How an array of literature festivals in Kerala is shaping democratic spaces

Over the past 45 days, Kerala has witnessed an intense literary season, with a steady stream of acclaimed authors—many of whom have published notable works in the last couple of years—arriving in the state to participate in one festival or another. In this short span, Kerala has hosted eight literary festivals, each drawing a diverse mix of writers, thinkers, and cultural figures from across India and beyond.

These festivals, spread across cities and towns, have transformed the state into a vibrant hub of intellectual and literary exchange. The sheer frequency and scale of these gatherings reflect Kerala’s deep-seated literary culture, where literature is not just consumed but actively debated, celebrated, and contested. More than just book launches and panel discussions, these festivals have evolved into platforms for political discourse, artistic exploration, and cultural dialogue.

The presence of international voices alongside homegrown literary stalwarts has further enriched the conversations, reinforcing Kerala’s reputation as a space that values storytelling and ideas.

“Literature festivals have a profound impact on Kerala. As a Malayali, I see how the film society culture, libraries, and a strong reading habit have all contributed significantly to this literary movement. Personally, these festivals have constantly challenged my thoughts and understanding of the world. They are pivotal events in my life—these conversations and discussions shape perspectives,” opines Leena Raghunath, noted journalist and one of the curators of this year’s Wayanad Literature Festival.

“Historically, beedi workers reading newspapers aloud for their fellow comrades played a crucial role in shaping the Left movement in Kerala, reflecting the Malayali’s deep engagement with ideas. Literature festivals may have contributed in a similar way, fostering intellectual discourse and democratic participation. These festivals have evolved into democratic spaces where meaningful dialogues take place,” added Raghunath.

Kerala’s Wayanad district lacks both rail and air connectivity. The nearest railway station is a three-hour journey through the winding ghats, with the closest airport another 30 minutes beyond that. Yet, public figures like former Supreme court judge J. Chelameswar and writer Amitava Kumar attended the four-day literature festival in its entirety.

Unlike many other major literary events, this festival was not organised by a large media house or publishing giant but by a collective of Wayanad residents, led by former Caravan editor Vinod Jose. Notably, journalists were at the forefront of the initiative, and the organising committee comprised local community members from across political affiliations, making it a truly grassroots effort.

“WLF stands apart because we operated on a limited budget and prioritised inclusivity. For instance, Ashraf, a businessman from Wayanad, volunteered as a driver, using his high-end car for festival guests. A resort owner played host at the guest lounge, personally serving food—not as a sponsor, but as a community member. The local community took charge of the festival’s execution, making it truly participatory. They see WLF as their own festival, and their commitment is remarkable,” says Leena Raghunath.

The literary festival trend in Kerala was set in motion by the Malayalam book publisher DC Books with the launch of the Kerala Literature Festival (KLF) in 2014. Over the years, KLF has grown into the state’s premier literary event, now in its eighth edition. Held along the scenic Kozhikode beach, this year’s festival once again witnessed an impressive turnout, drawing nearly four lakh visitors. The event featured an array of towering literary figures, reinforcing its status as a major cultural and intellectual gathering in Kerala’s vibrant literary landscape.

Interestingly, this year saw Malayalam media giant Malayala Manorama enter the literary festival space with its own event, Hortus. Marking the first festival of the season, Hortus was held at the exact venue as KLF in Kozhikode and also attracted lakhs of visitors. The festival’s timing was particularly notable, coming in the backdrop of Manorama’s plans to launch its own publishing house in the coming months. This move signalled a shift in Kerala’s literary landscape, with major media houses now actively shaping the festival culture, adding new dimensions to the evolving interplay between literature, publishing, and public discourse in the state.

Another major player in Kerala’s literary festival landscape is Mathrubhumi, whose literature festival, MBIFL (Mathrubhumi International Festival of Letters), was the latest to conclude in the state. Popularly known as the Ka Festival—after the first consonant in the Malayalam alphabet—this year’s edition took place last week in Thiruvananthapuram. With its distinct branding and carefully curated sessions, MBIFL has established itself as a key platform for literary and intellectual engagement, further highlighting the growing influence of media houses in shaping Kerala’s festival circuit.

At the same time, the rapid institutionalisation of these festivals has raised valid concerns. Critics argue that many of these events, which once functioned as organic spaces of dissent and free thought, are increasingly shaped by corporate sponsorship and political considerations. There is a growing perception that rather than fostering genuine ideological resistance, these festivals serve as controlled spaces—safety valves that allow political frustration to be aired while ensuring it does not translate into direct challenges to power.

“Eight years ago, KLF was the only literature festival where Arundhati Roy had a platform. Now, it’s WLF. This shift signifies changing political dynamics. Roy herself had always pointed out how literature festivals tend to be elitist, but back then in Kerala, such balancing acts were not necessary. However, in Modi’s India, most literature festivals and intellectual events now invite RSS figures as prominent guests, running parallel to increasing corporatisation. The concerns raised by Nandita Haksar about the Jaipur Literature Festival must be understood in this context—many literature festivals in Kerala are also following this trend. These events require massive investments, and once mainstream media steps in, the focus often shifts to business interests, sponsorship-driven growth, and profit,” opines Leena Raghunath.

This criticism does not come from detractors alone but from those within the literary and cultural spheres who recognise a shift in how these festivals operate. They point to the subtle, and sometimes not-so-subtle, ways in which political and economic influences shape programming, curating discussions in ways that maintain a careful balance rather than disrupting dominant narratives.

“It seems to me that the primary function of literature festivals is the creation and promotion of individual images. For instance, the way CPI(M) leader Brinda Karat is approached during a protest and how she is received at a literature festival feels strikingly different. There seems to be a subtle message that Brinda, as part of an organisation, isn’t as significant or respectable. Whether it’s M. Swaraj, Binoy Viswam, or VD Satheeshan, political leaders in these festivals are celebrated as if they exist as some benevolent entity detached from their organisational affiliations,” states Gopakumar Mukundan, a left leaning political commentator based in Kochi.

“Climate change, and written fiction are also presented and discussed at these festivals in a similar vein. There appears to be an unwritten code that neither literature nor climate change should be overtly presented or discussed in a political context at these events. Another hallmark of these festivals is their lack of proportionality. Literature festivals seem to operate as apolitical spaces indulging in narratives, making this imbalance almost inherent. The overall design, architecture, and purpose of these festivals appear to be geared towards image creation, heavily rooted in commercial interests. It’s disheartening to see left-leaning youth organisations and publications, much like Yuvadhara, adopt this very format, as if they have no other choice—a situation seemingly created by the rise of such festivals. These burgeoning literature festivals feel like a carefully orchestrated cultural spectacle, a form of refined sheep herding on the cultural landscape,” adds Gopakumar.

Yet, these concerns do not diminish the significance of the festivals themselves. The sheer volume of participation and the range of voices they attract highlight an undeniable appetite for discourse. Even within these constraints, conversations emerge, questions are raised, and literature continues to engage with the world it seeks to reflect. The debate, then, is not whether these festivals are necessary—they clearly are—but rather, how much they still retain their original spirit of literary and political independence.

In Kerala’s unique political geography and long-standing history of decentralisation, literature festivals have also taken root at the grassroots level. Moving beyond urban centres, many festivals are now being organised in rural areas, drawing pan-Indian guests and fostering literary engagement in communities that were previously outside the mainstream festival circuit. These events, often spearheaded by local cultural organisations, universities, and political groups, reflect Kerala’s deeply embedded culture of discourse and debate.

“We cannot fit all literature festivals into a single financial model—each festival has its own means of sustenance and survival. There are diverse approaches to funding and organisation. When a mainstream media house like Mathrubhumi or Malayala Manorama conducts a literature festival, they have the advantage of securing sponsors for the entire financial year, allocating a portion of those funds to the festival. I am not sure whether they break even, but that is one model. Then there are other models, like the KLF, which relies on sponsorships and grants. There is a widespread misconception that KLF is government-funded, but in reality, it operates through corporate social responsibility (CSR) funds from various companies. Each of these models has its own dynamics, and understanding them is crucial to appreciating the sustainability of literary festivals in Kerala,” says MK Nidheesh, journalist who has been associating with the KLF in video documentation.

Political organisations, too, have entered the literary festival space. The Democratic Youth Federation of India (DYFI) has been hosting Yuvadhara, - Youth literature festival, for two consecutive editions, carving out a niche as a platform for emerging voices and politically engaged literature. This year, the Muslim Youth League also launched its own festival, Ma, named after Malappuram district, where it was held. These politically affiliated festivals indicate how literature is increasingly being used as a space for ideological engagement, reinforcing Kerala’s tradition of political-literary intersections.

“Kerala’s secular youth constantly seek spaces for celebration and gathering—platforms that go beyond religious festivals and traditional festivities. These are inclusive, people-centric secular spaces where attendees come not just to listen to discussions but also to connect with one another,” feels Sreejith Divakaran script writer and journalist.

“Here, new writers are the real stars. They are being celebrated at these festivals reflecting the vibrant literary and intellectual enthusiasm that these events cultivate. Even the capitalist spectacle of secular gatherings must be embraced—because without them, Kerala would lack spaces where people can meet and engage with each other. Though my participation has largely been limited to university festivals, I firmly believe that literature festivals should be encouraged as vital spaces for democratic and secular human interactions,” adds Sreejith.

University unions have also successfully hosted literature festivals, creating spaces where students, academics, and established writers come together. These festivals stand out for their emphasis on debate and critical engagement, often featuring a mix of mainstream, alternative, and radical literary voices. Kannur university union’s KULF edition 2 was one of the hugely successful literary events of this season.

“The festival was built on a meagre fund—scraped together from student contributions and a small university grant—without the possibility of outsourcing anything. From designing posters to editing video clips, everything had to be done by the students in an amateur fashion. Managing all aspects of the guest experience was their responsibility. Ensuring the event ran smoothly without burdening anyone was a challenge. All this, in a campus without students or an academic department to support them. Completing this festival was a huge task,” says Rafiq Ibrahim, a university professor, who was the director of the festival.

“All our guests recognised the politics of such a literary gathering and extended their full support. Some did not charge a single rupee, while others accepted such a modest honorarium that one might even call it an insult. Yet, they embraced us without complaint. Some even refunded the amount through Google Pay, asking us to consider it their contribution. One thing is clear—every guest who participated in KULF2 incurred a financial loss. And yet, I realise from my calls that they see that loss as part of their political expression,” adds Ibrahim.

Even Kerala’s legislative space has embraced the trend. The Kerala Assembly’s annual book fair evolved into a grand literary festival in its own right, drawing significant participation from writers and public intellectuals. However, the Kerala Sahitya Academy’s ambitious International Festival of Letters, which saw a spectacular opening edition with global participation, struggled to sustain momentum. Despite its promising start, the Academy was unable to organise a second edition, due to financial crunch raising questions about institutional challenges in sustaining large-scale literary initiatives in the state.

The proliferation of literature festivals across Kerala—whether grassroots efforts, university-led events, or politically backed initiatives—in a way, demonstrates the state’s unwavering commitment to literary and intellectual discourse. While some festivals have thrived and expanded, others have faced hurdles, reflecting the evolving nature of public engagement with literature in Kerala’s dynamic socio-political landscape.

As Kerala’s literature festivals continue to evolve, the question remains: Are they still shaping public discourse, or are they becoming curated spectacles that reinforce rather than challenge the status quo?