ON Saturday (10 January 2026), the opening day of the New Delhi World Book Fair (NDWBF), I visited the fair, drawn, as every year, by the promise of books, conversations, and the quiet excitement that only a gathering of readers can generate. The first day of the fair carries a particular energy: anticipatory yet unhurried, structured yet exploratory, allowing space for both observation and immersion.
The arrangements at the entrance reflected careful planning. Free transportation services, operated from designated entry points, ferried visitors smoothly to the exhibition pavilions. Seated inside one such vehicle, I moved past police and security force vehicles stationed strategically, underscoring both the scale of the event and the emphasis on safety. On the opposite side, the Food Corner, already lively despite the early hours, offered a sensory contrast of aromas and conversations, reminding visitors that the fair is as much a social space as it is an intellectual one.
Before entering the main exhibition halls, we encountered a group of Arabic performers, engaged in what appeared to be a traditional cultural or ritualistic dance. Their synchronised movements, rhythmic steps, and traditional attire momentarily transformed the entrance into a site of cultural exchange. This performance served as a fitting overture to a fair that prides itself on linguistic, religious, and cultural plurality.
Being the first day, the fair venue was comparatively uncrowded, allowing for unhurried movement across halls and installations. We made it a point to visit almost every stall, regardless of language, region, or religious orientation, an exercise that revealed the vast intellectual geography represented within the fair.
International publishing giants such as Penguin Random House, Oxford University Press, and HarperCollins stood alongside regional, independent, and university presses. Among them, Penguin Random House was noticeably distinct: its stall was consistently full, and entry required standing in a queue. This popularity spoke not merely to brand recognition, but to the enduring appeal of its catalogue.
We spent a considerable amount of time at Penguin, particularly in the Classics section, where familiar names and time-tested texts invited slow reading and quiet reflection. The experience reaffirmed the continued relevance of canonical literature in an age increasingly dominated by digital immediacy.
After exploring the international section, with its diverse representation of global languages and publishing traditions, I turned our attention to Indian publishers, especially those working in Urdu. These stalls, though smaller in scale, were intellectually compelling, offering books that engaged directly with contemporary political, religious, and social debates.
Two titles, in particular, stood out:
Murder in the Name of Allah and
Why Muslims Are Misfit in the Modern World?
The titles themselves were arresting, inviting both curiosity and critical engagement. Conversations with the publishers revealed that these works seek not sensationalism, but confrontation with difficult questions—about violence, identity, faith, and modernity. The discussions were thoughtful and productive, underscoring how book fairs function not merely as marketplaces, but as forums for dialogue.
The themes addressed by these books resonate strongly with the global climate of ideological conflict, religious polarisation, and cultural anxiety. Murder in the Name of Allah by Hazrat Mirza Tahir Ahmad, translated by Syed Barakat Ahmad from Urdu Mazhab ke nam per Khoon,interrogates the misuse of religious language to justify violence, urging a moral separation between faith and extremism. Why Muslims Are Misfit in the Modern World by Arshad Maḥmūd, translated by Jamshed Iqbal, offers an internal critique, examining the tensions between tradition and contemporary social realities.
That such books find space and readership at the fair reflects the fair’s commitment to intellectual openness. It also highlights the role of publishing in initiating conversations that are often avoided in mainstream discourse.
Beyond individual books and publishers, the book fair emerged as a living cultural ecosystem, a space where languages intersect, traditions converse, and readers negotiate their relationship with the present through texts. Families, students, scholars, casual readers, and publishers moved through the halls with equal purpose, each participating in a shared literary ritual.
The surrounding environment, security arrangements, food stalls, transport facilities, performances, contributed to making the fair accessible and inclusive. It was evident that the NDWBF is not merely an event, but an annual cultural institution within India’s intellectual life.
The first day at the New Delhi World Book Fair was not simply a visit; it was an encounter with ideas, cultures, and urgent questions of our time. From global publishing houses to regional Urdu presses, from classical literature to contemporary polemics, the fair reaffirmed the enduring power of books to challenge, comfort, and connect.
In an era often declared post-literary, the NDWBF stands as quiet evidence to the contrary: that reading remains a collective act, and books continue to matter, perhaps now more than ever.
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Azmat Ali writes in English and Urdu, with a focus on literature, politics, and religion. Views expressed here are author’s personal. He can be contacted at rascov205@gmail.com and @azmata90_lle (Instagram ID)
