I told a joke I had heard to London-based retired shopkeepers Kirit Patel and his wife Ranjan and they both exploded with laughter. "Why," I said, "are Indians not allowed to play football in the world cup? Because every time they get a corner they want to open a shop!"
Owning a corner shop, however, for the thousands of Asians in the UK who choose to earn a living this way, is no joke. Apart from the unavoidably long hours, from early morning until late at night, seven days a week, the question of shop security and personal safely looms large in their day-to-day lives.
Kirit, aged 75, and Ranjan, 70. had owned a shop in Shepherds Bush, a previously rough but now respectable west London district. These days, from the comfort and serenity of their elegant suburban bungalow in Greenford, Middlesex, they can sit back in retirement and recall some of the hair-raising experiences they encountered over a 26-year spell.
Their general store sold groceries, tobacco and newspapers and also had an off-licence section selling alcohol, the latter always posing a temptation to light-fingered customers.
"We were attacked, robbed and threatened more than twelve times," Kirit said. shaking his head. He and Ranjan mostly manned the shop together to put off thieves, but that show of mutual support behind the counter did not always deter the miscreants.
One afternoon Ranjan happened to be on her own at the till and suspected trouble might be building up when she saw a man loitering near the shop entrance. An obvious accomplice also walked into the shop and pretended to study items on the shelves while another moved closer to the counter.
"Suddenly," she said, "the man near me pointed at the till and shouted: 'Give me the money!' " Ranjan stood still. He then tried banging on it but it was locked and only accessible by using a special code. Losing patience the man grabbed cigarettes and telephone cards instead and sprinted away with his two accomplices.
"Luckily," Kirit said, "there were some council workmen and telephone engineers nearby and they noted details of the getaway car which turned out to be stolen." Later the police closed the shop for half a day while they took fingerprints." Although they lost business their insurance company reimbursed them.
"Usually," Kirit said, "I parked my car outside the shop and its absence must have attracted their attention, so they decided to try their luck."
On another occasion two young men popped in and helped themselves to bottles of whisky and brandy as well as cigarettes and ran off.
One day Kirit and Ranjan stared at a well-dressed man, who, while staring back at them, opened a carton of eggs and helped himself to one. "He then turned and calmly walked away without paying," Ranjan said.. "But we didn’t think it worth running after him and demanding payment because it was such a small item."
Kirit added: "Another time, when we were busy at the counter, a man helped himself to two coconuts and hurried away without paying. Sometimes customers would pick up two items, drop one of them into a bag and pay for just the one they had in their hand."
For enhanced security the Patels kept their till in the middle of the shop rather than at the far end to deter easier getaways by thieves. "In this business," Kirit said, "you have to be aware of what is happening in the shop at all times even when there is a queue of people waiting to pay for their purchases."
"One man," Ranjan said, "went to our newspaper rack every Sunday, slyly pulled out the colour magazines from the various newspapers on display, slipped them into a bag and disappeared out of the door. This meant we could not sell any of the papers without their magazines."
There was a woman who specialised in making off with cheese without being caught.
Most shopkeepers, the couple said, have to be particularly vigilant during school breaks when pupils swarm in, reaching for everything from crisps to sweets. Many shops allow only two pupils in at a time so they could be more closely monitored while they move around the aisles.
At 7pm one day a man, wearing a woollen hat pulled down over his ears, entered the shop and began to browse along a rack of magazines. His hat and strange behaviour aroused the suspicions of Kirit and Ranjan and they were proved right.
"Suddenly," Kirit said, "the man took out a long knife and slashed the live wire leading to the till. He then wrenched the till off the counter and hurried away with it out of the shop. I went after him as he dashed to a waiting car in which he dumped the till in the back seat."
Kirit grabbed the man's leg as he was getting in but let go when his accomplice driver started the car and drove off. The frightening experience left Kirit with a knee injury which still prevents him from walking long distances.
The couple moved to Britain in 1967 from Bhadran, Gujarat and Kirit, who was interested in pottery, studied ceramics at a Midlands college, then had ten "enjoyable and creative years" at the world-famous Royal Worcester firm producing pottery decorations until he was made redundant.
Ruefully he said: "At that time, in Staffordshire, there were around 200 potteries. Today, according to a survey, there are fewer than 20."
The idea of running a corner shop had appealed to them back in those days and they set the plan in motion. Would they follow the same path now? I asked.
"No," they said in unison. Kirit added: "Business rates now are too high to make a decent profit. At one time corner shops were a vital part of local community life but now shoppers are more mobile, happy to drive to supermarkets further afield which are able to offer them bigger discounts and other incentives to keep them coming back. There is no loyalty to corner shops any more."
A number of hobbies keep them happily occupied these days including reading, watching television documentaries, news and current affairs as well as wildlife programmes presented by Sir David Attenborough. They also like to take short daily walks to keep fit.
[Rudy Otter, 81, a retired Anglo-Indian freelance journalist, was for many years a regular columnist on ABPL's Asian Business, the former fortnightly magazine for independent retailers. He also wrote news and features for the Group's New Life, predecessor of this newspaper, and continues to write occasionally for Asian Voice.]
