When Geetanjali Shree’s Tomb of Sand won the International Booker Prize in 2022, a window opened. Through it, the world caught a glimpse of the boundless depth and brilliance of Indian literature beyond English…
Manan Dutta
When Geetanjali Shree’s Tomb of Sand won the International Booker Prize in 2022, a window opened. Through it, the world caught a glimpse of the boundless depth and brilliance of Indian literature beyond English. Written originally in Hindi and translated into English by Daisy Rockwell, the novel became not just a literary milestone but a cultural awakening—reminding us that stories written in the tongues of the land can travel far, if only given the chance.
Three years later, that flame continues to glow—this time through the gentle yet fierce light of Heart Lamp: Selected Stories by Banu Mushtaq, translated from Kannada by Deepa Bhasthi, and now shortlisted for the 2025 International Booker Prize. A first for Kannada literature, this recognition is no isolated event; it is a continuation, a signpost, perhaps even a quiet revolution.
What does it mean when Indian regional languages—long confined to the margins of both national and international literary circuits—begin to step into global light? It means the literary map of the world is shifting. It means the soil beneath our multilingual country is rich with untapped treasures, and the world is finally listening.
India’s literary landscape is not a monolith—it is a vast, many-voiced forest. With 22 official languages and hundreds of dialects, each region bears its own stories, textures, and truths. Yet, for decades, English has been the dominant currency for global recognition. Now, the ascent of Hindi and Kannada into literary prominence signals that the time of the vernacular has come—not as a rebellion, but as a revelation.
Banu Mushtaq’s work, spanning decades, speaks of Muslim women’s lives in Karnataka with nuance, rage, sorrow, and love. Deepa Bhasthi’s translation is more than linguistic—it is spiritual. It carries across the silences, the context, the breath of a world often invisible. In their collaboration, something luminous has been born—a diya placed on the windowsill of world literature.
We must remember: translation is not dilution. It is expansion. It does not lessen a story—it makes it travel.
When Tomb of Sand won, many asked: will this open the door for more regional literature? Today, with Heart Lamp shortlisted, the answer feels resoundingly hopeful. From Bengali to Tamil, from Malayalam to Assamese, from Odia to Marathi—the languages of India are waiting, not for permission, but for partnership. For translators with heart. For publishers with courage. For readers who are ready to listen beyond the familiar.
The Booker nods are not the peak. They are the beginning. A light lit not just in Delhi or Bengaluru, but in every writer’s room where someone is quietly shaping the world in their mother tongue.
At The Quill, we believe this: that the future of Indian literature is not in any one language, but in all of them. And when many tongues speak, the song is richer. When many flames burn, the light is brighter.
Let the lamp shine on.
