‘It shatters my heart’: the slow death of India’s once-famous Urdu book bazaar | Global development

Inside one of the oldest bookshops in Delhi’s Urdu Bazaar, Rafiq Ahmad, a film critic and writer, is scrutinising the bookshelves for material to help with his next project. Ahmad often travels from Bhopal in Madhya Pradesh to Delhi’s famed Urdu Bazaar in search of the books he needs.

“I know this is the place where I can find any Urdu book from any era. Whenever I have to write anything, I come here for material. Currently, I am looking for books about Dilip Kumar, the renowned Bollywood actor,” Ahmad says.

Once known as a literary hub for book lovers, poets, writers and calligraphers, the Urdu market, nestled among the old and narrow lanes of India’s capital, is silently mourning its own slow death.

About 40 years ago, there were 60 shops that sold Urdu novels and poetry books. Now, only half a dozen survive. The rest have been transformed into eateries, clothing shops and guesthouses. The smell of sizzling kebabs and biryani has triumphed over the scent of ancient books.

Urdu Bazaar, also known as Kitab Ghar or Kitab Mandir, was established in 1920 in the walled city of Delhi and became a hub of Urdu printing, publishing and poetry.

Bookshop owner Moin-Ud-Din and Rafiq Ahmad, who travels to the bazaar from Bhopal in Madhya Pradesh to find research material for his projects. Photograph: Daniyal Hassan

Moin-Ud-Din, 45, owner of Kutub Khana Anjuman-e-Taraqqi-e-Urdu, sits in his shop brushing the dust off a poetry book and reminiscing about his childhood, when the lanes were filled with bookshops, readers and poets.

“I was born here beside these books,” he says. “I started assisting my father when I was in seventh standard [grade]. But witnessing my cradle crumble shatters my heart.”

He is the third generation of his family to look after the bookshop, which his grandfather, Munshi Niyaz Ud-Din, established in 1937.

For Moin-Ud-Din, the decline of Urdu Bazaar began during the partition of the country in 1947, and intensified in the 1980s and 1990s when fast-food restaurants and the digital revolution arrived. Instead of shelves bursting with a rich variety of Urdu Books, food, trendy clothes and miswaqs (teeth-cleaning twigs) began to appear, and the scholars and poets were replaced with food vloggers and fashion fans.

“Most of the booksellers who owned shops here went to Pakistan. Only a few remained here and, later on, many found profit in selling fast food and transformed bookshops into food hubs,” Moin-Ud-Din says.

It was once a bookshop frequented by reputed writers, now it is a hotel selling kebabs and chicken

Ahmad Nabeel, shopkeeper

Many of the bookshops that continue to exist have placed prayer rugs and dates outside to widen their appeal.

“I have been here for seven years. I didn’t know anything about Urdu but my passion for Urdu brought me here,” Mohammad Alauddin, a bookseller at Zulfiqar Book Depot, says. His son-in-law owned the shop, but after his death, Alauddin took over. He too believes that people found selling kebabs more profitable than books.

“Most of the famous, oldest shops – Nazeeria, Quran Ghar, Central Book Depot, Kutub Khana Rasheediya – have become hotels and guesthouses. Since Jama Masjid is here, the sale of food is always high,” Alauddin says, referring to the 400-year-old mosque that sits opposite the bazaar.

Inside the dimly lit Kutub Khana Aziziya bookshop, Ahmad Nabeel is engrossed in writing daily notes. Established in 1937, the shop was looked after by his grandfather and father until it was Nabeel’s turn.

He believes it is the new generation’s lack of interest in Urdu literature that has led to the bazaar’s demise. “Previously, parents taught their kids the Urdu language, but now people are inclined towards English,” Nabeel says. “They are mostly into English literature.”

Back in the bazaar’s heyday, each shop employed about 10 members of staff; now just one or two are needed.

With the nearby 400-year-old Jama Masjid drawing tourists and worshippers, food shops can more readily find customers than bookshops do, say owners. Photograph: Daniyal Hassan

Nabeel points to the adjacent shop that once harboured the famous Kutub Khana Rasheediya. “It was once a bookshop often frequented by reputed writers but then it became a clothes shop and now it is a hotel selling kebabs and chicken,” he says.

Khalid Mubashir, an assistant professor of Urdu at Jamia Millia Islamia university, believes ebooks and the digital world have affected the sale of Urdu books.

“Firstly, the stamina of reading has reduced owing to an increasing 30-40 second ‘reel culture’. Secondly, everything is available and accessible on the internet in the form of ebooks and PDFs. This will be like this in future. I don’t think such space will be revived again,” Mubashir says.

Mohammad Ghalib, 63, is the last surviving calligrapher in the Urdu Bazaar. He has calligraphed academic books and other weighty tomes but, as business dried up, Ghalib turned to writing wedding cards and short titles.

Calligrapher Mohammed Ghalib demonstrates his skill. Photograph: Stuart Freedman/In Pictures/Getty Images

Ghalib recalls the bygone era of Urdu Bazaar: “There were around 14 katibs – calligraphers – here. Some of them died, and some left the profession since they found no profit in it.

“Technology took over the art of calligraphy and handwritten books,” he says, moving his hand over an example of ornate script.

Away from the crowd, on the narrow and dimly-lit Chooriwalan bylane, Shah Wali Ullah library, established in 1994, determinedly promotes Urdu literature and gives space to young poets and writers.

The library holds about 21,000 books, including a 100-year-old Qur’an; Ghalib’s Diwan-e-Ghalib, complete with his personal seal and signature; an illustrated Ramayana in Persian; and Diwan-i Zafar, a volume of Bahadur Shah Zafar’s poetry, printed and sealed by the royal press in the Red Fort in 1885.

“Students from different universities and people from Iran, Japan, Thailand and Europe visit our library and are interested to see these old manuscripts,” says Sikander Mirza Changezi, co-founder of the library. Changezi believes the coming generation will preserve and revive such spaces.

Meanwhile, Moin-Ud-Din is determined to keep his bookshop open. “I too could have switched to an eatery or clothes shop, but I want to carry on the legacy of my grandfather.

“This place was established by scholars who didn’t want to earn from it but contribute to society and religion.”

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