I walked into the bookstore looking for a Kannada novel.

Not a rare one. Not out of print. Just a good contemporary novel someone had recommended. I expected to find it easily. After all, we’re a country of 22 officially recognized languages, hundreds of dialects, and thousands of publishers.

Instead, I found three shelves.

Three shelves for “Indian Languages.” Everything else, thrillers, romance, business, and self-help all were in English.

I asked the storekeeper, a man who looked like he had been standing behind that counter since the Emergency.

“Do you have more Kannada titles?” I asked.

He smiled. “We have what sells.”

And that, as it turns out, is where this story really begins.

“It’s Not That We Don’t Have Books”

The storekeeper leaned back in his chair and gestured toward the store.

“People think Indian language books are not available,” he said. “That’s not true. They exist. They just don’t move the way English books move.”

Here’s the first uncomfortable truth: discoverability is tied to demand velocity.

If a book sells 200 copies a month, it stays on the front table.

If it sells 20 copies a year, it goes to the corner or into a box in the godown.

This isn’t about culture. It’s about economics.

Most independent bookstores operate on thin margins, often 30–40% on MRP, and that’s before rent, salaries, and inventory risk. Stocking slow-moving titles locks up capital. And Indian-language titles, especially literary fiction or poetry, often sell in smaller, more scattered quantities.

So bookstores stock cautiously.

“What if I want something specific?” I asked.

“Then I ordered it for you,” he said. “But most people don’t ask.”

The Distribution Maze Nobody Talks About

Let’s break this down.

In India, distribution for English-language publishing is relatively streamlined. Large publishers, such as Penguin Random House India and HarperCollins India, work with national distributors. Their catalogues are digitally indexed. Retailers can check availability in minutes. Even they have their own challenges...

Regional publishing doesn’t always have that luxury.

A Kannada publisher in Hubballi may distribute primarily in Karnataka. A Bengali publisher in Kolkata may focus on West Bengal and parts of the Northeast. Cross-state logistics is expensive. Returns are costly. Payment cycles are long.

The storekeeper put it simply:

“English books travel. Regional books often stay home.”

Let me ask you,

We have many non-Kannada speakers. Have you seen them buying their language book in Bangalore?

This creates a paradox. A brilliant Marathi novel may be thriving in Pune but remain invisible in Delhi. A Tamil bestseller may never reach Jaipur unless someone consciously curates it.

The issue isn’t absence. It’s fragmentation.

Print Runs and Risk

Here’s another number most readers don’t know: many Indian language books are printed in runs of 500 to 2,000 copies.

Compare that with large English trade titles that may have print runs of 5,000 to 10,000 copies.

Lower print runs mean:

1. Higher per-unit cost
2. Lower marketing budgets
3. Fewer review copies
4. Limited visibility

The storekeeper told me something revealing.

“When English publishers send me catalogues, they follow up. They offer schemes. Buy ten, get two free. Regional publishers? Many don’t have that budget.”

Marketing drives memory. Memory drives demand. Demand drives shelf space.

When that cycle is weak, visibility suffers.

“But Online, Everything Is Available, No?”

That was my next question.

Surely online platforms solve this.

He laughed.

“Go search,” he said.

So I did.

Search engines are not neutral. They respond to data density, SEO strength, metadata quality, reviews, and sales velocity.

Many Indian language publishers, especially smaller ones, don’t optimise their listings. Titles may appear with inconsistent spellings. Author names may not be standardised. Categories are sometimes misaligned.

For example, a Hindi literary novel may get buried under “General Books.” A Tamil political memoir might not include proper English transliteration of keywords.

Algorithms reward structure.

And structure requires digital literacy, consistent metadata, ISBN tagging, genre classification, and review aggregation.

Without that, discoverability drops dramatically.

There are platforms like Rachnaye that are dedicated to fixing this, but they still have a long way to go.

Yes, I didn't disclose my connection to Rachnaye because I cannot disagree with what he mentioned.

The Language Barrier in Search

Here’s something subtle but powerful.

Most users search in English, even when they want a regional book.

If someone types:

“Best contemporary Assamese novels”

Will the algorithm connect that to an Assamese-language book whose metadata is entirely in Assamese script?

Not always.

Transliteration gaps create visibility gaps.

This is where platforms designed for Indian language ecosystems can make a difference. Structured metadata in multiple scripts. Genre tagging. Search optimisation in both native language and Roman transliteration. Recommendation engines built around linguistic diversity rather than default English dominance.

Without this layer, quality books remain buried.

Perception Plays a Role Too

The storekeeper lowered his voice.

“There’s another thing,” he said. “Young readers sometimes feel English books are aspirational.”

Let’s not pretend this doesn’t matter.

English has been tied to education, mobility, and status in India since colonial times. The shadow of Thomas Babington Macaulay still lingers in policy and perception.

When English becomes the language of opportunity, regional languages are often unfairly framed as nostalgic, local, or “less modern.”

That affects buying behaviour.

Parents may buy English children’s books believing they offer an academic advantage, even if regional stories offer a deeper cultural grounding.

This perception gap contributes to slower retail movement, and slower movement reduces shelf presence.

Curation vs. Chaos

I asked him a final question before we shifted to tea.

“Is it a supply problem, demand problem, or visibility problem?”

He smiled.

“It’s a curation problem.”

When books are not intentionally curated, they disappear into the noise.

English books benefit from:

1. Influencer marketing
2. Bestseller lists
3. Award circuits
4. Media coverage
5. Literary festivals

Regional literature has award ecosystems, think of institutions like Sahitya Akademi, but the marketing bridge between award and retail shelf isn’t always strong.

A Sahitya Akademi award-winning novel may not automatically land on front tables across India.

Recognition does not always equal retail visibility.

The Online Marketplace Trap

We moved to the online angle again.

Large marketplaces prioritise velocity. If a book doesn’t sell quickly, it sinks in rankings.

Fewer reviews mean lower trust signals.

Lower trust signals mean fewer clicks.

Fewer clicks mean lower visibility.

It’s a feedback loop.

And then there’s stock synchronisation. Smaller publishers may not integrate real-time inventory systems. Out-of-stock listings frustrate buyers. Buyers stop searching.

Over time, the narrative forms:

“Indian language books are hard to find.”

Even when they exist.

The Translation Bottleneck

Another dimension: translation flow.

Many regional works remain untranslated into English or other Indian languages. So readers outside a linguistic community never encounter them.

Meanwhile, foreign classics, often in the public domain, are widely translated and distributed because copyright costs are low.

The storekeeper shrugged.

“Sometimes it’s easier to sell Tolstoy than a living Kannada author.”

That sentence stayed with me.

When translation budgets are limited, publishers make strategic bets. And risk often tilts toward established names.

Logistics and Returns

Books are not just stories. They are physical inventory.

In India’s retail model, unsold books are often returnable. Returns eat margins. Shipping across states adds cost. Smaller publishers hesitate to distribute nationally without guaranteed movement.

This creates geographic silos.

A reader in Guwahati may struggle to find a Gujarati novel unless a store consciously curates across regions.

Without infrastructure, access narrows.

Data: The Invisible Gap

Let’s look at a broader pattern.

India’s English publishing industry is estimated to be a significant segment of the organised trade market. Regional language publishing, though culturally massive, remains fragmented and under-documented.

Reliable sales data for regional books is sparse. Bestseller lists rarely integrate multilingual data comprehensively.

Without data, investment is cautious.

Without investment, marketing is minimal.

Without marketing, discoverability remains weak.

It’s not a quality issue.

It’s an ecosystem issue.

Here, I felt that we (Rachnaye) are on the right track, it's just the time...

A Quiet Shift Is Happening

The conversation wasn’t entirely bleak.

The storekeeper told me regional book fairs still draw crowds. School initiatives increasingly encourage reading in mother tongues. Digital writing platforms are helping writers publish without gatekeeping.

There is renewed interest in linguistic identity.

And readers are asking more questions.

“What else do you have in Kannada?”

“Can you order this Marathi memoir?”

“Do you stock Assamese poetry?”

Demand begins with curiosity.

Curiosity begins with visibility.

So Why Do Indian Language Books Feel Hard to Find?

Let’s answer this clearly (for readers—and search engines):

Indian language books feel hard to find because of fragmented distribution, limited marketing budgets, low digital optimization, transliteration challenges in search, perception biases toward English, and inconsistent national curation.

They exist.

But the systems that surface them are uneven.

When infrastructure meets intent, discoverability improves.

Leaving the Store

I paid for a book I hadn’t planned to buy.

He wrapped it in brown paper.

“Ask more often,” he said. “We can’t stock what nobody asks for.”

As I stepped out, I realized something uncomfortable.

Maybe Indian language books don’t just feel hard to find because of publishers or algorithms.

Maybe we’ve grown used to not looking hard enough.

The ecosystem has cracks. Distribution needs reform. Online discoverability must improve. Curation must become deliberate.

But readers also shape shelves.

If we ask, review, recommend, and search intentionally, shelves respond.

I turned back once to wave.

“Thank you,” I said.

And as I walked away, I kept thinking:

In a country that speaks in hundreds of tongues, why should any voice be difficult to find?