When I stepped off the plane at Heathrow Airport in 1974, I was 19 years old, clutching a suitcase and carrying less than £10 in my pocket. I was supposed to be here to study engineering. What I didn’t realise at the time was that I had actually arrived to build an entire life — from scratch.

I had no idea how cold it would be. I had no idea what culture shock meant. And I definitely had no idea that within a few decades, I’d be running multiple businesses, surviving a terrorist bombing, hosting prime ministers at my restaurant, and helping shape national conversations on identity and belonging.

Back then, I just needed a warm coat and a way to pay rent.

The Right Call: Showing Up with an Open Mind

Looking back, one of the smartest things I did wasn’t something I planned — it was simply that I showed up open. Open to learning, failing, adapting. I didn’t come to Britain thinking I knew how everything worked. I listened. I watched. I asked questions.

My elder brother, Muslim, who had arrived earlier, took me under his wing. He ran a small grocery store in Whitechapel. Every evening after my college classes, I helped out. I learned what sold, what didn’t, how customers behaved, how to read invoices, and how to stretch a pound. That shop became my unofficial MBA.

It wasn’t glamorous — but the lessons were gold.

The Wrong Assumption: That Hard Work Alone Was Enough

In the early years, I worked as hard as I could. I stacked shelves, managed stock, swept floors, helped customers, and went to college. I thought effort would automatically lead to success. But I was wrong.

Hard work is essential — but it’s not enough. You need to think strategically. You need to be willing to pivot. You need to watch the horizon.

Eventually, I realized that staying small wasn’t the goal. I wasn’t meant to just survive in Britain. I was meant to build in it.

The Turning Point: Stepping Off the Expected Path

My family — like many immigrant families — had noble, linear dreams: become an engineer or doctor, get a job, send money home. And I respect that dream. But it wasn’t mine.

By my second year, I was spending more time working than studying. Not because I didn’t care about education — but because I began to see another path opening. I was making connections, handling money, negotiating deals. And I was good at it.

Eventually, I made the controversial decision to leave college and focus on business. Everyone thought I was mad. But deep down, I knew: this was my real education.

What I Got Right: Starting Small but Thinking Big

I didn’t rent an office or hire a team straight away. I started from behind the counter. I sold what I knew people wanted — music cassettes, newspapers from back home, cheap electronics. I stayed close to the customer. I knew their stories because they were my stories too.

Then I took risks. I started importing tapes. I negotiated directly with suppliers. I branded my own products. Eventually, Harper Electronics was born — and my small, scrappy operation became a national distributor.

What I Got Wrong: Delaying Systems and Structure

For a long time, everything lived in my head: stock levels, supplier names, pricing, delivery dates. That worked — until it didn’t. As the business grew, I hit a wall. I needed systems. Invoicing. Inventory. Training. I learned the hard way that scaling without structure is chaos.

So I invested in systems. I hired smart people. I let go of the idea that I had to do everything myself.

That shift changed my business — and my life.

Lessons That Still Hold True

It’s been over 40 years since I first walked the streets of Brick Lane. The skyline’s changed, the community’s grown, and digital disruption has transformed the game. But some truths remain:

• Listen to the street before you pitch to the boardroom.
• Start with service — profit will follow.
• Don’t just make money. Build trust.
• The best branding is reputation.
• And never forget where you started — even if you outgrow it.

If I had one message for anyone starting out now — immigrant or not — it would be this: Don’t wait until you feel ready. Start with what you have, where you are. You don’t need a plan for the next 20 years. You need a plan for the next 20 days — and the courage to keep going.

Because you never know. That £10 might not last. But the dream just might.