I saw a member of a nearly-extinct species today. It was shiny, bright green, and found in the most unlikely of places, a dusty Mumbai pavement. It was a typewriter, its owner an inconspicuous man unaware of the power his device exerted over a 20-something girl fed on a diet of computers, laptops and tablets. He uncovered it from a blue cloth bag, placed it onto a makeshift wooden table, and seated behind his instant desk on a ledge in the pavement, got busy with his morning newspaper. Bombay has one of the highest real-estate prices in the world. Try telling that to the countless roadside businessmen who create their offices in the heart of the city, all for free.

The only tales of typewriters I hear are of grandfatherly figures attached to their machines, and writers who prefer the zing of their ancient relics to mechanical clicks. Curious about these people who don’t pay a visit to the ubiquitous internet cafes that have sprouted all over the city,
I walked over and asked the owner what he did with his shiny oiled typewriter. He gave me the once-over, and recognizing I was no potential customer became brusque in his manner. “I type documents out for people,” he said. “Who are these people?” I pressed. A glare later, he replied, “Advocates from the court”. The High Court was across the road and it turned out lawyers would
walk over to this old man with sheets of paper to get documents typed. I wondered how I had never previously noticed that every single page of the 36-page deed of my mother’s new house had the stressed imprint of a typewriter and not the smooth emboss of a printer.

It’s impressive how these CEOs of sorts have carved out a niche for themselves when their trade is so much threatened by the onslaught of technology. Many typing centres are buying computers, but the future of these one-man centres is one they don’t know yet. The world’s last typewriter factory existed in Mumbai before it was shut down this year. Perhaps it is convenience they offer, perhaps it’s efficiency, perhaps a familiarity with official formats that a computer doesn’t provide yet. Or perhaps it’s a more mundane matter of a routine that lawyers are loathe to change.

But these are tenacious Mumbaikars, and if there’s one thing you can be certain of, it’s that that little area of real estate will be put to good use by them, with or without their shiny green devices. I’d watch out for roadside printers, if I were you. Remember, you read it here first.