In the first-floor studio overlooking Connaught Place, Pavan Mahatta, 67, pulls a drawer of ageing film negatives from a wooden cabinet. The year is 1960. On the walls above, their developed counterparts live on as framed black-and-white photographs —there’s a tonga rattling past buildings in Connaught Place, early high-rises piercing the skyline, and a young city finding its footing. For nearly eight decades, Mahattas & Co. has done more than take photographs; it has documented a capital in shift. Yet today, the legacy studio faces an uncertain future, squeezed between the rise of artificial intelligence and the fragility of digital memory.
More than a commercial photography house, Mahattas & Co. is Delhi’s living visual archive. Founded before Partition, pioneered by three generations of the Mahatta family, and custodian to over ten lakh images, the studio stands at the crossroads of analogue permanence and digital disruption. As Pavan navigates AI’s polished illusions, the closure of their retail arm to e-commerce giants, and a legal fight with the Life Insurance Corporation (LIC) for premises occupied since 1947, the studio’s survival also points to a simple reality: without preservation efforts, a part of Delhi’s visual heritage could gradually fade from view.
Dalhousie to Srinagar to Delhi
The Mahatta story begins in the ’40s. Amarnath Mahatta, the founder of the studio, learned photography from British officers in Dalhousie, operating a portable darkroom that developed images within hours. By 1913, the family had relocated to Srinagar, opening their first showroom in 1915; a space that now functions as a museum.
When violence erupted in Kashmir during Partition, the family fled to Delhi in 1947, setting up shop in Connaught Place. It was here that Pavan’s father, Madan Mahatta captured one of independent India’s and Delhi’s most iconic frames: Queen Elizabeth II riding through Connaught Place in 1961 beside President Rajendra Prasad. The photograph remains a testament to a studio that has been in step with history as it unfolded.
A champion of film
Mahattas never waited for the future; they built it. The studio became India’s first authorised Kodak distributor, introduced colour printing in 1954, and adopted the country’s first digital imaging system in 1986. Yet Pavan, a chartered accountant by training who never practised, remains fiercely protective of film.
“Digital images don’t last,” he warns, pointing to hard drives that crash and clouds that migrate. By contrast, his archives hold negatives dating back seven decades, meticulously stored against moisture and time.
Today, over 3.5 lakh images are digitised, but the scanning and cataloguing of close to ten lakh originals remains a monumental, ongoing process.
The industry’s shift has been seismic. Around 2005, digital surpassed film, and today, AI tools like Photoshop’s generative features can conjure photorealistic images in fifteen seconds. Pavan acknowledges AI’s utility for retouching and commercial efficiency but notes its telltale flaw: an unnatural smoothness that lacks the texture of captured light. He explains the exposure triangle—ISO, shutter speed, and aperture—as a fundamental language that technology cannot replace, only translate.
Difficult times
The studio’s business has adapted accordingly. Retail sales have seen a dip as online giants undercut prices, forcing the closure of their ground-floor showroom. Yet commercial photography thrives, with Mahattas recently documenting Delhi’s airport, Goa’s new terminals, and Vizag’s upcoming infrastructure.
Despite their cultural weight, legacy studios like Mahattas do not receive government support. The family is locked in a legal battle with LIC, which claims they are unauthorised occupants despite paying rent and occupying the building even before LIC’s own establishment.
“If we go, Delhi loses a heritage place,” Pavan says. They fight not just for square footage, but for the right to maintain a physical anchor in a rapidly digitising capital. He recalls turning a bathroom into a darkroom to teach Amitabh Bachchan photography during the actor’s recovery from his Coolie accident, describing it as an unexpected and memorable period.
Photography’s core principle remains unchanged: light captured onto a medium. Whether through silver halides or silicon sensors, the act of preservation defines the Mahatta legacy. With digital photography now dominant and AI capable of generating images in seconds, the studio’s true archive isn’t just in its drawers—it is in the belief that some frames must outlive us. In an age of digital images and AI, Mahattas reminds us that memory needs preservation. Delhi’s visual history depends on it.