In a historic first, 77-year-old Kannada writer, journalist, activist and lawyer Banu Mushtaq won the 2025 International Booker Prize for her short story collection Heart Lamp—a translation of 12 powerful stories rooted in the lived realities of marginalised women. This was the first time the Booker had been awarded to a collection of short stories rather than a novel, and the first time a Kannada work had not only made the shortlist but clinched the prestigious prize.
Born in Hassan, Karnataka, into a Muslim family, Banu’s early life bore the mark of struggle and resilience. At eight, she was shifted to a Kannada-medium convent school in Shivamogga after failing to grasp Urdu. The nuns admitted her to grade 1, doubtful whether she would keep pace. Within six months, she proved them wrong, mastering Kannada so quickly that she received double promotions until she caught up with her peers in grade 4.
This persistence shaped her journey—becoming a lawyer, marrying her college senior Mohiyuddin Mushtaq, working as a journalist under the legendary editor P. Lankesh, and immersing herself in the progressive Bandaya Sahitya movement. Her activism brought her close to marginalised women, while her legal practice offered raw insight into injustice—insights that germinated into fiercely honest fiction.
As she brought home the Booker, the euphoria was palpable in Bengaluru. On May 28, Banu got a grand welcome at Kempegowda International Airport. Drummers performing Dollu Kunita, artists enacting Yakshagana, shawls, flowers and flashing cameras greeted her. But even before TV channels could swarm her, two women journalists whisked her away to Gandhi Bhavan for her first felicitation back home—with a quick stop for steaming idlis and sambhar along the way.
At Gandhi Bhavan, Banu was among her own—writers, academics, activists, filmmakers and fans. With wit and warmth, she recounted her journey from small-town Hassan to the global literary stage.
“I did not know what Booker Prize was,” she said. “My only desire was to get my work translated to English, cross the language barrier, and get more readers.” That desire led her to translator Deepa Bhasthi, who picked twelve stories from Haseena Mattu Itara Kathegalu. One of the translated stories won a PEN award, and the English publisher took a chance. “Today, my publisher has been able to earn nearly Rs6 crore from sales of Heart Lamp,” said Banu.
Her recollection of the moment she was longlisted is almost comedic. “I was getting ready for court when my publisher called,” she said. “I thanked her but did not know what being ‘longlisted’ meant. My children, who are abroad, called me excitedly, and I had to ask them what it meant.”
Her London journey was not without drama. Because of health concerns—Banu is a heart patient—her family booked connecting flights via Doha instead of a long direct flight. In transit, she lost her suitcase with her medicines and her beloved Mysore silk sari meant for the award night.
“For two days,” said Banu, “I went without medicines as I could not get an appointment with a doctor even with the best references. Finally, an acquaintance from India who was travelling to London brought me the medicines.”
A sari, however, could not be found. “I ventured out to buy some clothes and found only western wear. I bought pants, shirts and a coat, and attended all the events in my new outfit!”
Breaking barriers: Banu with translator Deepa Bhasthi.
Desperate to wear a sari for the big day, she had tried to find at least two dupattas to sew them together into a makeshift sari that can be worn with a shirt. But she had no luck. Finally, her daughter who flew in from Bahrain got her a rose-coloured Dharmavaram sari to be worn on the big day. “This incident has made my resolve stronger. Since I could not wear my favourite sari while receiving the Booker this time, I plan to win a second Booker,” she quipped.
When she posted about her lost sari on Facebook, hoping a fellow Kannadiga in London might help, the comments instead urged her to “just bring back the Booker!” That moment, she said, shifted her perspective. “I came to London relaxed and fairly satisfied about my book being shortlisted,” she said. “But social media showed how much Booker meant for my people. I thought—how can I return without the trophy? I felt I needed the prize.”
She began rehearsing an acceptance speech, visualising the win. Despite her publisher’s cautious words—“Don’t get your hopes up, it’s a short story collection”—she believed in the power of manifestation. “My Kannadiga genes were at play—reckless optimism,” she said, laughing.
On award night at London’s Tate Modern, Banu and her all-women team—three daughters, Deepa Bhasthi, agent Kanishka Gupta, and publisher Tara Tobler—sat together at a round table. The male family members had to wait outside because of limited invitations.
During dinner, an AI-generated video played: a character speaking Kannada in a foreign accent. Her children thought it might be a sign—only to dismiss it. But then came the announcement: “And the prize goes to… Heart Lamp.”
“I saw my daughters jumping, screaming with joy,” said Banu. “I walked calmly to the dais—as I would have for a Bandaya Sahitya award.”
Her acceptance speech resonated globally, widely shared on social media. Yet, she felt she had said nothing new. “As Bandaya Sahitya writers, we have always spoken for the voiceless. But Kannada needed this recognition,” she said.
Today, Heart Lamp is being translated into 35 languages, including 12 Indian ones. Audio and film rights are under negotiation. “We have read stories and novels of the west, understanding them and their lifestyle. Now it is time they read ours,” said Banu.
She is deeply appreciative of the west’s open outlook and keenness in acquainting themselves with different cultures. She especially marvels at London’s reading culture. “Bookshops were multi-storeyed. Readers queued for hours for book readings, paying for tickets. After one event, I realised I had to sign hundreds of copies—each person wanted one for family or friends. I signed every book in Kannada,” she said.
An amusing encounter came when a woman offered to help her seek asylum in the UK, assuming Muslims were unsafe in India. She declined the “offer” politely. “I told her, ‘I live in India with comfort. I am happy to fight out issues if they arise. Who told you such things about India?”
At the Hay Festival in Wales, where tents hosted 40 bookshops and attracted 25,000 visitors daily, Banu found a landscape eerily reminiscent of Sakleshpur (Hassan) or Kerala. “The local people rent out their house—barring one family room—to the festival guests,” she said. “That is how much they value reading.”
Her calendar is packed: a post-Booker tour starting June 13 will take her from London to Edinburgh, Sri Lanka, Australia, New York and Bali. “I am booked till August,” she said. “It is a chance to not only promote Kannada literature, but also share our stories.”