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In the bustle of Connaught Place’s Odeon Building, a modest glass shopfront carries a sign that simply reads “India’s Oldest Toy Store – Since 1890”. Behind it lies Ram Chander & Sons: a narrow but storied space, stacked to the rafters with board games, dolls, puzzles and model trains.
The store began life in Ambala Cantonment in 1890, expanded to Kasauli in 1928, and found its permanent home in Delhi in 1935, just two years after Connaught Place itself was completed. It has remained here ever since, becoming as much a part of the city’s landscape as the colonnades that frame it.
“My name is Satish Sudhra. I’m the owner of Ram Chander and Sons, India’s oldest toy store. Started in 1890," the owner says beeming with pride and the lush grey of experience, "We shifted here in 1935, and since then, this little shop has been a landmark in Connaught Place.”
A Customer Retinue Consisting of Maharajas and Politicians
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For more than eight decades, the shop has attracted an extraordinary clientele, from royalty and British officials to Delhi’s growing middle classes.
“This particular shop of mine has seen royalty down to its basic levels. I’ve seen all the Rajas, Maharajas coming here, and I’ve seen the elite of the British,” Mr. Sudhra recalled, standing behind the counter where generations of families have been greeted in the same unhurried fashion.
The tradition of famous visitors continued post-Independence. “Indira Gandhi came here with her children. Rajiv Gandhi also came with Rahul and Priyanka. They all had their favourite toys,” he remembered with a smile. But for him, the real pride lies in the store’s universality: “This shop has catered to every kind of person—whether it’s the elite, the politicians, or the common man who wants something nice for his child.”
These anecdotes reveal not so much celebrity glamour as the democratic pull of a toy shop where everyone, from ministers to neighbourhood parents, has found a moment of joy.
Curating Generations of Childhoods, One Toy at a Time
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Ram Chander & Sons was never just a retailer; it was a curator of play. For decades, the family imported the finest toys from Europe, Britain and America, bringing global childhoods into Indian homes.
“The toys that we were importing… were very high class, solid and well designed. They were meant to last, not break after a week,” the owner explained. The emphasis was on longevity and imagination—whether a Märklin train set, a Liverpool-made Meccano kit, or a carefully chosen puzzle.
This philosophy remains at the heart of the store. “A toy is a necessity. It’s a necessary item for the children of our country,” he said, underlining that toys are not indulgences but essential tools for growth. “A toy should be something that teaches, that keeps the child busy, and that the child remembers later in life.”
Parents, too, are part of this equation. “I sometimes feel parents are not so involved with toys as they are abroad with their children. I’ve seen parents there on the floor, playing blocks and dolls with their kids. It creates a bond. Here, parents should enjoy toys too.”
For Mr. Sudhra, the most rewarding moments are when a toy sparks shared discovery. As he puts it, “People come here not just to buy, but to remember. A father who once bought a train set here returns years later with his son. That’s the cycle I’ve seen for decades.”
Keeping the Magic Alive
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The retail landscape around Connaught Place has transformed dramatically, from genteel cafés and cinemas to malls, multiplexes and global chains. Yet Ram Chander & Sons endures, its aisles still echoing with the chatter of curious children and nostalgic parents.
Despite the pressures of e-commerce, the store holds fast to its old-world identity. Guided by Satish’s humour and gentle authority, the space feels timeless. “Of course, I’m not a very old man, 89, 90,” he quipped, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
His presence is as much a draw as the toys themselves. “If I am not here for a few days, they ask me where I have been,” he laughed. It is this sense of personal connection that explains the shop’s remarkable survival.
As our conversation drew to a close, Mr. Sudhra offered one last line, as if wrapping up a story with a bow: “So let’s wish the toy industry the best of luck. Thank you so much.”
Outside, Connaught Place buzzed with its daily traffic. Inside, a bell tinkled as another family entered, a child pressing their face to the glass, discovering the same wonder that has outlived generations.