20/07/2026
When Sardar Gurbachan Singh Maan arrived in Britain in 1936, he came believing England would provide the opportunity to earn enough money to support his wife and seven children back in Punjab. Instead, as his grandson later recalled, "The English did not give jobs to men who looked like him."
After being taught the ropes to start working as a (travelling salesman), he travelled to Hastings to get his pedlar’s licence, and then straight to Dover, where he lodged above a pub from 1937-39.
His first destination was Dover, where there was less competition than London.
For six days every week, Gurbachan walked the streets carrying a large suitcase filled with ready-made clothing and household goods. Shirts, socks, ties, scarves, aprons and other lightweight items were easier to carry over long distances. On the seventh day, he traded from Dover's open-air market before starting the journey all over again the following week.
Many pedlars lived in small, shared lodgings. Their stock often doubled as bedding at night, making clothing one of the most practical goods to sell.
Although Gurbachan was earning money, it wasn't coming quickly enough. He later admitted the reality of Britain was very different from the stories he had heard in Punjab. There were times when he went hungry, and life in Dover could be lonely.
After about a year, he returned to Aldgate in London's East End, renting a small room near the Brooke Bond Tea factory instead of staying in the crowded pedlar lodging houses. The East End was already home to generations of newcomers. Huguenots fleeing religious persecution, Irish labourers, Jewish families escaping persecution in Eastern Europe, Indian lascars and economic migrants all lived side by side in one of 's poorest districts.
When the Second World War began, Gurbachan moved to Canterbury, where he remained between 1939 and 1941, before relocating to Hailsham from 1941 to 1943. It was considered safer than London during the Blitz, but wartime rationing meant food was scarce. Used to the rich food of the , he became noticeably gaunt during these years.
Even while based in Kent and Sussex, Gurbachan regularly travelled back to London to collect fresh stock and catch up with fellow Punjabi pedlars, whose weekly gatherings became an important source of friendship and support.
One incident in Hailsham stayed with him for the rest of his life. His landlady, Mrs Nolan, blamed his long hair for repeatedly blocking the bath drain. Fearing he would lose the affordable room he had worked so hard to secure, Gurbachan made the difficult decision to cut his hair and remove his turban. It was a practical decision made in order to survive. The familiar clean-shaven photographs of Gurbachan displayed around Punjab Restaurant today date from this period. In later life, he returned to wearing his turban with pride.
By April 1946, after almost ten years travelling Britain's streets with nothing more than a suitcase of goods, took over a teahouse at 5 Braham Street, Aldgate, establishing what became Punjab Restaurant & Café.
The story of Punjab didn't begin in a restaurant. It began on the streets of Britain, one doorstep at a time.
