‘Everyday Reading’: A richly informative book relives the glory days of Hindi magazine publishing

In the decades immediately following the Independence, a class of Indians – namely, the middle class – realised that reading for pleasure could be a serious activity. The times were changing and so was publishing – there was no longer the primary (if unspoken) rule of writing to invoke feelings of patriotism and devotion to the motherland. After decades of serving the nation, the reader was finally free to “serve themselves”. To focus on improving their soft skills, purchasing products and services that would make life easier, and most importantly, there was plenty of time to read just for the heck of it.

This was clearly an exciting time for both readers and publishers. A new nation was born with fresh dreams and new aspirations, this was the time to make a mark on its cultural and social landscapes. In her book, Everyday Reading: Middlebrow Magazines and Book Publishing in Post-Independence India, Aakriti Mandhwani studies this new era in reading and print history vis-a-vis “middlebrow” magazines and publishers that dominated the Hindi reading scene. As Mandhwani explains, a “middlebrow” book or magazine can be defined as reading materials primarily consumed by the newly emerging middle class. It lacked the sophistication of “highbrow” literature and the crudeness or plainness of “lowbrow” literature. Besides being something to read, these titles often opened up the world for its readers by making their imagination expand beyond the local and Indian. Translations of world literature, travel essays, and high-quality photo spreads were introduced to show the reader the fabulous diversity of the world. It did not necessarily create aspirations of travel or acquiring wealth to lead this suitable lifestyle but simply offered a look at how people lived in different parts of the world.

What everyone was reading

Mandhwani studies this phenomenon primarily through two magazines Sarita and Dharmyug, the publishing house Hind Pocket Books and also through genre magazines such as Maya, Rasili Kahaniyan, and Manohar Kahaniyan. From Mandhwani’s diligent research and lucid writing emerges a thrilling and colourful narrative of a time long gone by – and perhaps slowly being forgotten. It takes the reader back in time to see for themselves the changing face of the Indian middle class. A book that doubles up as a time capsule.

Reasonably priced, beautifully produced, and thoughtfully curated, Sarita did not just offer something for every reader but made bold choices about the kind of magazine it wanted to be. Mandhwani highlights editor-publisher Vishwa Nath’s aspirations to democratise Hindi. He leaned more towards Hindustani instead of Hindi to argue “against a homogenised nationalist imagination.” Furthermore, it preferred to stay out of language debates vis-a-vis English. Nath quite readily accepted that English was the lingua franca of the hour and it was futile to compete with its popularity and usefulness. Instead, the focus was resolutely on creating a quality magazine that took its reader – and their suggestions – seriously and printed writings that were both interesting and easy to understand.

Sarita’s liberal outlook, as Mandhwani points out, was also in its openness to criticise ritualistic practices in Hinduism. Women regularly wrote letters to the editors or posed questions for its agony aunt column. If they lavished praises, they also let their disappointment known when they read something they did not agree with. These interactions, as Mandhwani shows, also point to the Indian woman becoming more outspoken and worldly. She did not fear speaking her mind. Sarita’s commitment to upholding its readers' “creative, intellectual, and ethical interests” made them fearless and independent. The country could take the backseat – it was time for the family to nourish itself.

Madhwani then moves on to middlebrow Hindi publisher Hind Pocket Books which popularised the self-help genre in the language. The genre was not as self-important back then and a major chunk of it was made up of manuals on how to write letters and suchlike and wise sayings of sages and other great men. The reader was taught to imagine himself as an elevated being of refined taste – another aspiration generally associated with the middle class. It also published literary fiction of diverse values, including translations of well-known world and Indian classics. Its drive to publish literary megastars such as Agyeya, Upendranath Ashk, Dharamvir Bharti, and Harivansh Rai Bachchan among others also confirms Hind Pocket Books’ commitment to bringing the best of contemporary fiction to its readers.

Publisher-editor Dina Nath Malhotra tapped into the importance of creating a recognisable brand which he did by publishing the first paperbacks in Hindi, creating unique designs, and keeping prices affordable. The Gharelu Library Scheme or the Home Library Scheme was another indigenous plan of Malhotra to get readers to subscribe to the brand and get a designated number of books every month for a fixed amount. Mandhwani’s case study of Guru Dutt’s social romances and Krishan Chander’s satires (both published by Hindi Pocket Books) is a fine example of how despite publishing seemingly contradictory genres, the publisher was serious about not just entertaining the reader but also satiating their curiosity and need to know.

As for Dharmyug, helmed by the mercurial author-editor Dharamvir Bharti, the aim was to make the common Indian reader a citizen of the world. A resolute focus on photography, travel writing, and literature with a generous dose of Hindu sentimentality and imagery was employed to the cause. Posters of Hindu gods and goddesses were printed on high-quality paper to be cut and hung at home. Budgets were allocated for writers to travel and report. Parented by the Bennett Coleman group, Mandhwani draws a fascinating connection between the power of capital and an expansive cultural imagination. This is further supported by Mandhwani’s findings on how despite its evidently Hindu-centric narrative, Dharmayug openly celebrated America and its lifestyle. The (male) writers travelled to the US to ultimately find similarities between the woman’s angel-like presence at home and the man’s role as a provider in both countries. The message was clear: despite material differences, the two countries were alike at heart. Mandhwani’s study of these photographs, essays and the ways “cosmopolitanism” was preached to the Indian middle class is a treat to read.

Books for all

The final section on genre magazines – Maya, Rasili Kahaniyan, and Manohar Kahaniyan – is as “romanchak” as the stories in them promised to be. Quite in contrast to the values popularised by the aforementioned magazines and publishers, these magazines existed purely to entertain. Mandhwani presents a few stories from each magazine to illustrate the kind of writing that was being printed – and as one expects, they were quite literally “juicy”, “magical”, and “pleasing.” Readers read Sadat Hasan Manto’s stories alongside those of virtually unknown writers like Vimla Phadke. In both cases, the stories are very sensuous and visceral – appealing to a person’s base emotions. The advertisements too evoked similar feelings. It was not unusual to stumble upon ads for birth control, menstrual health products, or cheaply made cosmetic goods. Big brands would stay away from these magazines. A short but highly entertaining section, we see how publishers and writers scrambled to meet demands for racy, provocative writings.

The profiles of Sarita, Dharmyug, and Hind Pocket Books are rich with information, anecdotes, images, and readers’ comments and letters that Mandhwani has compiled and translated. A writer of lesser talent might have made a mess of it, overwhelmed the reader but Mandhwani strikes the perfect balance between the scholarly and leisurely reading – much like what Sarita and Dharmyug had set out to do and spectacularly achieved. Her genuine love for the Hindi language, its glory days of magazine publishing, and her own associations with the magazines as a reader shines in her unbiased and fair judgement of her subjects.

As I read in awe about the monumental roles these middlebrow magazines played in empowering women and encouraging their literacy, I could not help thinking about Mandhwani’s Acknowledgment. In the final lines of her “Meherbani”, she thanks her unlettered grandmother who did not get the chance to study till she turned 60 – a not an all-too-uncommon occurrence in Indian homes. Thus, Everyday Reading and the magazines it studies also serve as a reminder of the long and hard-fought struggle for women's literacy in India, and the difficult work that remains to this day to truly “democratise” reading.

Everyday Reading: Middlebrow Magazines and Book Publishing in Post-Independence India, Aakriti Mandhwani, Speaking Tiger Books.