As you read 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-academic-writer-winner of the Nobel Prize in 1998-winner of Bharat Ratna in 1999, concerning a book stall owner that he frequented in the fifties in the famous Kolkata university street, then Calcutta. I was captivated to find that this experience was very similar to my experience as a book stand 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 that, in my view, is from epic proportions, particularly in relation to Bengal’s history, culture, economy and heritage from the pre-partition days; And secondly, there can be absolutely no imaginable comparison between the living legend and this non-entity, as I said, this is just a story of a resemblance that I find very funny and interesting.
Amartya Sen (her name ‘Amartya’ was given by the legendary Rabindra Nath Tagore), after finishing her school education at the Santiniketan de Tagore, whose liberal atmosphere gave a definite shape to her thinking (particularly her lifelong determination to work and research to eradicate the marked inequalities and religious divisions in Indian society, also influenced by the great Bengal famine of 1943 that killed almost 3 million people, and how to prevent the reappearance of such famines in the future, which it always considered economically plausible, citing the flawed WWII policies of the British), he joined Presidency College in 1951 for his pre-university course (the current standard 11-12) in Calcutta which was under Calcutta University. His lotmate 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 the Five Year Plans of India when he joined the Commission for 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 gaze at him with utter admiration and amazement, though I was not taking our classes based on my selected jobs. Later, I was very saddened to learn of her untimely demise in 1990. As avid economics students, we were very familiar with the name Amartya Sen, and I believe, although I am not sure, that she visited School D at some point during that period. for a conference. However, we must go back to our history, because once we start talking about those times, it would be forever.
Both young Amartya and Sukhamoy were obviously serious thinkers and bookworms. His Presidency College was located in the College Street area of the city and directly opposite the university was the legendary Coffee House of Calcutta, where all Bengali writers and intellectuals had their Add as, having endless debates that developed his thinking, inclinations and writing. This tradition continues even now and all Bengali intellectuals, including students, of course, cannot help but visit the Coffee House regularly. I also have the privilege of sitting in those famous indoor surroundings where, in addition to the Add as There are also culinary delights with the inevitable cups of coffee. Outside of the cafeteria are the numerous bookstands that line the lanes around where books sell like hotcakes and I would rather call those booksellers booksellers, because like any other vendor, they, too, continually call on potential customers. to come and look for the book-plates, a sight that perhaps cannot be found anywhere in India (in my personal experience, I have never found anything similar anywhere).
As usual, Amartya and Sukhamoy didn’t have enough money to buy all the new books that hit the stall shelves. Sometimes one of them bought it and loaned it to the other or vice versa. They also started visiting a particular book stall where the owner didn’t seem to mind that they sat there for hours reading their favorite books without making any moves to buy them. So he went on, and at a crucial moment, the owner of the book stand made the kindest of gestures, perhaps impressed by the intensity of the youth’s search for knowledge. He offered to lend them the precious books on the condition that the book be slow for one night only and had to be returned the next day, in its original form and quality. The generous owner of the book stand used to wrap the covers of the books with newspapers for the same purpose. It was a blessing to the young scholars and they took advantage of this as much as they were able to do. Amartya Sen also recounts that another customer asked the owner of the book stand how he managed to do business in this way. The owner was reported to have responded that if he did not want to manage that way, he would have opted for 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 “coincident” part in the story. During my pre-university days also in the seventies, 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 a lot by a ‘simple living high thought ‘Inspired family atmosphere and independent spirit. My father, a civil servant and writer, author and translator, was serving in that city for the second time, and after him, all four of us, particularly my younger brother and I, were literally bookworms. This time we had an old bicycle and I used to go daily to Mangaldoi College 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 loan sources. Since my father was an honest officer, he had to lead his family of six on his limited monthly salary, and therefore there simply wasn’t enough money to buy newcomers on the shelves; sometimes I would shop and other times we did it saving from our meager pocket money.
I used to go to a book stand somewhere in my town to regularly check out new books. I felt that the elderly owner of the book stand had a very friendly face and would always smile at me whenever I parked my bike and approached the counter. That perception about him encouraged me to try reading the books at the booth: I would normally order the book I wanted, retreat to the far corner of the counter so other customers wouldn’t be put at a disadvantage, and start devouring the book. book; most of the time I finish the book and return it with a friendly smile; When I can’t finish the voluminous book in one sitting, I go back the next day and order the same book that the generous owner of the book stand never reacts negatively or shows displeasure. I really enjoyed this wonderful opportunity to read and read new books without having to shop for months in my spare time, particularly on vacation mornings. Of course, whenever I felt a little guilty, I used to reward the book stand owner a little by buying a relatively cheaper book.
I am sure there are such generous book stall owners or vendors or even merchants even today. They are not fierce competitors or salespeople; they live their lives and do business with their high principles. During my stay in Kolkata I found a merchant who gave me my special items at a lower price than the MRP. I was pleasantly surprised and asked how he could afford to do that, while most of the others try to charge even more than MRP under one pretext or another. He just smiles sweetly and says it’s very possible if you want to do it that way. We also found some others in Mumbai and Calcutta who give away their vegetables or fruits without payment if we did not have the change in our pocket, saying with a smile ‘take it sir, where will you go?’ Great! I greet you all, as I am sure; the greats of Amartya Sen and Sukhamoy Chakraborty obviously did and do.