In the heart of BD3, where shops have come and gone, one family-run business has stood its ground, not with loud banners or fancy storefronts, but with quiet endurance, grit, and values passed down through generations. This year, DIY Bradford, a local hardware and plumbing supply store, celebrates 30 years in business. But this isn’t just a story about trade; it’s about migration, sacrifice, brotherhood, and building something lasting from nothing.
Mohammad Saraj was just 24 years old when he spotted what would become their first shop. It was a boarded-up old corner building on Killinghall Road, a four-bedroom family home and a newsagent. Saraj was driving taxis at the time, a job common among South Asian immigrants then. Like many others, he was working late nights to support his family, still unsure of what the future might hold. But that night, something shifted.
“I was rerouted one evening and passed this boarded-up unit,” he recalls. “Something in me said this could work. We weren’t looking for perfection, we were looking for a chance.”
At the time, Bradford’s South Asian community was deeply embedded in the local economy. Many were opening newsagents and grocery stores, an honourable trade that served the neighbourhood and put food on the table. But Saraj’s father had a different philosophy. A man of few words but lasting wisdom, he told his sons: “If you buy newspapers, they go out of date. If you buy milk and bread, it goes out of date. Do something that doesn’t go out of date.”
That advice stayed with Saraj and his elder brother Afsaar. Alongside their other brothers, they pooled £45,000 and bought the property. “We didn’t know anything about plumbing parts or tools,” Saraj says. “But we weren’t afraid to learn. We just knew we wanted a business, not a job.”
That distinction, he says, is crucial. “If you take the doctor out, the clinic closes. Take the barber out, and the shop shuts. That’s not a business. That’s a job. We wanted to build something that ran beyond us.”
Saraj moved into the top floor of the property with his wife. “At first, it was just basic items like paint, piping, a few screws here and there. Bradford at the time was full of renovation. Immigrant families were buying homes and fixing them up. That wave helped us grow.”
Eventually, the business began expanding slowly but surely. And one day, growth knocked on Saraj’s door. “My brother came upstairs and said, ‘We need you to move
out. I need this space.’ That meant I had to move out,” he laughs. “It was no longer a house. It was becoming something more.”
At that point, Saraj was still working, but the business needed him full-time. “My brother said, ‘alright, it’s time for you to leave and join us permanently.’ I left the job and never looked back.”
Everything was manual back then. From inventory to signage. “We couldn’t just print a sign like you can now. We hired a local artist to paint our shop banner. It’s small details like that you remember the effort, the doing.”
As the business grew, the brothers never forgot where they came from or who they were doing it for. “We were open seven days a week, rain or shine. We listened to people. That’s what kept us going.” And as each year passed, Saraj took the business mindset deeper. “When I was studying business at university, they taught the four Ps: price, product, place, promotion. But what matters is the first question: Do you want to do business, or do you want to do something you’re good at? There’s a difference.”
His passion for systems over products shaped their journey. “Today I sell plumbing parts. Tomorrow I’ll sell fruit if I have to. It’s not about what you sell. It’s about how you structure it. Set a standard operating procedure. Build a system that works without you.”
By 2008, the brothers had grown the business into multiple branches. Their father, always one step ahead, advised them once again. “Don’t wait to fall out. Divide it while you’re still happy.” So, they did. Each brother took a location, but the bond remained intact. “We still help each other when needed,” Saraj says. “Family is family.”
Today, Saraj oversees the flagship site, which includes three divisions and a 6,000 sq. ft. warehouse. DIY Bradford now supplies contractors and households across the North of England, from Manchester to Newcastle. But he still sees how people underestimate Bradford and themselves.
“Too many people say, ‘You can’t do business in Bradford.’ That’s nonsense,” says Mohammad Saraj. “Look around, there are hundreds of South Asian-run businesses doing well. We just don’t talk about them enough.” His statement is backed by data: Bradford was ranked among the top 15 UK cities to start a business in a 2021 study by Fasthosts, thanks to its high business birth rate, strong broadband connectivity, and low office rental costs. The city has also outperformed places like London in previous rankings and was recognised by The Sunday Times and Barclays Bank as one of the best locations for business growth and expansion. “Bradford’s always been underestimated,” Saraj adds. “But those of us who’ve built something here know its value.”
His biggest frustration is watching people jump into business without understanding its foundation. “I always tell the younger lot not to copy. Find the gap. Understand your
customer. Stick with it. Be consistent. We built this brick by brick, not by chasing trends.”
Now, with 30 years behind him, Saraj is planning for the next chapter, not just for his store, but for his family. He doesn’t want to hand over money or comfort. He wants to pass down values. “We don’t want to give our kids a golden spoon,” he says. “We want to hand over something built with dignity, with our own hands.”
There are plans to upgrade warehouse operations, refine online delivery systems, and create a smoother path for the next generation. But one thing will never change: the values the business was built on. “Whoever takes over must carry those values. That’s non-negotiable.”
As he reflects on three decades in business, Saraj stands quietly proud. “We didn’t come here with much. Just our family, our faith, and our father’s advice. But we built
