Literary Haven

A town better known for its ancient temples, Ambajogai in Beed is now to be transformed into a ‘village of books.’ The project is being pitched by the Maharashtra government as an effort to cultivate a love for reading and breathe fresh life into the town’s literary heritage.

Modelled on a similar experiment in Bhilar (near Mahabaleshwar), Ambajogai’s transformation will involve artistic reading nooks scattered across local landmarks such as Kholeshwar and Yogeshwari colleges, and the samadhi (final resting place) of Mukundraj, the Marathi poet considered a pioneer of vernacular literature. Central to the project will be the republication of Viveksindhu, Mukundraj’s philosophical treatise, long unavailable in print.

In an age when screen time often eclipses book time, creating havens that celebrate the written word is a noble ambition. Yet enthusiasm alone does not guarantee longevity. When it was inaugurated in 2017, Bhilar charmed visitors with its murals, its temples repurposed into reading rooms and a treasure trove of over 15,000 books housed in homes, schools and community spaces as bibliophiles wandered from one location to another in search of poetry, fiction, and history.

But over the years, the momentum has flagged. Lack of sustained investment, wavering administrative focus and a failure to integrate literary tourism with the broader economy have meant that Bhilar, while still a pleasant detour for some tourists, no longer pulses with the same vibrant energy. The lesson is clear: it takes more than a one-off burst of enthusiasm to sustain a book village.

Globally, a few villages have managed to script happier stories. Hay-on-Wye, a tiny town on the border between England and Wales, is the obvious prototype (and the inspiration for Bhilar and many other projects). Once a sleepy farming community, Hay reinvented itself as a ‘town of books’ in the 1960s thanks to the vision of Richard Booth, a maverick bookseller who declared the town an independent literary kingdom. Today, Hay boasts over twenty bookstores and hosts the world-renowned Hay Festival, drawing tens of thousands of visitors annually. Its success lies not just in populating shelves but in creating a living literary ecosystem.

In Belgium, Redu followed a similar path and transformed itself into a ‘book village’ in 1984. Redu’s annual book festival is now a fixture on the European literary calendar. Both Hay and Redu demonstrate that strategic planning, sustained investment and integration with tourism and local commerce are vital for success.

For Ambajogai, the lessons are obvious. Publishing Viveksindhu and setting up artistically adorned reading spots will ignite initial curiosity. But without a steady stream of new titles, engaging literary events, partnerships with schools and universities and the active participation of the local community, the project risks becoming another well-intentioned initiative that fizzles out after the inaugural ribbon is cut.

Literature can indeed transform places. For that to happen, a book village must be treated not as a monument but as a living organism, needing constant care and renewal.