A Heritage Fading from the Pages

 A Heritage Fading from the Pages

In recent years, a deeply neglected loss has been occurring in India—and especially in Maharashtra: the loss of books. In natural disasters such as floods, cyclones, and excessive rainfall, many rare, old manuscripts and books have been permanently destroyed. Some of these books were such that when they disappeared, an entire era and a whole stream of thought vanished along with them.

Today, we stand at the threshold of the digital age, yet the number of people working toward the preservation of books is steadily declining. It is as if books have become mere objects to be stored in cupboards; we are slowly forgetting their living presence and their true value.

“A word written on paper does not die;

it continues to breathe in human memory.”

Yet, tragically, many libraries, ancient manuscripts, and religious and historical texts have been burned during agitation, strikes, and religious or regional conflicts. Fire does not consume only paper—it consumes thought, dialogue, and culture. Some was burned, some was washed away, and some was destroyed simply by our indifference.

Today, we have tools such as the internet, scanning, digital archives, and cloud storage at our disposal. Still, in reality, the work of book preservation is happening in very few places and on a very limited scale. We assume, “Someone else will do it.” But that “someone” is rarely found.

A question often arises in my mind—

Researchers like Maruti Chitampalli and Dr. Salim Ali devoted their entire lives to birds, animals, and forests. But how many people have dedicated their lives to books, manuscripts, folk literature, and knowledge traditions? Why are there so few hands to carry forward their legacy?

“The one who protected forests became a sage,

but the one who protects words became rare.”

Books are not merely arrangements of letters; they are testimonies of experiences, struggles, and discoveries. The destruction of a book is not the silence of one person, but the silence of an entire generation. Today, we read less—and we preserve even less.

Once in my life, I visited an abandoned mansion in an old village. There, I saw some torn books lying in dust. Their pages were damp, their letters faded. At that moment, I realized—these books had no enemy; their enemy was our forgetfulness.

“When a book is not burned, the question remains—

are we the ones slowly killing it?”

Today, there is a need to look at books once again as living beings. To use digital media wisely, while preserving original texts, and to give libraries the reverence of temples. Otherwise, tomorrow, when we try to tell our children about history, all we will be able to say is—

“All this once existed in books… but those books did not survive.”

— Kedar Kulkarni