While reading the latest book by Nobel laureate Amartya Sen, Home in the World-A Memoir, I found an incident or rather an experience of this great economist-researcher-academician-writer-Nobel Prize winner in 1998-Bharat Ratna winner in 1999, in relation to the owner of a bookstall that he frequented in the fifties in the famous university street area of Calcutta, then Calcutta. I was intrigued to discover that this experience bore a striking resemblance to my experience as a book stall owner in the 1970s. Well, two mandatory clarifications here: first, I have titled my article not after Sen’s great book, which means that this will not be a review, but just a story, and I am still reviewing the book which, in my view, it is of epic proportions, particularly in relation to the history, culture, economy and heritage of Bengal from the pre-partition days; and second, there can be absolutely no conceivable comparison between the living legend and this nullity, like i said, this is just a story of a resemblance which i find very funny and interesting.
Amartya Sen (his name ‘Amartya’ was given to him by the legendary Rabindra Nath Tagore), after finishing his school education at Tagore’s Santiniketan, whose liberal atmosphere definitively shaped his thinking (particularly his lifelong decision to work and research to eradicate the stark inequalities and religious division in Indian society, also influenced by the great Bengal famine of 1943 that killed almost 3 million people, and how to prevent such famines from happening again in the future, which he always considered economically plausible, citing the erroneous policies of the British during World War II), he joined the Presidency College in 1951 for his pre-university course (the current standard 11-12) in Calcutta which was under the University of Calcutta. His batchmate was Sukhamoy Chakraborty (1934-1990), one of the greatest economists of all time and who, along with PC Mahalanobis, had been a key architect in formulating India’s Five-Year Plans when he joined the Commission on Planning, after returning to India from his teaching at MIT in the US Later, Sukhamoy Chakraborty was teaching at the Delhi School of Economics as a professor of economics and during my graduate course (1979-1981) I used to look upon him with absolute admiration and amazement, although he did not take our classes according to my instructions. selected papers. Later, I was very saddened to learn of his untimely death in 1990. As avid economics students, Amartya Sen’s name was well known to us and I believe, but am not certain, that he visited School D at some point during that period. . for a reading. However, we must return to our history, because once we start talking about those times, it would go on forever.
Both young Amartya and Sukhamoy were obviously serious thinkers and bookworms. Its Presidency College was situated in the College Street area of the city and just opposite the college was the legendary Coffee House of Calcutta, where all the Bengali writers and intellectuals had their add as, having endless debates that evolved his thinking, leanings, and writing. This tradition continues even now and all Bengali intellectuals including students of course cannot help but visit Coffee House regularly. I also have the privilege of sitting in that famous indoor setting where, in addition to the add as there are also culinary delights with the inevitable cups of coffee. Outside of the cafeteria there are numerous book stalls that line the streets around where the books are selling like hot cakes and I would rather call those book sellers as book sellers because like any other book sellers they also continuously call prospective customers. to come for the book plates, a sight that perhaps cannot be found anywhere in India (in my personal experience, I never found anything like it anywhere else).
As usual, Amartya and Sukhamoy did not have enough money to buy every new book that hit the stall shelves. Sometimes one of them bought it and lent it to the other or vice versa. They also started visiting one particular book stall where the owner didn’t seem to mind that they sat there for hours reading their favorite books without making a move to buy them. So it went on, and at a crucial moment, the owner of the bookstall made the kindest of gestures, perhaps impressed by the intensity of the youngsters’ search for knowledge. He offered to lend them the prized books on the condition that the book would be with us for only one night and had to be returned the following day, in its original form and quality. The generous owner of the bookstall used to wrap the covers of the books with newspapers for the same purpose. It was a godsend for the young scholars and they took advantage of this as much as they could. Amartya Sen also recounts that another customer asked the owner of the bookstall how he managed to do business this way. The owner reportedly replied that if he did not want to manage in this way, he would have dedicated himself to more profitable businesses such as selling jewelry. This shows how books are admired and almost adored in West Bengal even now.
Cut now to my ‘casual’ part in the story. During my pre-university days also in the 1970s, to be exact during 1975-1977, in a small town called Mangaldoi (now in the Darrang district of Assam) I had been an avid student, helped greatly by a ‘simple life, high thought’. ‘Inspired family atmosphere and independent spirit. My father, a civil service officer and a writer, author, and translator, was serving in that city for the second time, and after him, the four children, particularly my younger brother and I, were literally bookworms. We had an old bike at the time and I used to go to Mangaldoi College every day which was more than two miles from our rented house. We used to get books from the district library, the university library, and other private lending sources. My father, being an honest officer, had to manage his family of six on his limited monthly salary and therefore there was not enough money to buy new books on the shelves; sometimes he bought and other times we did it saving from our meager pocket money.
I used to frequent a book stall somewhere in my locality to regularly check out new books. I sensed that the old owner of the bookstall had a very friendly face and he always smiled at me whenever he parked my bike and approached me at the counter. That perception of him encouraged me to try reading the books at the booth itself: I would usually order the book I wanted, retreat to the far end of the counter so other customers wouldn’t be harmed, and start devouring the book. book; most of the time I finish the book and return it with a friendly smile; when I don’t finish the book, a voluminous one, I go back the next day and ask for the same book, to which the generous bookseller never reacts negatively or shows his displeasure. I really enjoyed this divine opportunity to read and read new books without having to buy for months at a time in my spare time, particularly on vacation mornings. Of course, whenever I felt a little guilty, I used to reward the bookstand owner a bit by buying him a relatively cheaper book.
These generous book stall owners or vendors or even merchants exist even today, I’m sure. They are not cutthroat sellers or competitors; they live their lives and do business with their principles high. In my stay in Kolkata, I found a merchant who gave me my special items at a price below the MRP. He pleasantly surprised me and asked how he could afford to do that while most others try to charge even more than the MRP on one pretext or another. He just smiles sweetly and says that it’s very possible if you want to do it that way. We also found some others in Mumbai and Kolkata who would give away their vegetables or fruits without paying if we didn’t have the change in our pocket, saying with a smile ‘take it sir, where will you go!’ Excellent! I greet you all, as I am sure; the greats of Amartya Sen and Sukhamoy Chakraborty obviously did and do.
