In 1998, former President K. R. Narayanan decided to confer the Bharat Ratna on a non-political personality. He chose M.S. Subbulakshmi for the honour. When he sought to inform Prime Minister I.K. Gujral, the PM suggested another name. Predictably, it was Lata Mangeshkar.
However, the President told him that Lata could receive the honour the following year, and the decision was finalised. When Narayanan called Subbulakshmi to convey the news, he realised she did not quite understand what the award was. He then asked his secretary, Prof. Gopalkrishna Gandhi, a fluent Tamil speaker, to explain the honour to her in Tamil. Even then, she grasped little. But by the time of the award ceremony, she understood what the Bharat Ratna meant.
A year before, another Tamilian got Bharata Ratna and he too attended the award function to receive the honour. Both awardees sat next to each other and spoke in Tamil. The awards were presented, and once again they resumed their conversation. At one point, Subbulakshmi called Prof. Gandhi, and asked him in a low voice, “Tell me, who is the person that has been talking to me?” “Such a brilliant singer who remembered any number of notes, yet she was a pure personification of innocence in other matters. Ladies and gentlemen, she was the forever nightingale of India, and he was the future President of India — A.P.J. Abdul Kalam,” Prof. Gandhi later recalled.
The hall erupted in applause. Prof. Gandhi was narrating the episode while discussing his recent book India and Her Many Futures at a session of the Hyderabad Literary Festival, held from January 24 to 26. He went on to speak about the Nehru–Patel relationship, Patel’s unflinching support for “his leader Nehru”, the universal affection commanded by the former and the confidence inspired by the latter. The conversation ranged across political, cultural and literary questions.
Back to his book, Prof. Vijay Kumar Tadakamalla, moderator of the session and director of HLF, asked Prof. Gandhi why he devoted his introduction to explaining the genre of the book. Prof. Gandhi replied that his introduction was like an alap, the melodic opening in classical music. “If you like my alap, you can continue reading the book. Otherwise, you can say, ‘Bye-bye Gandhi’ and go away,” he said with a smile.
With the HLF venue overflowing with youngsters, including school students, it was evident that they had taken to the festival’s alap. Experts from across the country discussed dozens of subjects under more than 15 themes — literature, politics, culture, environment, gender, STEM, architecture, religion, handicrafts, history, cinema, law and endangered languages. The sublime spread of topics catered to the varied interests of Gen Z.
“We started the festival as a single-day event in one hall 16 years ago, and we have come a long way. Today, we have about 1,50,000 participants,” said a visibly delighted Amita Desai, founder-director of the festival. With every passing year, the crowd has been getting younger. This year, more than 50,000 audience members were under 30. She was particularly pleased with the participation of school students. “Teenagers sitting through sessions on conservation and animal protection — that was clearly something,” she said.
P. Sriramani, a recent law graduate, agreed. “What I like about HLF is that you can hear experts speak on a wide range of topics. You won’t get this range anywhere else,” she said. “For instance, I attended a panel discussion on mysterious murders and later a lecture on economics by Nobel Prize winner Abhijit Banerjee.” Talking about the range of discussions, Desai described HLF as a festival of life and letters. Probably nothing falls outside its scope — even judicial efficiency.
In a session on [In]Complete Justice? Supreme Court at 75, editor of the book and former High Court judge S. Muralidhar spoke about the limitations confronting the judiciary. His tone was not sombre but analytical. When the moderator asked whether it was appropriate to appoint BJP women leaders as judges in the Bombay and Madras High Courts, Muralidhar said it was acceptable as long as judges with other ideological positions were also appointed. “It becomes problematic if appointments are made to keep out judges with other ideologies,” he said.
The sessions were not merely serious or academic; they were also infused with wit and humour. Farida Tampal, Telangana director of WWF-India, while moderating a session on conservation stories, recalled how her first job at the Madras Crocodile Bank had initially made her family happy — and later unhappy. “I am from Mumbai. Many of my family members and relatives were in banking. They were happy that I got a position in an ‘international bank’. But they were not so happy when they found out that I was going to research reptiles,” she recalled, drawing laughter from the audience. When wildlife biologist Ravi Chellam was asked about spending time with Gir lions during his PhD, he urged the audience never to attempt it. “I was young, unmarried, careless and spent my time with lions. Any one of them could have killed me with a single leap. They just didn’t. I request you not to go close to lions,” he cautioned, to an amused audience. His shadow could be seen in a photograph where a pride of the Gir lions rested nearby.
If one moved beyond wit and knowledge, the conversations occasionally turned philosophical. This was evident during a session on the “Universals of Dance” conducted by Jayachandran Surendran, a faculty member at the Centre for Exact Humanities at IIIT Hyderabad. He began with the premise that, like music and other arts, dance too must have style-neutral universals. He explained the difference between “postures” — basic positions — and “transformations”, the rhythmic movements that differentiate dance forms. While postures may be common across styles, transformations separate one form from another. He emphasised the importance of teaching these universal postures before inducting students into specific dance traditions. “It is unethical to induct children into a particular dance form because they continue to believe they are dedicating their lives only to Bharatanatyam or Kathakali or Mohiniattam,” he said.
From laughter and learning, the festival also moved towards introspection when Nobel Prize-winning economist Abhijit Banerjee spoke on society and economics. Regarding affirmative action, merit and reservation, he stated that India chose affirmative action to rectify historical injustices accumulated over thousands of years. When an audience member asked why there was increasing pushback against reservations, Banerjee pointed to the dwindling availability of decent jobs for the middle class. “This is not just a public sector issue. The private sector is also responsible,” he explained. He also addressed the question of why poorer families spend more on marriages, often mimicking the rich, but hesitate to invest similarly in education and health. “It is easy to spend money,” Banerjee said. “Education requires sustained parental effort along with money. Health also requires a certain sophistication. Spending on a marriage is the simplest thing to do.”
The participation of over 300 experts from India and abroad made this exchange of ideas both vibrant and meaningful. To ensure the seamless conduct of dozens of sessions, the HLF team worked with close coordination and textbook precision. Amita Desai said she closes the Goethe-Zentrum — the institution she heads — around Christmas and converts it into the festival’s operational office. “All my staff work for this festival, and we have only one paid employee for the entire event,” she said. The entire venue was provided free of cost, added Masiuddin Ahmed, an organising committee member, pointing to the sprawling Sattva Knowledge City located in the heart of Hitec City, Hyderabad’s ritzy IT district.
The state-of-the-art IT park, spread over 30 acres, is more than any event organiser could ask for. Its spacious buildings, multiple halls, more than 25 eateries and essential amenities ensured the smooth conduct of events. The space, Masiuddin said, was a major reason for the festival’s lively vibe. Space utilisation was also done creatively. For instance, District150, a resto-bar and corporate meeting space, hosted several sessions each day. Large lobby areas were repurposed into event halls using temporary partitions.
Participants enjoyed the festival without worry, as the expansive campus also offered a sense of protection and freedom. The HLF’s judgment-free ethos further reinforced this atmosphere. A queer man walking past in a female dress might draw curious glances, but they hardly care since they know it is their space as much as others. This safe space hosted sessions not only on queer cinema and identity but also on Kashmir’s identity, history and weaving traditions — subjects that rarely find space in today’s mainstream discourse.
As the festival grew, it also attracted unconventional partners. Aadyam, an Aditya Birla Group initiative working to revive Indian weaving traditions, exhibited Kashmiri shawls and participated in panel discussions. “Hyderabad Runners, a running club from the city, insisted on partnering this year. They held a panel discussion on the importance of running and jogging in improving our health,” Desai said.
That all events were open and free of cost added to the festival’s appeal. “We neither sell tickets nor front-row seats,” she said. The festival also witnessed enthusiastic book sales, with readers queuing up to get copies signed by renowned authors.
The HLF concluded with a valedictory ceremony named after Ajay Gandhi, the chartered accountant who founded Manthan, Hyderabad’s foremost discussion forum, and played a key role in building the festival from scratch. At the session, Bhaktiyar K. Dadabhoy and Prof. Gopalkrishna Gandhi discussed the latter’s recent book Undying Light: A Personal History of Independent India. Though several anecdotes were serious and informative, Prof. Gandhi captivated the audience with lighter moments.
One such instance was when Jawaharlal Nehru once probed Prof. Gandhi’s sporting habits after seeing him as a chubby boy. “I was chubbier than I am now. We were on an old lift that made creaking sounds. I was chubbier than I am now. Nehru gave me a disapproving look and asked if I played any games at all. I panicked and wanted to bluff, so I told him that I regularly play football. He poked my round belly and said, ‘Look at this belly. It looks like a football. You want me to believe you play football, uhh?” Prof. Gandhi narrated. The amphitheatre bursts into laughter.
