Indian writer Banu Mushtaq’s Booker Prize-winning Heart Lamp is a light in the fog of manufactured narratives

It is a big moment in India’s literary landscape. Writer, activist and lawyer Banu Mushtaq has won the prestigious International Booker Prize 2025. Written in Kannada, the collection of stories titled Heart Lamp poignantly portrays the struggles of Muslim women in homes in South India. Translated by Deepa Bhasthi who shares the prize equally, this is the first short story collection to be awarded the prestigious honour.

“This book was born from the belief that no story is ever small; that in the tapestry of human experience, every thread holds the weight of the whole,” says Mushtaq. The anthology is flying off the shelves after being a quiet nomination. For that matter, it was not part of many conversations back home. But the landmark win is hopefully transformative. For one it showcases the depth of India’s regional languages and the abundance of powerful stories that arise in its sprawling land away from the cynosure of eyes. The accolade also spotlights the art of translations and makes this creativity, mainstream.

Banu’s book importantly also gives voice to India’s marginalised Muslim women and spotlights their existence amidst patriarchal communities, stories that by and large remain buried. As it is, in the hinterland, women are often under-reported — whether due to fear of families being ostracised or because of deep-rooted social conditioning. In an interview with a newspaper, the writer spoke about how she received threatening phone calls in the past after supporting women’s right to offer prayer in mosques.

Mushtaq’s writing in Kannada reinforces the country’s linguistic umbrella over language imposition which has taken a more political turn in recent years and forces a national identity over regional diversity. Writing with empathy she has shown a mirror of the country’s rich heterogeneity.

Crucially, against the backdrop of a rather generic socio-cultural dismissal of book culture, this award is the pushback we periodically require for thought and intellect to come together to carve spaces from imagination and experience. Hindi novelist Geetanjali Shree’s Booker Award three years ago, for Tomb of Sand, was one such moment. India is not immune to the vacuousness of digital reel consumption and the ‘content creator’ syndrome where the biggest casualty is nuance. It has made the long format somewhat of an anomaly and led to a new breed of writers — ‘influencers’ with millions of followers who get published not for their creativity with the pen but for their online reach.

But they sell, forcing publishing houses to recognise market forces. At least one recent bestselling author reportedly admitted she had never read a book! Some leverage their online popularity to force event organisers to give a minimum guarantee of book sales for making an appearance. Along the way, dazzling serious work faces obscurity as not all authors can match the digital presence. Hence, Banu Mushtaq’s win is one for the traditional author who writes because there are stories, raw and unbridled to share in the real world. The other message is that, however fickle the audience good literature will find its place. In the competitive online culture, staying sincere to one’s art form is the truest test.

No longer on the sidelines, the literary festival scene in the country is, however, robust. The circuit is burgeoning with the respected, the pretenders and those with the right intent. The Jaipur Literature Festival is coveted and has built a formidable global reputation. Events of this scale foster an interest in both the written and spoken word. By association, they also give an impetus to the local industry. There are also niche festivals catering to a select audience and the literary calendar may have peaked but, book tourism can never be wrong. It is a wonderful coming together of divergent minds and thoughts. With notable exceptions on these platforms, democracy thrives.

Writings that remain in the public imagination challenge the status quo, speak about the uncomfortable and remind us how fiction can also be crafted reality. They make people think. Unfortunately, in India as with most things in the public space, even literary festivals are not immune to the ideological divide. Some endorse propaganda, promoting books with a slanting narrative and making them no better than a Bollywood award function. Due diligence is no longer restricted to corporate vocabulary and extends also to authors although not for their work but for their political leanings. Unless a politician has authored a book, his place at these events is limited but the country increasingly finds it difficult to separate the political from the creative. It ironically defeats the purpose of a book.

The struggle for historians in the country is real. It is not just the tweaking of the past in school textbooks where accounts are being sanitised but books supporting faux nationalism are flooding the market to counter actual legacies. Endorsed by people in power, some writers are making a killing. This is not very different from the agenda-driven daily television news, only the reader may not have realised it just yet.

Amidst this churning at diverse fronts, Mushtaq’s award is opportune. It reminds us that golden words are enough to cut through the clutter.