Katha-O-Kahini and Me

I intend to soon write about some of the books Baba published—the experience of reading the manuscript, proof reading these under Baba’s tutelage, checking and rechecking to see that I have not missed out a single comma before sending it for composing. (I think I forgot to mention in the first post that Baba did not only start Katha-O-Kahini but also a publishing company called Chirayat.) This was in the days when composing was done by hand. Our composer Kaku would painstakingly put in one type at a time, selecting these from pigeonholed wooden crates that were stacked in neat piles one atop the other. Then, once the page was set, he would roll ink over the whole thing and pass a role of paper on which this would get printed.

I was an incorrigible chatter box and would keep up a non-stop patter asking Kaku all kinds of questions ranging from what would happen if I did not put in one type but another and insisting that I could also set the types. I was about seven or eight and I can still see the loving exasperation on kaku’s face till driven to the limits of his patience, he would call Baba and ask him to take me and Cat away. Cat would try to climb up the stacks of wooden crates and rummage among the top most crates looking for the stray, recalcitrant mice. Since the typing room was located at the back of the house, Cat was not mistaken about the existence of mice and even a few largish rats. I could never understand why Kaku did not appreciate Cat’s effort to reduce the mice population from his territory. He would tell Baba in an agitated voice, “Kalyan Babu, kichu mone koren naa. Apnar meyeta bokey bokey amar sab typing guliye dilo. Aar or oi beralta opore uthey, ei bakshor type otey phelchey ar oi bakshor etey. Ki mushkil bolen to. Ami “Ko” money korey tuley dekhi “Mo.” Translating it in brief: “Kalyan babu, don’t mind if I say this. Your daughter has been jabbering non-stop and has completely confounded my typing. And that cat of her’s has climbed on top of my type crates and is scrabbling there for rats. In the process, spilling one type font into another and mixing them all up. What do I do? (This last question was usually a distressed wail.)

This is a prelude to the publishing experience Baba introduced me to. Will write about that some day.