Meet G.C. Laha, the 120-Year-Old Art Shop That Supplied Satyajit Ray’s Masterpieces!

Before “Add to Cart” became a reflex and online art stores flooded our feeds, there was something wonderfully simple — walking into a store and feeling art come alive. If you ever wandered down Lenin Sarani in Kolkata and stepped into a space with chequerboard floors and a distinct scent of paper and pigment, you’ve probably been to G.C. Laha. Nestled in the heart of Esplanade, this unassuming shop has served as a silent co-pilot in the creative journeys of some of India’s most iconic artists. It’s not a place you just walk into. It’s a place you remember.

The air inside feels slow in the best way — every rack stacked with purpose, every brush waiting to meet canvas. Before the age of Instagram reels and Amazon wishlists, this is where legends like Rabindranath Tagore, Abanindranath Tagore, Nandalal Bose and Ganesh Pyne came, not just to buy materials, but to find their tools of expression. And of course, Satyajit Ray, who picked up the very paper for his Pather Panchali storyboard here — a visual narrative now housed in Paris. What was once just another corner shop started by a 16-year-old boy named Girindra Coomar Laha in 1905, has become a living museum of art’s most precious backstories.

A Legacy That’s Still in Colour

To understand G.C. Laha, you’ve got to travel back more than a century. Young Girindra Coomar Laha, from a family steeped in the paint business, opened this store in colonial India with nothing but a vision and a knack for negotiation. The turning point? A letter to Winsor & Newton — yes, the legendary British art supply brand. What followed was not just an agency contract but also a rare brass railing (still standing at the shop’s counter) gifted by the company itself. He became their exclusive distributor in India until independence, something no easy feat for a teenager armed only with conviction and a whole lot of paint stains.

The shop's legacy was carried on by his family, with Siddhartha Laha, the third-generation owner, continuing to run it today. While the outside world went digital, G.C. Laha stayed tactile. You won’t just find supplies here — you’ll find whispers of history and splashes of nostalgia. From Pelikan inks to Staedtler pencils, from handmade drawing papers to every variety of brush you can dream of, it has everything your inner artist never knew it needed. And yet, nothing feels mass-produced or overly commercial. The shop has seen transitions — not just in products, but in people. From famed filmmakers to quiet college students, everyone walks in and pauses for a moment before they begin their hunt.

For Satyajit Ray, the store was more than a supplier — it was a partner. Whether it was picking up drawing blocks for DJ Keymer days or crafting posters for his most iconic films, Ray found in G.C. Laha the kind of dependable support most creatives only dream of. And in true Kolkata spirit, this shop offered one of the city’s earliest home deliveries. Back then, phone calls and doorstep deliveries were a thing of trust. Now, it continues — through WhatsApp and its official website — but the warmth hasn’t gone anywhere.

This quiet survivor of time doesn’t scream for attention. It doesn’t need to. From carrying Camel colours and Sulekha inks to being the go-to place for Fabriano and Daler-Rowney papers, it has kept one foot firmly in the past while carefully pacing into the present. Even today, students from nearby colleges and aspiring artists drop by for their monthly stock. And as they flip through sketchpads or test out shades, they’re unknowingly becoming part of a story over a hundred years in the making.

A Question of Time

But here’s where the brushstroke wobbles — in a city where malls rise faster than banyan trees fall, how many more years can heritage shops like G.C. Laha hold their ground? In a world sprinting towards convenience, will there still be space for places that ask you to slow down, breathe, and browse? Next time you scroll through art supplies online, ask yourself — are you just buying products, or are you missing a piece of history waiting quietly on Lenin Sarani?