Old Delhi & Calligraphy: The Story of the Last Living Katib of Urdu Bazaar

A katib or calligrapher once had a place in the king's court. Today, there are few who practise this dying art.

Sixty-one-year-old Mohammed Ghalib has been practising khatati, or calligraphy, for 40 years now. He works out of a tiny shop nestled in Old Delhi’s Urdu Bazaar, pursuing a profession that was once perceived as ‘royal’.

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

Sixty-one-year-old Mohammed Ghalib has been practising khatati, or calligraphy, for 40 years now. He works out of a tiny shop nestled in Old Delhi’s Urdu Bazaar, pursuing a profession that was once perceived as ‘royal’. “Katibs or calligraphers had a good reputation in the king’s court during the Mughal era. It was one of the royal professions,” he says.  But with the advent of technology, the art of khatati (or kitabat) is dying – and so is Ghalib’s livelihood.

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

Ghalib began learning  kitabat at the age of 19. 

He says, "Main arbi madrasa me padhta tha. Waha par ye sikhlaya jata tha, taki haath saaf ho. Uss samay mera koi irada nahi tha ki kitabat karunga."

 (I used to study in an Arabic madrasa, where we were taught calligraphy. At that time, I had no intention of getting into this profession.)

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

This is Ghalib’s paraphernalia – the reeds, nibs, and ink cartridges that he uses every day. 

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

Ghalib says that though there aren't many takers for old-school calligraphy, "har din choto-mota kaam to mil hi jaata hai… kisi madrasa ke liye ya mohar ya bill banane keliye.”

 (Every day, I get small jobs; designing for some madrasa or making stamps or bills.)

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

The size of the design is measured manually before it is printed on the paper. Here, Ghalib can be seen measuring a bill book.

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

Calligraphy is a distinct art form that requires a great deal of patience. Even with practice, it is no easy task to create intricate designs. 

Ghalib says it usually takes him about 30 minutes to create one design. 

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

Sharpening his bamboo pen, he says, "Ye jo nib hai, us time England se Lahore hoke aata tha India... abhi ye sab milta nahi hai. Main khud ka bana leta hu.”

(This nib used to come from England via Lahore to India back in the day. Now, these are not available. I make my own nib using bamboo.)

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

"During the Mughal era, there were no printing presses, and all the books were written by calligraphists,” says Ghalib.

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

There are the different types of nibs and reeds that are used to make different designs. 

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

These are some of the mohars (stamps) he had made for business firms and madrasas. 

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

Ghalib and Abdul Karim have been friends for 20 years now.

Abdul has been designing the katib's work on the computer for many years.

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

After completing the designs, Ghalib blows air on them to ensure that they dry and do not blot.

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

Kitabat has lost its charm as technology has overpowered it. 

“Jo sikhne aate hain, main pooch leta hu ki shauk ke liye ya rojgaar ke taluk se.. kyunki agar rojgaar ke taluk se kiya toh koi aamdaani nahi hai”

(I ask those who come to learn whether it is for a hobby or for employment, because if they do it for employment, then there is no income.)

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

Some of the intricate designs made by Ghalib over time. 

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)

Ghalib began earning through kitabat at a very young age. Despite how things are right now, Ghalib says he has never looked back. “I never thought of shifting to another profession,“ he says.

(Photo: Ribhu Chatterjee/The Quint)