Before you read the book, you admire his art. Meet Ahlawat Gunjan — the designer behind India’s iconic Booker-winning covers

I don’t see a book cover as mere packaging. Infact, it is a process with its own structure and identity—an organizing principle that shapes the author’s message and gives the words a face. A face that appears before the book is even opened. In that moment, the cover becomes critical: it must resonate, invite, and persuade. Therefore, originality isn’t optional; it’s the lifeline for any designer. In a culture drowning in sameness, repetition is death. Everything looks familiar, everything is a scroll, a swipe, a déjà vu. To cut through, a designer needs to think differently, organically, trust the intuition and take the risk. That’s where design lives, where risk becomes clarity and the unexpected becomes inevitable.

Deepa Basti floated the idea of pomegranate seeds. Iterations of the cover design. (Photo courtesy: Ahlawat Gunjan)

You have just released a special edition cover for Heart Lamp. Could you walk us through the concept development? What key visual or emotional cues did you want to capture on the cover, and how did you zero in on the motif of a pomegranate?

Design is a collaborative process and more so at a publishing house. You work with various stakeholders (from editors, to sales, author and the translator). In this case too, Deepa Basti floated the idea of pomegranate seeds and editor mentioned it in the cover brief. Upon reading the manuscript, I came to realize the beauty and meaning in the suggestion.

The stories in Heart Lamp stayed with me—their quiet power, their exploration of womanhood, love, loss, and the weight of tradition. There’s so much tenderness in the way Mushtaq writes the everyday, and so much strength in her characters’ silences. I kept returning to the image of a pomegranate—bold, vibrant, full of life, but also fragile.

I took a full-colour illustration and layered it with delicate line motifs to reflect the duality at the heart of the title story. For me, it became a way to hold the warmth, the resilience and the transformation that runs through the collection. This cover is my response to Mushtaq’s world. I hope it invites readers in as gently and powerfully as her stories do.

The cover of Geetanjali Shree’s Tomb of Sand. (Source: champaca.in)

When you first received the brief (or manuscript) for Tomb of Sand what struck you most, and how did that first impression shape your design direction?

As far as possible, I wish to imagine an author’s story as my own. When I paint, I develop a certain attachment to my work. Designing a book cover is no different to me. I try to transport myself into a space where there is a desire to tell the story in the best possible way. I try not to get lost in the web of imagery that the narrative has to offer, but instead work with a few clear themes that represent the core message of the book.

Narrative has a certain linearity to it, but as an informed and educated designer, you deploy ways and methods to unstick yourself—reading from anywhere, or even from back to front. You have many conversations—with yourself, the editor, and the author—until the right image or style snaps into focus.

The scene depicted on the cover is the one that stayed with me and spoke deeply. This book is about freedom—an eighty-year-old woman defying convention, boundaries, and borders of religion, nation, and gender. That spirit shaped the special edition: a flock of black crows in flight, a symbol of defiance and release.

The paperback takes another path—atmospheric, moody, rooted in the textures of the woman’s lived environment. The charged and layered cover photograph becomes both document and metaphor: every shadow, surface, and fragment of space signals the weight of her world. The photograph doesn’t illustrate; it suggests. Its atmosphere carries memory, its mood conveys constraint, and its framing hints at the boundaries she resists.

When you begin work on a new title, how much do you rely on reading the full manuscript versus working from a synopsis or conversations with the editor? How do you balance your creative instincts with the author’s vision, editorial input, and market considerations?

As a process, we begin by receiving a detailed cover brief from the editors, which includes inputs from Sales and the author. This brief also contains all book-related specifications—size, format (PB/HB), publication month, page extent, and budget.

For me, the process of designing a cover varies depending on whether it’s fiction or non-fiction. As a rule, I make it a point to read all fiction titles in order to get under the skin of the characters and truly connect with the heart of the story. While reading, visual themes often begin to emerge organically. Sometimes I start researching alongside my reading, and other times I begin only after finishing the manuscript. Much of the work happens in parallel, as I often go back and forth with the editor and the author while reading. My goal is to align everyone’s visual vision as closely as possible.

For non-fiction, reading the cover brief, introduction, or a few chapters usually sparks ideas. When needed, I browse the manuscript to extract themes worth exploring.

Although editors often share their suggestions for the cover, there is always openness to fresh, unusual, or new approaches. I strongly believe that design is a collaborative process and cannot happen in isolation (painting, on the other hand, is something I reserve for myself alone). Collaboration, however, goes beyond seeking approval on colors or fonts—it’s about discussing and arriving at a shared vision for the book’s message and positioning in the market. Since the cover gives a visual identity to years of an author’s work, involving them is not only beneficial but also respectful. I also value insights from the Sales team and, at times, from retailers.

That said, it is ultimately the designer’s role—and instinct—to filter, distill, and shape all these inputs into something striking, appropriate, and intellectually elegant. My design approach is slow, simple, and uncluttered, as I feel there is already enough visual noise in typography and imagery. Both require a balance of art and science, and I strive for clarity and simplicity above all.

It is always a bonus when the cover designer is an avid reader. It makes the process far more engaging, rewarding, and enjoyable. Having read the book also allows for more informed, thoughtful, and persuasive discussions and decisions throughout the design journey.

Over your career what major changes have you seen in the process or style of book cover designing? In an era where many readers first encounter a book as a thumbnail on a phone or laptop, how has that altered (if at all) the way covers are conceived?

I personally feel (and I believe many would quietly agree) that Sales intervention has grown significantly, and it isn’t benefiting the design process. While suggestions on a cover from their perspective are always welcome, the final call should rest with the design and editorial teams. After all, someone who can’t differentiate between Goudy and Garamond, cannot comment on the typography.

With so much of sales now happening online, it’s true that designers must consider the practical aspects of readability across digital platforms. A skilled designer carefully chooses fonts, colors, and imagery that are effective online while still ensuring the cover retains its integrity in print.

Arundhati Roy’s non-fiction box set. (Photo courtesy: Ahlawat Gunjan)

From your own portfolio, which three book covers remain your personal favourite, ones you would not change a thing about, even years later?

📌  Mir Taqi Mir by Ranjit Hoskote
📌  Arundhati Roy’s non-fiction box set
📌  Gun Island by Amitav Ghosh

One cover that was not chosen but you consider inspired..

The covers Ahlawat created for Knife by Salman Rushdie. (Photo courtesy: Ahlawat Gunjan)

Knife by Salman Rushdie. I continue to feel it was a strong and meaningful cover for our region, as the current one feels dull and brutal to me. But the publisher’s ego was larger than my passion and vision.

The proposed jacket operated with a distilled graphic intelligence: a cover that was conceptually sharp and visually economical, balancing wit with restraint. The design deployed metaphor with precision, ensuring that meaning unfolded through form. On the back, the author’s portrait, marked by the eye patch, grounded the spread with quiet but undeniable gravity, completing the narrative arc of the cover. Typography carried clarity and force, its rhythm reinforcing the blade-like tension of the design. The overall composition delivered a design statement that was both immediate and enduring: unmistakable in impact, yet sophisticated in execution.

The book covers of The Woman Destroyed, The Fraud  and Grief is the Thing with Feathers. (Source: amazon.in/faber.co.uk)

Name three book covers (not your own design) that you consider timeless?

📌 The Woman Destroyed by Simone De Beauvoir. Designed by Peter Mendelsund
📌 The Fraud by Zadie Smith. Designed by Jon Gray
📌 Grief is the Thing with Feathers by Max Porter. Designed and illustrated by Eleanor Crow