‘The House the Press Built’ by Anjana Basu: Indian Press, Tagore, more...

Every house has a story but some house history. Ghosh Bari or the Press House in Allahabad (now Prayagraj) is one such where domestic goings-on intertwined with the national saga. ‘The House the Press Built’ erects the life and times of Chintamoni Ghosh and his children. The enterprise and legacy of Ghosh, founder of the Indian Press and Rabindranath Tagore’s first publisher, are well known.

But even if a reader knows about her legendary great-grandfather, author Anjana Basu crafts a memoir that stands out for its intimate glimpse into Ghosh’s large Bengali family in a sprawling house.

In 16 breezy chapters interspersed with anecdotes, history nuggets, family lore and photographs, the book traverses more than a century without being overtly nostalgic.

Basu takes the reader back to the early 20th century in the heart of the 1914-built Press House, bustling with Ghosh’s 10 children and their wives and kids. There’s the humdrum of domestic duties and fiercely observed traditions; corridors, courtyards and ceremonies; mothers, aunts and cousins; colonnaded portico and coveted gardens; kitchens run separately for sweet, savoury and non-vegetarian delicacies; pre-dawn pujas to musical soirees; royal weddings and a vibrant city that was once a beacon of learning — recreating a time long gone but embedded in the collective memory of the Ghoshs, particularly women.

The memoir deftly weaves the family strand with the larger intellectual, cultural and political fabric of its time. So, be it Saraswati, the country’s first Hindi monthly, or Tagore’s body of work, Basu intersects literary landmarks, artistic expressions and political winds of change all too well. For a reader interested in the wealth of literature published by the Indian Press and the evolution of modern Hindi literature, the book’s appendices give fascinating insights.

Basu balances the weighty history of family with an assortment of humourous episodes, involving Babus (Ghosh’s sons), maalis, khansamas and uncles, and by recounting petty rivalries between daughters-in-law and siblings. Calcutta days and ways, naturally, come alive on pages replete with how affluent Bengalis in those times lived, ate, prayed, dressed up, married, danced, sang, mourned, made cinema, picnicked and, most importantly, celebrated Durga, Kali and Saraswati pujas.

How they hosted finds special description. Basu writes how during festivals, and Magh and Kumbh melas, the Ghoshs’ hospitality was stretched to the limit; the Kumbh could fill the house’s lawns with 250-odd guests.

On regular days, the house had writers and dignitaries “flitting” in and out. Madan Mohan Malviya, Motilal Nehru, Ramananda Chattopadhyay, among others, gathered in the evenings to give company to Ghosh, who, in later years, had lost vision to a botched cataract surgery. Nehru’s Anand Bhavan, the lore says, drew architectural inspiration from Ghosh Bari.

But it is Tagore’s visit to the house that gets most attention. Tagore had given Ghosh the handwritten manuscript of ‘Gitanjali’ to be published in seven days. He brought it out in five. Moved by the feat, the poet visited the family where he sang a song from ‘Gitanjali’. Later, when Vishwa Bharati press was set up, Tagore requested back his works’ copyright, which the Indian Press held from 1903 to 1923. Ghosh agreed but for a sum of 1 rupee and two songs from the poet.

The memoir is enjoyable though certain gaps in the chronology of events may rankle a careful reader. The story arc of the house — which still stands on Prayagraj’s Malviya Road — stretches beyond Ghosh’s life, touching Partition, Independence and the transformation of a city and a way of life, making the book a sociological document as well.

— The reviewer is based in Prayagraj