From a street cart to a sandesh legacy: The 180-year-old journey of Girish Ch. Dey & Nakur Ch. Nandy

Sandesh of the mid-19th century

According to Nandy, when the shop first began in 1844, there was only one type of sandesh called kora paker munda, commonly known as guli sandesh. It was the purest form of chhena (curdled milk), and that was essentially all that was sold, priced for just a few annas. Then came the Kora paker jolbhora, which remains a favourite among sandesh lovers to this day. With a hard exterior and bigger in size than guli sandesh, it was a step up from the original. Next emerged the norom paker sandesh, where kora meant hard and norom meant soft — indicating a melt-in-your-mouth texture.

A tray of freshly made sandesh (Express photo by Nikita Mohta)

When asked how his memory of the sandesh evolution is so vivid, Projesh explains that all his relatives were confectioners, and that’s what he grew up hearing about. In 19th-century Bengal, caste was deeply entrenched in upper-class Bengali families. “A moira (confectioner) would only marry another moira. It’s no surprise, then, that many of the sweet shops in the city are related to us — Bhim Nag is my father’s maternal family, and Balaram Mullick is owned by my maternal grandparents.” Laughing with embarrassment, he adds, “Times are changing now. I just got married, and it was a shock to most that my wife’s family isn’t made up of moiras.”

Most of Projesh’s family, including his father and second uncle, have died, so much of his recollection comes from the stories he heard from his grandfather as a child. While he knows little about the store’s operations during the political upheavals of colonial Bengal, he speaks with certainty about one thing: “The store persisted; sandesh was never forgotten in Bengal.”

New sandesh for a new nation

While much remained unchanged for Girish Ch Dey & Nakur Ch Nandy during colonial rule, things took a turn in post-independence India. The 1960s, in particular, were a turbulent decade. “The Naxal uprisings led to numerous protests on Ramdulal Sarkar Street. It was during this time that the green iron gates protecting our front counter were first installed, to shield our staff from any unrest.”

Iron gated Girish Ch Dey & Nakur Ch Nandy store on Ramdulal Sarkar Street (Express photo by Nikita Mohta)

However, it was another episode that caused the most havoc for the store. On August 23, 1965, the Congress-led government in Bengal imposed a blanket ban on the production of chhena-based sweets. Chief Minister Prafulla Chandra Sen addressed the public on radio, explaining the necessity of this drastic measure — West Bengal’s milk production was a mere 3 ounces per capita. “That episode hit our operations the hardest,” Projesh recalls. “My grandfather would tell me the store remained shut for months.”

Despite the challenges, the store persevered and went on to redefine what sandesh meant for Bengal. “My second uncle, Prashant Nandy, introduced varieties of sandesh like never before,” These include kacha gola, almond sandesh, mousambi (sweet lime) sandesh, and even Sourav Ganguly-Sachin Tendulkar sandesh. When asked about the latter, he says, “It’s an ode to the players.”

He adds, “My uncle often wondered why something as iconic as the kathi roll couldn’t be replicated in sandesh.” This led to the creation of the famous malai roll sandesh, which is now among the most expensive sandesh varieties. “Similarly, my father came up with the singara (samosa) sandesh!” he exclaims.

Sixth generation and onwards

“I may be running a 180-year-old shop, but our principles remain much the same,” says Projesh. Explaining what has stayed the same and what has changed, he emphasises that quality is the brand’s foremost priority. Unlike most shops that outsource their chhena, Girish Ch Dey & Nakur Ch Nandy make their own. “This is why our sandesh doesn’t have a long shelf life.” According to Projesh, sandesh was never meant to last for days — it was designed to be light on the stomach and best enjoyed fresh. With a hint of regret, he adds, “Today, stores add large amounts of sugar to sandesh to extend its shelf life, which only masks the natural sweetness of the chhena.”

However, he expresses concern over the declining quality of other ingredients, like jaggery, which they source from elsewhere. “The quality we used to get was unmatched. Customers would say that passengers travelling on the Hedua tram line, just a neighborhood away, could smell Nakur’s jaggery sandesh in the winter air. That’s not the case anymore.” He says that today’s farmers, unable to meet rising demand, often compromise on quality.

Yet, he remains steadfast. “We’re not on any food delivery platforms. They charge 20-25% in service fees and often ruin our soft sandesh during delivery. I’m content with my sales and will never compromise on quality.”

List of awards received by Girish & Nakur (Express photo by Nikita Mohta)

He explains that their commitment to quality is reflected in the fact that the store does not have multiple branches, and sandesh is the only sweet they sell. “Every shop on this street has expanded from sandesh to a variety of other sweets, both wet and dry. But we’ve chosen to stick to what we know best and excel at it.” Girsh & Nakur offer over 60 varieties of sandesh today, striving to cater to every palate — from chocolate and butterscotch to winter favourites like jaggery, strawberry, and pineapple.

Customers from near and far flock to the store for its beloved Jolbhora sandesh. “When I was just six or seven, I was once left in charge of the counter while my uncles and father were at the back, making fresh sandesh after it had sold out. That was the demand, and it continues to be so,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. The Nandy family still runs the store, and the sweets are crafted by the hands of dedicated staff, many of whom are third-generation workers.

“What’s unique to Bengal is that sweets are a part of every occasion — both happy and sad. While technology, language, fashion, books, and cinema may evolve, sandesh and the love for it will never fade in Bengal,” Nandy remarks.

He pauses for a moment and adds, “As a traditionalist, though, I sometimes wonder — why would anyone eat a butterscotch sandesh? Sandesh is pure chhena sandesh, nothing else.”