"The book felt cool enough now to slip inside her uniform. At first, it was nice and warm against her chest. As she began walking, though, it began to heat up again. By the time she made it back to Papa and Wolfgang Edel, the book was starting to burn her. It seemed to be igniting…Beneath her shirt the book was eating her up."

— Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

In Nazi Germany, some books were considered so dangerous that they were banned and publicly burnt. Liesl Meminger, the eponymous 'Book Thief' of Australian author Markus Zusak’s bestselling novel, steals a half-burned book from the edge of one of these bonfires — setting into motion a course of events that would alter her life. On August 5, 2025, the Nazi practice of book banning and burning echoed across time and space as the Jammu & Kashmir Home Department declared 25 books "forfeit", effectively banning works that, authorities said, spread "false narratives" and "secessionism" in Kashmir.

The list included scholarly histories and reports by well-known authors like Booker Prize winning author Arundhati Roy and lawyer, historian, and author A. G. Noorani — books whose controversial contents and sensitive subjects have long been part of a contentious public record about the Kashmir region. The order was issued under provisions of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), India's new criminal code framework, and it quickly sparked outrage among scholars, publishers, and free speech advocates who argued that erasing uncomfortable histories is a political act, not just a neutral effort to maintain public order.

Ironically, banning books often makes them more desirable to readers. This phenomenon, known as the Streisand Effect, occurs when attempts to suppress information, such as banning a book, lead to increased awareness and interest. Named after American singer and actress Barbra Streisand, who tried to suppress photos of her California residence only to have them widely distributed, the same principle applies to literature. When a book is banned or challenged, it garners more attention than it would have otherwise.

This recent episode of book banning sits on the short end of a very long shelf. Book banning in India is not a recent phenomenon; it has a long history as an instrument of the British colonial empire and a blunt weapon used by fragile post-colonial governments as a recurring response to religious and political mobilisations.

Written during Gandhi's return voyage from London to South Africa, 'Hind Swaraj' (Indian Home Rule) was a diatribe against modern industrial civilisation and a call for swaraj (self-rule) rooted in moral self-discipline, village economies, and non-violence. The British colonial government banned it in 1910 under the Press Act for “seditious” content, fearing its critique of British rule and advocacy of passive resistance would inspire anti-colonial mobilisation. It was only made legal in India after Independence.

An anthology of Urdu short stories by Sajjad Zaheer, Ahmed Ali, Rashid Jahan, and Mahmud-uz-Zafar, 'Angarey' (Urdu for 'Embers') broke taboos with its frank depictions of sexuality, gender relations, and hypocrisy in conservative Indian Muslim society. It outraged clerics and social conservatives, who saw it as blasphemous. The United Provinces government banned it under Section 295A of the Indian Penal Code for "insulting religious beliefs". Its suppression helped catalyse the Progressive Writers’ Movement in India.

A satirical retelling of the Ramayana by the Irish-Indian writer Aubrey Menen, the novel reimagined the epic with irreverent humour, psychological nuance, and critiques of divine infallibility. Considered disrespectful to Hindu religious sentiments, the Government of India refused import and distribution of the book, effectively banning it for decades. The action reflected early post-Independence sensitivities about perceived irreverence toward sacred texts. It was the first book banned in independent India.

American historian Stanley Wolpert's 'Nine Hours to Rama', a fictionalized account of the nine hours leading up to Nathuram Godse's assassination of Mahatma Gandhi, was banned in India in 1962, followed by a ban on its film adaptation in 1963. The bans were implemented due to the sympathetic portrayal of Godse and concerns over the misrepresentation of historical events. Although Wolpert was sympathetic to Gandhi, Indian authorities believed that the work trivialized the assassination and could potentially offend public sentiment by depicting historical figures in a controversial light.

A complex, magic-realist novel interrogating migration, identity, and religion, Salman Rushdie's 'The Satanic Verses' was banned because of controversial passages loosely inspired by disputed Islamic historical traditions. Many Muslim groups around the world denounced it as blasphemous. In India, protests began shortly after publication, and the government banned its import under the Customs Act in 1988, citing possible threats to public order. It was one of the first countries to ban the book, weeks before Iran's Islamic fundamentalist ruler Ayatollah Khomeini issued his infamous fatwa. Ironically, the ban was lifted in December 2024 because the Indian government could not produce the original order enforcing the ban.

Tracing the arc of book banning from colonial statutes to today's regional forfeiture orders makes visible a familiar pattern of censorship that silences uncomfortable conversations and ultimately narrows the collective imagination. The settings have changed — from Berlin squares to Srinagar bookshops — but the impulse remains identical: control what people can imagine, and you control what they can demand.

Here's more from Homegrown:

Hamama Tul Bushra's Powerful Art Series Celebrates The Enduring Legacy Of Banned Books

For Thee But Not For Me: It's Time We Examine The Double Standards Of Indian Censorship

'Rama Retold': Here's Why Aubrey Menen's Controversial Book Was Banned In India