The Paradox of India's Literary Festival Boom
Across India, more than one hundred literature festivals bloom each winter, attracting enormous crowds to venues ranging from major cities to small towns. Yet this vibrant cultural phenomenon exists alongside a stark reality: most Indians do not read books for pleasure, and English-language titles typically sell only 3,000 to 4,000 copies, with 10,000 copies considered a bestseller.
A Cultural Spectacle Beyond Books
Publisher Pramod Kapoor of Roli Books illustrates this disconnect with an anecdote about cricketing legend Bishen Singh Bedi, who expected his autobiography to sell tens of thousands of copies matching his stadium audiences. "That was in 2021. Nothing has changed," Kapoor explains. "The average book in English sells only around 3-4,000 copies. If it tops 10,000, it's counted a bestseller."
Author and columnist Parsa Venkateshwar Rao Jr describes India's limited book-reading tradition as a mystery worthy of social scientific exploration. "Maybe it's because of the strong oral story-telling tradition? The epics are well known and passed down the generations and taken very seriously. I'm baffled by why so few Indians buy books and read," he says.
Festivals as Social Experience
Priyanka Malhotra, CEO of Full Circle Publishing and owner of Delhi's Café Turtle bookstore, notes that "buying books is still a luxury for the middle and lower-middle class." This economic reality helps explain why festivals have evolved into multifaceted events where books often take a back seat to other attractions.
At the Banaras Lit Fest in Varanasi, the Durbar Hall hosts discussions about screens versus books while outside, the festival grounds buzz with activity. Local artists paint under mango trees, while mime shows, standup comedy, handicraft sales, and fashion displays create a carnival atmosphere. Later, Grammy award-winning classical instrumentalist Vishwa Mohan Bhatt performs to a rapt audience.
"For many, a book festival is a social and cultural experience where the book is often the background, not the main event," Malhotra observes, noting that Indians generally prefer hubbub over hushed, decorous settings.
Planting Seeds for Future Readers
Deepak Madhok, president of the Banaras Lit Fest and owner of the Sunbeam school chain, consciously creates a "masala" mix with something for everyone. He encourages schoolchildren attending from his institutions to enjoy the selfie booth but also mandates that they listen to at least one author session and discuss it later with teachers.
"I'm hoping these seeds will germinate and produce a new generation of readers," Madhok says, pointing to 11-year-old Suryavansh Raj who attends for history beyond textbooks. "He's here for history now but next year he might walk into a session and one chance remark by an author might spark an interest in another subject."
The Literacy-Reading Gap and Digital Competition
While literacy rates have risen significantly in India, a substantial gap persists between the ability to read and the habit of reading for pleasure. Chiki Sarkar, co-founder of Juggernaut Books, notes that "India hasn't made the transition to a literate, book-reading class. A literature festival provides a lively atmosphere, crowds and the chance to be 'cool' by being seen at a prestigious cultural event."
Former diplomat and author Pavan Varma observes a trend toward simplification, with more readers wanting "neatly packaged, short, simplified, easily comprehensible, capsuled – and if possible, summarised – texts that can be read on a brief flight, rather than works of lasting literary value."
Mobile technology presents additional competition. "India is one of the largest consumers of mobile data," Malhotra notes. "Short videos, YouTube, reels and gaming have largely filled what little leisure time might have been spent on books."
The Hidden World of Regional Literature
English-language books represent only a tiny fraction of India's literary landscape. For most Indians, English serves as a functional tool rather than the language of emotion and thought. Information about book sales in regional languages remains scarce, creating what Rao describes as "an opaque area."
American author Dan Morrison, present at the Varanasi festival, believes regional literature presents "a different world, closed to people outside the state." He notes, "You feel that something great could be cooking in a state but I can't smell it, I won't know it, until it's translated into English."
The case of Banu Mushtaq illustrates this dynamic perfectly. A feminist writer who chronicles Muslim women's lives in Kannada, she enjoyed enormous recognition within Karnataka but remained largely unknown elsewhere until her book Heart Lamp was translated into English and won the International Booker Prize in 2025.
Democratization and Hope
Morrison views the proliferation of festivals as a "democratisation of literature" happening "in places that people would have laughed at as venues just 10 years ago." He argues that regardless of what motivates non-readers to attend, "there is no downside. At least you're around some culture that is not a screen."
Arya Mohan, a 22-year-old English literature student at Banaras Hindu University reading Christopher Hitchens and Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, represents the hopeful minority. "At least the festival is raising awareness about books," she says. "Even if just a handful of people hear something they will remember for the rest of their lives, it's worth it."
As flute music competes with rap bands across festival lawns, India's literary festivals continue their paradoxical existence – thriving cultural events in a nation where book reading remains an uncommon pleasure, yet potentially planting seeds that might one day transform the literary landscape.
