My mother would often say how, as a college student in the 1980s, she aspired to travel from Jaipur to Nainital just to meet her favourite author Shivani, a pioneer in Hindi women-centric fiction, and whose books have had a sizeable presence at our home. A simple wish, yet reflecting a palpable distance that existed between a writer and a reader; only if she had wished the same years later when the stars of the literary world descend each year in the same city from where she had wished to travel to meet her favourite author.
In 2025, Nobel laureate Abhijit Banerjee, who has written the cookbook Chhaunk: On Food, Economics and Society, stands ahead of me, holding a plate, in a queue for a heritage evening dinner buffet held at Amer Fort in the backdrop of the Jaipur Literature Festival in February. There were several award-winning writers in the queue―all here to attend the JLF. At the centre of the venue, writer-filmmaker Imtiaz Ali is seen surrounded by fans, while Venki Ramakrishnan, the Nobel Prize-winning biologist and author of Why We Die: The New Science of Aging and The Quest for Immortality, interacts with a young fan before obliging for a selfie. “This is such an equaliser,” says a person standing in the queue, as one cannot help but acknowledge how literature festivals across India have bridged the gap that existed between writers and readers.
A PLACE CALLED NEEMRANA
The JLF, which began in 2006 with around 18 speakers and some 100 attendees, has grown to become the Mahakumbh of literature and has inspired many lit fests across India. However, it all started not in Jaipur, but 150km away in a small historical town called Neemrana, when in 2002, the then BJP government led by Atal Bihari Vajpayee geared to celebrate the 2001 Nobel Prize win of writer V.S. Naipaul.
Books and more: The crowd cheers at the inauguration of the Apeejay Kolkata Literary Festival.
Offering India its first tryst with lit fests, the International Festival of Indian Literature brought together the likes of Naipaul, Amitav Ghosh, Vikram Seth, Khushwant Singh, Sunil Gangopadhyay, Hanif Kureishi and Nayantara Sahgal. In a fiery exchange, Naipaul cut short Sahgal’s discourse on colonialism, saying, “I can’t listen to banalities. This thing about colonialism, gender oppression wearies me.”
India’s litscape has evolved drastically since then.
A MATTER OF ACCIDENT
“We started off by accident,” says Sanjoy K. Roy, managing director of Teamwork Arts, which produces the JLF. “In the early 2000s, William (Dalrymple) and Namita (Gokhle) used to run a literature programme at the now-discontinued Jaipur Heritage Festival. And as that fest wasn’t going anywhere, I was asked to take it over. I was less enthusiastic about taking over the entire festival, so we split the literature programme and made what is today known as the Jaipur Literature Festival. When we took it over, it was seen as a very exclusive fest. And we were very clear about one thing that we wanted it to be more accessible, so there is no reserved seating.”
A fun moment from the Kokrajhar Literary Festival.
Having started much smaller, the JLF exploded on the international scene in 2012 with the participation of Oprah Winfrey and the cancelled video appearance of Salman Rushdie over protests by Muslims. “The world’s press arrived and took us to the world,” recalls Roy.
Having grown in size―“per hour, we have about 18,000 to 19,000 visitors,” says Roy―and thus warranting ticketing and a change in venue from a smaller Diggi Palace to a much larger Hotel Clarks Amer, JLF’s evolution is an indication of India’s appetite for such events. The mushrooming of literature festivals―from Kolkata, Chennai, Bengaluru, Delhi and Kozhikode to Kokrajhar, Shillong, Dehradun, Bhubaneswar, Puducherry, Nainital, Bhopal and Benares―is another one.
KASHMIR TO KANYAKUMARI VIA LITERATURE
While Jaipur has grown to present literature with a dash of glamour and performance, emerging lit fests, especially in smaller cities and towns, are seen as more intimate and refreshing, offering regional writers a platform at the same time. For example, the Kerala Literature Festival held in Kozhikode in January was equally appreciated for the inviting beach where it was held, as for an eclectic mix of regional and international writers, from Booker Prize winners Jenny Erpenbeck and Paul Lynch to poet K. Satchidanandan and writer Sheela Tomy.
(from left) Assamese author and translator Mitra Phukan with singer-sngwriter Amabel Susngi, author Sebanti Chatterjee and co-director of the Brahmaputra Literature Fest Mary Therese Kurkalang.
“I recently went to a very nice lit fest in Nainital called Himalayan Echoes. It is not of the size of the JLF, but I liked the intimacy of it with 25-30 people in each session, so you can actually have a conversation,” says former diplomat and author Vikas Swarup.
Keeping it “intimate and focused” is a “distinct feature” of the Apeejay Kolkata Literary Festival, too, says festival director Anjum Katyal. And to ensure that, “we have stayed away from parallel or overlapping sessions at the same venue, unlike many other festivals,” she adds.
“We are the only lit fest that focuses on Indian languages,” says Rashmi Ranjan Parida, founder and president of the Kalinga Literary Festival, whose 11th edition will take place in Bhubaneshwar from May 21 to 23. Like the JLF, which has had international editions in the US, the UK, and Spain, the Kalinga Literature Festival, too, has expanded to Nepal with a Kathmandu edition. “We are planning to hold editions in Colombo and Bali, too, as Odiyas have trade and civilisational relationships with all three,” says Parida.
The northeast, too, is seeing a rise in lit fests, with multiple events often happening at the same time.
A slice of beach life: Chef Park Hyeonju enjoying her time at the Manorama Hortus lit fest, held at Kozhikode. She led a Korean culinary workshop at the lit fest, which went beyond literature to include art exhibitions, gaming, music and more | Fahad Muneer
“As we speak, there is a lit fest happening in Dibrugarh as well,” says Assamese author and translator Mitra Phukan during the Brahmaputra Literature Fest held from February 6 to 8 at the World Book Fair in New Delhi. The writer, who had recently attended fests in Shillong, Tezpur, and Itanagar, adds “I haven’t said yes to all the offers because there was no time.”
Hailing from Meghalaya and working in the publishing industry, “I could see a gap between the industry and the northeast. And so, we curated the festival in a way so as to connect with the books market,” says Mary Therese Kurkalang, festival co-director, Brahmaputra Literature Fest, who adds that the next edition would happen in Assam.
While Kurkalang saw a gap, the publishing industry, too, is showing interest. The second edition of the White Owl Literature Festival & Book Fair, presented by Penguin, saw significant growth since its debut last year with “book sales having doubled, the fest expanding from two days to three, and the number of speakers increasing to 60 from 40,” says Peter Modoli, the festival’s co-director and associate vice president–local and international marketing and publicity at Penguin. Speaking about the idea behind the fest, he says, “We noticed that no other publisher was actively investing in building readership in the region. That is when we connected with The White Owl, an independent bookshop and literary community in Nagaland dedicated to promoting books and fostering a reading culture. The festival gives Penguin the opportunity to engage directly with northeast readers while also introducing local authors to a wider audience.”
The White Owl Literature Festival & Book Fair; (right) Peter Modoli
While Kerala witnesses several literary festivals, distinct among them is the Manorama Hortus by the Malayala Manorama. “While literature is a big part of it, we go beyond it and have art exhibitions, gaming, music. While the space has become largely formulaic, this diversity makes us distinct,” says Malayala Manorama executive editor Jayant Mammen Mathew.
Apart from city- and region-centric fests, several niche lit fests are also taking shape, such as the Rainbow Lit Fest for queers, Green Lit Fest on environment fiction, Neev Literature Festival for children and Crime Literature Festival. According to some estimates, there are about 300 lit fests across India’s big and small cities and towns.
“It is a strange trend. At one point, we saw a flurry of lit fests before some of the established ones disappeared right before or during Covid. However, once again, we are seeing a similar rise, with even universities holding lit fests of their own,” says Sharif D. Rangnekar, director of Rainbow Lit Fest in Delhi.
Speaking on the importance of niche fests when the bigger ones already hold discussions on similar themes, Rangnekar adds, “At most fests, it is merely about ticking the box. At the same time, we deal with a wide range of subjects, such as public policy, law, politics, family, love, choice, patriarchy and existing power structures. While at most list fests, you hear the same voices, of those who already have the access and are privileged in several ways such as in terms of caste and language, we present a variety of voices across sections.”
A CROWDED SPACE FOR EXPRESSION
While such a spurt in literature festivals also generate intense competition to get big names, most festival directors believe it is a good trend. “I think, India will be better off if we have a lit fest in every city, town and village,” says Roy. “We have so many local writers, and these events offer them a space and position.”
At a session at JLF, Shahu Patole, author of Anna He Apoorna Brahma in Marathi and translated to English as Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada, talks about how the assault of caste even pierces through and shapes one’s food, “Even to this day, I don’t like the smell of ghee,” he says. The audience was left surprised. “My book was considered a joke by the Marathi people. They didn’t take it seriously. But now in English, that joke is being taken seriously,” Patole tells THE WEEK, reflecting on the importance of translations and how lit fests are offering spaces to writers to reach new readers and hence transcending the language barrier.
“Translations are much more important now than they used to be,” says Phukan, who moderated a session on translations at JLF 2025.
According to Kurkalang, so many lit fests, especially in smaller cities and towns, have an even deeper purpose. “In Meghalaya, I see a complete lack of bookstores and libraries. While being in cities, we think so much is happening, as we go into smaller towns, we realise so little is happening there. It is here where lit fests become spaces for people to read, interact with stories and literature, and get inspired,” she says.
Such has been the case with a young writer Saksham Garg, the author of Samsara, on whom the cancelled video address of Rushie at the JLF in 2012 has had a deep impact. “I live wall-to-wall with Diggi Palace and when that happened, the silence and chaos extended even to my home. It hit me like a truck that this man―Salman Rushdie―has been able to create what he has with the power of what he wrote,” says Garg, who attended the festival then as a school intern.
According to Swarup, the author of Q&A that was adapted into the Oscar-winning film Slumdog Millionaire, while lit fests are important as they provide a platform for writers and readers to engage purposefully―“otherwise how would they meet?”―the mushrooming of lit fests is an issue.
“There has to be some rationalisation on quality over quantity,” says Swarup. He further highlights how the sheer size of an event can undo the basic idea behind a lit fest, which is to bring the writers and readers together. “At a large lit fest, there is a big wall between a writer and a reader. The writer is taken to the green room, then to the stage, and then is ushered right back to the green room. What is left are mere 10-15 minutes when the author is signing copies. For the likes of JLF and Bangalore Lit Fest, while I do understand the logistical challenges if the writers freely mingle, at the same time, you need to find a balance,” he says.
TOO MANY LIT FESTS, TOO LITTLE FUNDS
While a rise in the number of lit fests every year showcases much enthusiasm in the space, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the going is easy, especially when it comes to finances. With most of these being non-ticketed events, or carrying a small fee, most rely on corporate sponsors. The JLF has faced continued flak for being sponsored by Vedanta, which has been accused of several environmental violations.
Corporate sponsorship can be a double-edged sword in more ways than one. In 2020, the Mumbai Lit Fest courted controversy after it abruptly cancelled a discussion between Noam Chomsky and journalist Vijay Prashad. In a statement, the duo stated that they had planned to talk about how governments such as that run by the BJP and corporations such as the Tata Group were “hastening humanity towards a deeper and deeper crisis”. Notably, the Tata Group was the main sponsor of the event.
The Mumbai edition of the Times Literary Festival in 2019 was called off and The Hindu Lit for Life scheduled for January 2020 was postponed due to lack of sponsors, as per media reports.
While funding doesn’t come easy for bigger events, it is tougher for the smaller ones.
“In eastern India, it is very difficult to raise funds,” says Parida of the Kalinga Lit Fest. “But we are looking at monetising, such as starting this year, we will be charging people Rs1,000 for [attending] performances,” he says, adding that the festival is a community-driven initiative with participation from readers, writers and even universities.
It is even tougher for the niche ones such as the Rainbow Lit Fest. “Money is very difficult to get as we are not seen as a market by companies, as a group of people consuming a particular product on a consistent basis. So that becomes a challenge as companies prefer spending money in June during the Pride Month, as they see a better chance of returns,” says Rangnekar. “Getting the money and making it sustainable is tough, and it is going to be even more challenging this year with the economy slowing down and (US President) Donald Trump’s DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) policy.”
According to Swarup, “lit fests have their utility, especially for the publishers because, as the saying goes, ‘Any fool can write a book, it takes a genius to sell one.’ Genius is now in selling the book, bringing that visibility in such a crowded field. And that’s why publishers also encourage writers to go to lit fests because it has so many readers and will allow them to platform books.”
WHAT’S IN STORE FOR PUBLISHERS, BOOKSTORES?
Crossword Bookstores’ tent at the JLF was often jam-packed. “The response this year was 30 per cent better than last year with William Dalrymple, Prajakta Kohli and Javed Akthar being among some of the top-selling authors,” says MD & CEO Aakash Gupta. “While we don’t necessarily see a direct impact at our store traffic during festivals, but yes if there is trending news about a book or an author due to a festival, we do see some buzz for the particular book at our stores, too.”
Says Akriti Tyagi, marketing & corporate communications, HarperCollins: “Books such as Thomas Mathew’s Ratan Tata: A Life, Rajdeep Sardesai’s 2024: The Elections That Surprised India, and the festival darling this year―Prajakta Koli’s debut novel Too Good To Be True―saw significant spikes in sales after their respective festival appearance, while poetry collections and translations have benefited from festivals with a more niche, discerning audience. The festival programming and consequent author visits help drive category sales.”
Both sales and the buzz are important here, as the impact of the fests isn’t just short-term. “We track post-festival sales data―both online and offline―to gauge how discussions at these events drive long-term book discoverability. Many titles experience a second wave of interest weeks after a festival, particularly when supported by strong digital marketing and media coverage,” says Tyagi.
Pallavi Narayan, general manager-corporate communications, Penguin Random House India, says that for publishers, “these festivals open doors to regional markets”.
And the growth of literature festivals in smaller cities and towns―Goa Book Fair, Kumaon Literary Festival, Vidarbha Literature Festival, Dehradun Literature Festival, Nainital Lit Fest, Mysore Lit Fest, PragatiE Vichar Lit Fest and Koshala Lit Fest―cannot come at a better time. “These are critical for market expansion, bringing first-time readers into literary conversations and increasing demand for regional and bilingual books. They also allow us to identify emerging literary voices and explore deeper engagement with local readers through libraries, universities and cultural organisations,” says Tyagi.
Crossword’s Gupta has a word of caution: “While the trend is a very encouraging sign for books and reading in general, not all festivals are successful. Hence, we pick and choose which festivals to partner with.”
A bigger question arises: In the times of social media and reduced attention spans, have lit fests been able to make the old-world charm of reading trendy? “While we have not seen a direct correlation between lit fests and growth of bookstores in cities with lit fests, they do help with creating a buzz around reading books,” says Gupta.
They also accord discoverability. “Many come to Jaipur often not knowing who is speaking. But when they attend, they stumble upon an idea, and leave saying, ‘Wow! I had no idea,’” says Roy.