)

Pandit stresses on how the corner shop “helped us learn English and the art of talking to a variety of people”.

He also laughingly recounts the daily “clashes” between Indian and British cultures that he’d witness at his shop.

When a young attractive British woman would call my father a ‘lover boy’ when asking for cigarettes, my mother would look quite horrified. On the other hand, when English men called my mother ‘love’ or ‘darling’, she would get the shock of her life. With time, however, these harmless terms of endearment were soon reciprocated!

While talking to this writer, he also willingly breaks into the few colloquial words that he’d picked up while running the business in the 70s’. Words like ‘ourkid’ for little brother, ‘gaff’ for a house, ‘graft’ for work, ‘ton’ for £100, are some of his favourites.

The New Meets the Old

However, there’s a palpable sense of worry among the older generation as their children are opting for different professions, and aren’t willing to take over the family business.

An old photograph from Parul Vithlani’s photo album featuring the late Purshotam Sachdev with the then Mayor John Petit of Tameside, during the opening of Ashton Sweet Mart. (Photo Courtesy: Parul Vithalni)

But, Manchester-based Parul Vithlani who looks after her father’s business along with her two brothers and nephews, is testimony of the opposite.

In the 70s, Parul’s parents, late Purshotam Sachdev and his wife Lilawati, started their business from a small corner shop at Cotton Street, in Ashton-under-Lyne in Greater Manchester. Apart from selling daily provisions, the couple also sold home-made Gujarati savouries and English sweets and groceries, which became popular among the customers.

Popularly known as ‘Kaka’, Purshotam extended his business from a corner shop to Ashton Sweet Mart (ASM) on Oldham Road, which is now run by his children, grandchildren and their wives. The family also owns Lily’s, a vegetarian restaurant on the same premises.

Ashton Sweet Mart today. (Photo Courtesy: Parul Vithalni)

We still have a good relationship with our old customers who knew our parents very well. One of them who recently moved to London came to our shop to express their gratitude for having served them for so many years. That was the kind of bond my parents shared with their customers, but over the years, things have changed.

Parul Vithlani

(Anjana Parikh works with the healthcare sector in the UK. She's also a freelance writer based in Manchester. Before relocating to the UK in 2013, she worked as a full-time journalist with some of India's leading dailies like The Times of India, Deccan Herald and The Sunday Guardian. She also worked as the News Editor for a leading British Asian weekly Asian Lite. Apart from reading and writing, she also loves rambling and singing.)

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