When he was 6, says Rajesh Palta, he would help his mother cut cloth into pieces that she would then sew into typewriter covers. “I have breathed and lived typewriters all my life,” he says.Seventy-four-year-old Palta is the owner of Universal Typewriter Company in Nehru Place, one of the last remaining shops in the city — and the country — where typewriters are repaired and restored, and vintage models of these once-essential, now-obsolete machines are sold to those who, for whatever reason, still care.“My grandfather started this business in Lahore in 1912, two years after typewriters arrived in India. My father set up Universal Typewriter Co. in Lahore in 1937,” he recalls.After Partition, the family moved to what was then Bombay, and a branch of the Paltas settled in Delhi in 1964. “We have been at it for so long that we are known as the Palta family typewriterwalas,” Palta says.Palta himself joined the family business in the mid-1970s. He was in his 20s then. But clouds of uncertainty were already gathering on the not-so-far horizon.Computers made an appearance in the late 1980s —and within a few years typewriter sales had begun to decline. Palta could see the writing on the wall. “On many occasions during the 1990s, I thought I should shut shop. I felt the business was doomed.”And then, Paltas sons pointed him to a new opportunity.Story continues below this ad“Just when I was ready to give up, my sons introduced me to the idea of restoring vintage typewriters and opened my eyes to the emerging market for them. They also helped me build a website. Until then, we were selling all the old machines to junk dealers,” he said.Still, as the primary demand weakened, Palta was forced to scale down his business. “In the 1990s, I had 40 technicians repairing 30-40 machines every other day. Now I have just four, and we restore two or three a week,” he said. “Through the 90s and into the early 2000s, the Tis Hazari courts complex had more than 550 typists. Today, there are 27.”The Palta family itself retreated from the family trade. All of Palta’s seven siblings, except one in Bombay, moved into other businesses — including selling computers.Today, Palta sells vintage typewriters for between Rs 8,000 and Rs 75,000, but he makes no money. All of it goes into paying staff at his Nehru Place shop — three technicians, two administrative staff, and a peon. Universal Typewriter Company has a smaller branch in Central Delhi too, where a single technician sits.Story continues below this adHis staff is loyal to him – the most recent joinee came 20 years ago, and the oldest, Rajesh Behl, has been with him 40 years now. “I am not doing this for money. My sons are settled – one is a psychiatrist and the other is an architect. I am continuing because these employees are my second family. They should keep receiving their salaries. Why should I tell them aap ghar jao (go home)? As long as they are with me, I will do this – for as along as my health allows,” Palta says.But who’s interested in typewriters any longer? Apart from the collectors there are some court staff, Palta says — and, somewhat counterintuitively, some young people as well. “They think typewriters are distraction-free, unlike computers.” Many young people find him online — and reach out to have their grandparents’ machines restored.Palta recalls the time a young woman came to his shop. “She had never used a typewriter but wanted one for her creative writing. She selected a machine she liked. Later, she sent me a photo of the typewriter on WhatApp, with the caption: ‘My first poem typed on the typewriter’.”Then there was the 80-year-old typewriter that came from Goa for restoration. “It was jammed, rusted, and broken in three places. We restored it for Rs 8,000 and sent it back. The customer sent us a photo of four members of his family sitting on a bench with the typewriter. ‘We are so happy to have our old family member back with us’, they said.”Moments such as these keep him going, says Palta.Story continues below this adThe walls of Palta’s shop are covered with pictures of vintage typewriters – a gallery of vivid reds, sun-faded yellows, polished greens, and gleaming blacks. Some of them were sent by customers. Under one photograph is written: ‘May you type, write some magic that spreads light’.Seated at a rotating wooden table, senior technician Rajesh Behl passes his verdict on a 70-year-old forest green Erika typewriter. “There’s a problem with the roller,” he tells the machine’s owner, a 30-year-old woman named Kaatyaayani. “It’s beyond repair.”Kaatyaayani is upset — she is very attached to the typewriter, which she got in 2021 as a gift from the man who is now her husband. “I wrote my MA thesis on it. When it stopped working, my writing also stopped. There’s something about the sound these machines produce that helps you focus,” she says.Also, “Using a typewriter is humbling. There is no backspace, so you have to learn to live with your mistakes.”As replacement for her 1960s Erika, Kaatyaayani picks a bright red Brother Deluxe 950TR from the 1970s. She tries it out, typing “Hello, Kaatyaayani says Hi. This is a test of this Brother typewriter”.Story continues below this adAnother customer has come from Lucknow. He is looking for a Hindi typewriter, and wants “the latest one”.Palta corrects him gently. “There is nothing called the ‘latest’ typewriter anymore. The last typewriter manufactured in India was made by Godrej and Boyce, in 2010-2011.”Out on the terrace, a technician brushes parts of a typewriter submerged in a chemical in a plastic tray. The metal shelves, painted blue, in the restoration room are lined with typewriter components and covers. Three men are hunched over their desks, restoring vintage typewriters.Restoration involves dismantling, cleaning, and finally reassembly and alignment, says Palta. “The number of components in a typewriter is 2,000; a refrigerator has 200. It takes at least five years to master the craft of restoring a typewriter.”Behl is working on a century-old Remington for a customer in Kerala. “This is his sixth day on this machine. It will take another six days to fully restore it,” Palta says.Story continues below this adThe most expensive among the 400 vintage typewriters in Palta’s collection is a rare black Mercedes that is priced at more than Rs 1 lakh. Then there is a forest green Jaykay, an Indian brand, whose keys are in Urdu. There are also typewriters with Hindi, Tamil, and Russian keys.“My favourite brands are Olivetti, which is Italian, and Olympia, which is German,” says Palta.The typewriterwala is now looking for space in Delhi to set up a typewriter museum. “When wildlife is going extinct, what do people do? They think of a sanctuary. I want a sanctuary for typewriters,” he says.