Just off the busy Punjagutta road, Aiwan-e-Urdu, formally known as the Idara-e-Adabiyat-e-Urdu, stands out for its architectural marvel. Its arched windows conceal one of the city’s most significant cultural repositories. Inside, rare manuscripts, calligraphy panels and ageing books hold stories from centuries past, even as the institution itself faces the challenge of survival in modern times.
A legacy of literature and art
Established in 1931 by Dr. Syed Mohiuddin Qadri Zore, on land gifted by his poet-wife Tahniyat-unnisa, Aiwan-e-Urdu was conceived as more than a library. It was to be a sanctuary for the literary heritage of the Deccan, extending to Persian, Dakhni, and Arabic works.
With a collection boasting nearly 50000 books, including 2600 rare manuscripts, its shelves cradle everything from philosophy and history to poetry and theology in Urdu, Persian, Arabic, and even Gurmukhi.
Its museum does not just display books, it tells Hyderabad’s cultural story through Deccani miniature paintings, calligraphy panels, Bidriware, coins, firmans, textiles, and ancient Ganjifa cards. These treasures echo with the city’s artistic spirit.
Aiwan-e-Urdu’s educational purpose remains tangible, too. A free two-year diploma in Urdu calligraphy teaches scripts such as Nastaliq, Khat-e-Shikasta, Kufi, mirror-writing, and the ornamental khat-e-gubar. Over 3500 students have learned from master scribe Abdul Ghaffar, who is both a student and teacher here.
A fading treasure
Beneath those historic arches is a fading world. Scholars note that the very volumes meant to preserve history are themselves vulnerable- the books are fragile, the ink fading, the bindings vulnerable to decay. Without urgent restoration, Hyderabad risks losing chapters of its cultural memory.
Footfalls in Aiwan-e-Urdu have also thinned. What was once a trek by scholars from across India, and even from countries like Japan, Egypt, Bangladesh, and Canada, is increasingly rare.
Thankfully, modern technology is providing a lifeline. Thanks to a collaboration with the Rekhta Foundation, over 22000 books and journals have been digitised, now accessible globally from any screen. They’re preserving those “dusty shelves” in digital form, one scan at a time.
Still, digital access cannot restore torn spines or quell the silence inside those reading halls. The quiet lets us feel the gap, but also why preservation matters, not just for words, but for the feel of ink on paper and the thrill of discovery.
