Arvind Patkar, a highly respected figure in the Marathi publishing industry and the founder of Manovikas Prakashan, passed away last week. His death has prompted an outpouring of condolences and a renewed appreciation for his uncompromising commitment to knowledge-oriented, progressive literature.
In an age where the global lingua franca, English, seems to hold an unassailable position in the digital sphere, the survival of the regional vernacular often appears to be a losing battle. Yet, at the recent Jaipur Literature Festival, a quiet conversation took place, not about the ascendancy of the screen, but about the tenacious resilience of the printed word, particularly in Marathi.
The existential struggle of a language is rarely fought on a grand battlefield. More often, it is lost quietly, in dwindling circulation figures and the unnervingly empty aisles of a city bookshop. In Maharashtra, the great Marathi language — a tongue with a two-and-a-half-thousand-year-old tradition — is engaged in precisely such a skirmish. The recent 99th All India Marathi Literary Conference in Satara, framed by President Vishwas Patil as an "emergency summit," was not a celebration of letters, but a confrontation with the "terrifying silence" of a vanishing reader
The popular history of the Maratha Empire, in the hands of political ideologues, often runs aground shortly after the celebrated reign of Chhatrapati Shivaji. Everything that follows — a period defined by the struggles for survival of the Swarajya — is frequently obscured, if not outright distorted. Dr Jaisingrao Pawar, who passed away on 26 March in Kolhapur at the age of 84, dedicated his life to excavating that overlooked era, presenting facts to society based on truth and reality, and remaining undeterred by criticism.
Vishnu Joshi, the publisher behind the Kavyagraha imprint, does not see a business in the traditional sense. He sees a vocation, a Satyagraha — a firm insistence — for poetry.
The Sahitya Akademi Award for 2025 has been announced, with the top honour for Raju Baviskar’s autobiographical work, Kalyanilaya Resha (Black and Blue Lines). The esteemed award recognises the book’s sensitive and powerful portrayal of “the life of neglect and struggle endured by those living on the outskirts of the village.”
An indie publishing house in Kalyan is reviving the tactile pleasure of the Marathi book, one meticulously crafted spine at a time