Borders are where two worlds meet, not diverge. This is how Geetanjali Shree’s novel, Ret Samadhi, translated from the Hindi into English by Daisy Rockwell under the title, Tomb of Sand, seems to regard boundaries. As the first novel translated from Hindi to have won the International Booker Prize, the Tomb of Sand has achieved meetings across borders on more than one level, one of which has brought the richness of Indian ‘bhasha’ literature right into the heart of the English-reading public’s universe. But that was made possible by another cross-border meeting: translation. Although the world is used to reading translations of European classics and, recently, of modern classics from elsewhere, say, Japan or Nigeria, translated Indian literature has hardly made a splash, especially in the English publishing market. As Ms Shree says, English is the ‘big’ language, predictably rather self-absorbed, and publishers in the United Kingdom and the United States of America have been satisfied with Indian writers who write in English. Extraordinary as they are, they do not represent the whole of the literature of a country that has 22 scheduled languages and any number of others from 122 to 1599.

If any country needs more translation, it is India. Yet, although translation is the only way to reach the best writing in the world to every reader’s threshold, it is seldom accorded the respect of a learned, meticulous yet adventurous and creative art. This is indicated by the absence of the translator’s name on the cover in most cases, a practice against which Jennifer Croft, the translator of Olga Tokarczuk who won the Nobel Prize in 2019, was one of the first to speak up. English and American publishers feel that a book would sell less if it were to be perceived as translated rather than just good. That does not explain why translators are given a one-time fee and not a share in the royalties. Without the translation, the book would not have found that market at all. Things are changing, however.

India’s riches in literature in its own languages need translation into English at least. That would broaden the overseas reader’s understanding of Indian writing. But there is an equally great need to translate the works of each region into other regional languages, so that neighbours within truly come to know one another. The sparseness of this is a blind spot in a multilingual country. When translation does happen, it is usually into English. As Ms Shree points out, her work would be read by an English-knowing person from Kerala or Gujarat, which rather skews the outcome. Translation into other Indian languages, when it does occur, is not given prominence or visibility. Is this the result of misplaced regional pride that refuses to accord attention and respect to a neighbouring state’s literature? Whatever the reason, the boundaries within India do seem to separate literatures rather than letting them cross over.