This book tells the story of Chintamoni Ghosh, founder of Indian Press, who published Tagore
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For those who grew up in the house, childhood was a blissful experience. The joy of living in a joint family came from the sense of security it provided – a feeling of never being alone, with loved ones always nearby, ready with a treat, a hug or a scolding, depending on the situation. The house was like a box of sweets, brimming with affectionate relatives: a myriad of paternal uncles and aunts (kakas, jethas and pishimas) and the equally cherished maternal uncles and aunts (mamas and mashis). They had endearing nicknames like Chocolate Pishi, Achaar Didu (the granny who crafted tangy chutneys), Ghuri Jethu (the uncle who could magically fish out a kite when needed), Kola Jethu (whose favourite fruit was the banana, though that liking was not necessarily shared by the children), and Hyaath Jethu (perhaps today’s equivalent would be the uncle who takes the children out for a treat to the nearest Hyatt).
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Chintamoni Ghosh had the quirky habit of nicknaming his sons after vegetables. So the boys were called Potol, Mulo and Bhushi instead of their formal names, and only later was a “Babu” attached to each name to make business relationships sound more polite.
Though renowned as...