The quiet art: Namita Gokhale on translation, visibility, and cultivating a literary ecosystem

Author and Jaipur Literature Festival (JLF) co-director Namita Gokhale discusses the essential, steady work of fostering literary translation, the perils of overstatement, and the need to rebuild India's multilingual fabric with Tina Shashikanth .

Q: As both an author and festival director, you occupy a unique space between creation and curation. In your experience, how can festivals like JLF move beyond simply "showcasing" translated works to actively honouring and interrogating the translator's art—making the process and the practitioner more visible to the audience?
NG: I have been committed to translation for years. I founded Yatra Books, which was devoted to it, and worked on the 'Indian Literature Abroad' project. I brought that focus to JLF. Initially, we featured translated works and translators without a dedicated space. Around 2014, we formalised it with the Jaipur Bookmark. Alongside, initiatives like the Vani Translation Prize, now in its tenth year, have created significant ripples, honouring translators like Daisy Rockwell and this year’s winner, Prabhat Ranjan.


There’s no point in virtue-signalling. Talking about translation is fashionable, but it’s not enough. The real work is encouraging bilingual or trilingual communities to enable direct translations, moving beyond lazy bridge translations via English.

To make translations happen, you need a chain: good publishers publish them, good readers read them, and for that, you need good translators. This creates a healthy ecosystem. The Jaipur Bookmark fosters this subtly by discussing translation and connecting international translators. It's a quiet, steady process. I am suspicious of becoming too loudly visible about translation; it is work that happens consistently in the background.

Q: The JLF is celebrated for its linguistic diversity. What are the key considerations and challenges in curating a representative "map" of Indian and world literature in translation? How do you balance canonical works with discovering and platforming vital new voices from lesser-translated languages?

NG: My first duty is to ensure interesting sessions for our global audience. I invite good communicators with a story to tell. I curate for narrative, not as an award ceremony. I seek what makes for a compelling session, and the linguistic and representational diversity follows from that focus.

Q: Translation is often described as an act of interpretation and cultural negotiation. In your view, what makes for a great literary translation—one that captures not just the meaning, but the spirit, rhythm, and cultural context of the original? Can you share an example of a translation that, in your opinion, achieved this?

NG: Context and cultural understanding are crucial, but so is a strong literary command of both the source and target languages. A translation must read well and communicate to its new audience. I give my translators liberties; a very literal translation often suffers. Flexibility is key when moving between languages.

Two exemplary translators are Constance Garnett, who introduced Tolstoy and Dostoevsky to English readers, and Edward Seidensticker, translator of Murasaki Shikibu's The Tale of Genji. Their work never felt like anything but the original.

Q: Translation flows are often uneven, with certain languages dominating the global literary marketplace. As a festival rooted in India, how does JLF consciously work to subvert this hierarchy? Do you see the festival playing a role in creating new demand and readership for works from marginalised or indigenous languages?

NG: I do not consciously work to subvert hierarchies. I look for good translations that will find a good audience. While translation is a political act, a literature festival is not a political exercise for me. I am keen on good translations of Dalit literature, for instance, but because they are good translations that carry through, not solely for ideology.

Q: Your own novels, such as Paro and Things to Leave Behind, are deeply embedded in specific cultural milieus. When your work is translated, what is your relationship with that process? Is it a letting go, a collaboration, or something else entirely? What anxieties or joys does it bring?

NG: I let it go. I’ve written 26 books. I do the Jaipur Literature Festival. I help curate it. I help out with seven or eight other festivals. I lack the time and, in some cases, the linguistic fluency to critically engage. I find a translator I trust. My involvement is often in suggesting or approving titles, as they are vital. For Things to Leave Behind and The Blind Matriarch, for example, the Hindi titles (Raag Pahadi and Aandhari) beautifully conveyed the essence.

Q: Looking ahead, what is the single most important change you wish to see in the ecosystem of literary translation—be it in terms of funding, recognition, criticism, or reader engagement—and how can festivals be catalysts for that change?

NG: I work in small ways. Changing the whole ecosystem is not for me. What I truly wish is for India to regain its bilingual and trilingual character. It alarms me that the norm of speaking multiple languages is fading, with many losing their mother tongues in favour of English. Earlier, people were comfortably trilingual. That loss impoverishes our capacity for authentic translation and exchange.