‘Decisions are driven more by significance than hype’: How India collects rare, antiquarian books

Memoirs of India, an emporium of rare and antiquarian books, was started by Rajiv Jain in 1967. The emporium is now managed by Rishabh Jain and Rashi Jain Dugar, the third-generation of the family associated with the venture.

In addition to selling rare books, Memoirs of India also helps customers with valuation, restoration, binding, and fine framing. The family provides “counsel on all aspects of book collecting and related pursuits.” They have also been able to build an extraordinary collection of original first editions, signed copies, art, plate books and fine binding sets of incomparable quality. Along with literary titles, there are rare and antiquarian maps, as well as books in natural history, travel and exploration, architecture, politics, economics, philosophy, medicine, archaeology, and more genres to be found here. A vast collection of colonial era writings by the likes of Thomas and William Daniel, John Gould, William Hodges, Alex Soltykoff, Henry Salt, and James Fraser, among others holds a prime place in the emporium’s collection.

Today, Memoirs of India is among the largest of its kind in India. With the launch of an e-commerce site, the rare books have found takers across the world. In a conversation with Scroll, Rishabh Jain talked about the value of “cultural memory”, the day in the life of a rare books seller, and why physical books will never just be “curios.” Excerpts from the interview:

How did you get around to collecting rare books? The first books in your collection came from a Parsi doctor, and what was it about them that felt worth preserving?
The earliest books that came into our care belonged to a Parsi doctor who had built his library over a lifetime of reading, travel, and curiosity. What stood out was not just the age of the books, but the way they had been kept with intention. Margins carried notes, bookplates marked ownership, and the selection itself reflected a mind shaped by medicine, history, and literature. These were not decorative objects. They had been read, returned to, and respected. That mattered. From the beginning, the idea was never about accumulation. It was about recognising when a book carries more than text when it holds context, voice, and continuity. Those early volumes made it clear that once such collections are dispersed carelessly, something irreplaceable is lost. Preserving them felt less like a choice and more like a responsibility that had quietly arrived.

What are some of the sources or avenues that are indispensable to the work you do? Do you work with a network of book collectors, archivists, and booksellers?
This work cannot be done in isolation. Over time, a quiet network develops, collectors who trust you, archivists who alert you to material at risk, booksellers who understand what matters beyond price. Many of these relationships are built slowly, often without transactions for years. Information travels through conversations. Sometimes it is a family unsure of what to do with a personal library. Sometimes it is a collector looking for a specific gap to be filled. Provenance checks, cross-referencing catalogues, consulting institutional records are all part of the process. There is also a lot of listening involved. People tend to open up when they realise the intention is preservation, not quick resale. That trust becomes the most valuable source of all.

This must be time-consuming work. How does an average day in your life as a book collector look?
There is no fixed structure to the day, which is perhaps the most consistent thing about it. Some days are spent entirely with books, cataloguing, examining bindings, checking condition, researching editions. Other days involve long conversations, often over tea, where nothing is bought or sold, but a relationship is strengthened. A large part of the day goes into documentation: verifying dates, publishers, print histories, ownership marks. There are interruptions, calls about estates, photographs sent for opinion, unexpected visits. Travel is frequent but rarely planned far in advance. The work demands patience. Nothing moves quickly, nor should it. Books arrive on their own timeline, and most days are spent preparing for something that may surface months or even years later.

Have you ever encountered a frustrating dead end? What is the most extreme length you have gone to secure a rare book?
Dead ends are common and expected. Many leads dissolve quietly. A book that exists in records may never resurface, or it may have been lost long ago. Frustration usually comes when material is known to exist but is being mishandled or misunderstood.

The lengths taken are rarely dramatic, but they are persistent. There have been cases where years of follow-up were needed, checking in periodically without pressure, allowing families time to decide. In one instance, access was gained only after assisting with sorting and documenting an entire collection without any assurance of purchase. The effort is justified because once a book is damaged, dispersed, or exported carelessly, it cannot be recovered. Persistence, not urgency, is what secures rare material.

India does not have a robust library system. What role does someone like you play in preserving history and cultural memory?
The absence of a strong public library and archival framework places greater responsibility on individuals and private institutions. In this space, the role is not to replace libraries, but to act as an intermediary, rescuing material that might otherwise be lost, neglected, or broken apart. Many books survive only because they passed through private hands that valued them. The work involves identifying what matters, stabilising it, and ensuring it continues to circulate among people who will care for it. Cultural memory does not survive through celebration alone. It survives through careful storage, accurate documentation, and continuity of ownership. This role is quiet and often invisible, but it fills a gap that currently exists between private collections and institutional preservation.

How do you work with conservation, restoring, binding, and maintaining fragile material, especially in New Delhi’s climate?
Conservation begins with restraint. The first step is always to do as little as possible. Many books show age, and that is part of their integrity. Restoration is only considered when damage threatens the structure or legibility. Work is done with specialists who understand traditional materials: paper, cloth, leather and avoid modern shortcuts.

New Delhi’s climate is unforgiving. Heat, humidity, and pollution require constant monitoring. Storage conditions are adjusted seasonally. Books are handled sparingly and rotated when necessary. Preventive care matters more than repair. Binding is approached with caution, ensuring that the original character of the book is retained. Conservation is ongoing, not a one-time task, and it demands attention every day.

Since you also sell these rare books, could you give us a peek into the rare books market in India?
The rare books market in India remains small but serious. Most collectors are deeply informed and focused on specific subjects, such as colonial history, travel, early Indian printing, cartography, or literature. There is less speculative buying compared to international markets. Collectors tend to hold onto material for long periods. Price sensitivity exists, but so does an understanding of value.

Books with strong provenance, early editions, or unique associations attract consistent interest. Institutional buying is limited, which affects circulation. While prices have increased over the years, decisions are still driven more by significance than hype. The market rewards patience and knowledge rather than volume.

JK Rowling’s first Harry Potter book is among the priciest in your catalogue. How do you decide the rate of a certain book?
Pricing is never based on popularity alone. The first step is identifying the exact edition, printing, and condition. With modern books, small variations matter greatly. Market history is studied, previous sales, international benchmarks, and availability. Provenance plays a role as well. A book’s condition is assessed conservatively. Sentiment does not dictate price, but neither does speculation. The aim is to arrive at a number that reflects rarity, demand, and long-term value rather than momentary excitement. A well-priced book should feel fair to both buyer and seller, and should stand the test of time without regret on either side.

The family has been collecting for nearly 60 years. What lesson would you share about keeping passion alive?
Passion lasts when it is not forced. Collecting cannot be rushed or constantly justified. There are long periods when nothing significant is acquired, and that is part of the process. Curiosity needs space to mature. Over time, priorities shift from acquiring to understanding, from ownership to stewardship. It also helps to remain humble before the material. Books outlast individuals. When the focus stays on care rather than possession, fatigue does not set in as easily. Patience, restraint, and respect are what sustain the work over decades.

How has digitalisation shaped your work? Do you feel physical books will become curios?
Digitalisation has changed access, not relevance. It allows research to happen faster and helps connect collections across geographies. Catalogues can travel where books cannot. That has been helpful. However, physical books are not interchangeable with digital copies. Paper, binding, annotations, and wear carry information that scans cannot capture. Books are not curios; they are records. As long as history is studied seriously, original material will remain essential. Digital tools assist preservation, but they do not replace it. The two work best when they support each other.