When Sanid Asif Ali was invited to a library in Kochi a few years ago to give a talk on comics, he was introduced as an artist who would take the audience into a ‘world of laughter’. Ali gets it. “One of the first comics that most people in Kerala enjoyed is the classic Boban & Molly by the artist Toms, which is filled with humour and satire,” says the comics creator, who co-founded Studio Niyet, an independent comics publishing house in the city, with his wife. “So, people have this association between comics and comedy.”
Last December, when he and Tony Davis, one of the organisers of Indie Comix Fest, went on a radio show to promote the event in Kochi, the radio jockey was fascinated that her guests were not stand-up comics. “This is the first time I’m listening to two people talking very seriously about comics,” the RJ told them. “We then talked about books like Maus: A Survivor’s Tale [about author Art Spiegelman’s father Vladek, a Jewish survivor of Hitler’s Europe] and Persepolis [Marjane Satrapi’s graphic memoir of growing up in Iran during the Islamic Revolution] that deal with serious themes,” he says.
(L-R) Sanid Asif Ali, Tony Davis and Unkoolie
This realisation that comics are not for laughs, but deal with strong, sometimes heavy, themes such as sociopolitical satire, feminism, queer identity, sexual abuse, biography and more, is slowly percolating. And that comics can go beyond just superheroes, especially those from the Marvel and DC multiverse. Independent comic book festivals are playing a large part in this.
Indie Comix Fest (ICF), an annual creator-run festival of self-published comics begun by a small group of enthusiasts from Mumbai in 2017, has now grown into a nationwide phenomenon — with editions in Delhi, Bengaluru, Chennai, Kochi, Kozhikode and Ahmedabad. “Unlike Comic Con, which is a buyer and merchandise-oriented event, ICF is for creators. The Kochi edition began in 2018, and last year we had over 36 creators participate,” says Davis, adding that Bengaluru and Mumbai attract the most number of artists — with numbers going above 100.
Indie Comix Fest Kochi
Indie Comix Fest Kozhikode
The cognoscenti and the curious drop by in equal measure, and each is distinct. For instance, Kochi attracts a lot of young IT professionals and people from film and advertising; Delhi has more students walking in, and a younger set with a budget in mind. “Bengaluru has some good creators now like Sumit Kumar of Bakarmax and Rachita Taneja of Sanitary Panels, so it gives the city some heft,” says Bengaluru-based graphic novelist George Mathen, better known by his pen name Appupen. “But Kerala is suddenly picking up. For instance, a community called Indy Comics Commune has meet-ups, 24-hour marathons, and comic farms [two-day events where artists get together to create a 12-page comic]. I hear ICF is also expanding to Thiruvananthapuram. I am expecting some nice things from Kerala.”
Appupen | Photo Credit: Sudhakara Jain
Tracking its history
Indie Comix Fest Delhi
Buzzing creator scene
When I arrive in Kochi a little before Christmas of 2024, the Party Congress has just concluded, and there are red sashes everywhere, tied to posts and around the trunks of coconut trees. Stars of both denominations — Communist and Christian — light up the evening sky. They seem to break up the city into a series of precise compositions, a sequence of panels, defined by gutter spaces and boundaries, like a page in a comic.
As a creator, I am drawn as much by curiosity to see how the market has evolved as the desire to present my own work. As I look at the teeming crowds at the venue, Ali tells me that there has been a drop in numbers since the 2023 edition (which had over 46 creators participating). One possible reason: the rule that no merchandise can be sold. “We began the fest to promote comics, and we didn’t want that objective to be diluted,” shares Davis, explaining that creators hand out free merchandise with the comics.
Comics at ICF Kochi
I think about my own childhood: Amar Chitra Katha, Commando, Tintin, and of course, Indrajal. The idea that we could make comics ourselves was remote, though there were examples such as Tinkle and Bahadur. Then came the wave of Indian graphic novels, the modern canon of Sarnath Bannerjee, Appupen, and Amruta Patil. But now there is this subterranean current fuelled by exchanges between the online and offline world. Ali, for instance, started off by putting up comic strips on Instagram. When Davis invited him to participate in Kochi’s first ICF, he suggested that Ali could print and compile the strips. “I said no, I will bring out a 20-page comic,” Ali shares.
Visitors at ICF Delhi
At the fest, I set up my stock with friend and fellow artist Kishore Mohan, with whom I’m collaborating on a graphic novel. We keep a folder of our work-in-progress open on the table, discreetly gauging people’s reactions as they leaf through them. For a writer/artist, this kind of real-time feedback is invaluable. At the next table is artist Roshan Kurichiyanil, an animation director and Kerala state award winning children’s book artist, who has worked with clients across the world. Soon parents with kids in tow are snapping up his Taara of the Stars, a series featuring children embarking on fantastical adventures. My other neighbour is selling a graphic novel written by stand-up comedian Varun Grover called Karejwa; I take advantage of our proximity to read it — a rollicking ride about black holes and gulab jamuns converging in Varanasi.
Karejwa
Varun Grover
The artists at the fest are of every stripe: veterans with a slightly jaded air, first-timers showing their work with a mix of pride and shyness. At one table, two teenagers are racking up brisk sales with their hand-drawn, stapled ‘minis’ — ‘remakes’ of OTT shows like The Penguin or video games such as the Mafia, into which one of the artists has drawn himself as a character.
A comic remake of The Penguin
At another table, visual designer Aparna Thankaraj shows MissAndroid, with its iridescently coloured pages, set in “a world where all the women are robots”. Mohith O., an architect, shows his accordion-like construction; the two sides have the same story but with differing POVs. The highly idiosyncratic nature of the fest means that non-standard formats are the norm.
Mohith O.’s accordion-style comic
Aparna Thankaraj’s MissAndroid
Uptick in analysis and critique
Platforms for all ages
Creators agree that a sequential art renaissance is happening across the country. “It’s a compound effect,” feels Tina Thomas, who co-founded Studio Kokaachi, a visual storytelling studio in Kochi, with her husband Pratheek Thomas. “When I was growing up, engineering and medicine were the only preferred choices. Now, education is diversifying and design is a big thing. Students graduating from the many design schools in India are finding lucrative career opportunities [in corporates, animation studios and the like].”
Tina and Pratheek Thomas
Movies, film festivals, and art biennales are also adding to the conversation, and changing mindsets. “The Kochi-Muziris Biennale, for one, has changed the way people perceive art and artists in the city. While earlier, they thought an artist had no future, now parents are recognising talent in their children and encouraging them to nurture it.”
A sense of democracy is one of the foundations of indie festivals. For instance, last year saw a trio of Class V students exhibiting their comic alongside a 62-year-old creator at ICF Kochi, while their youngest has been a nine-year-old. “Such spaces are much-needed,” says Tina. She recalls when her husband Pratheek had taken Hush, a comic about child sexual abuse, to the first edition of Comic Con in New Delhi in 2011. It had sold out. “We had such high hopes [for the festival], but then it evolved into something else. Comic Con isn’t really helping comic creators, but promoting merchandise and the like.”
Studio Kokaachi’s Matchbox Comix
Stall costs are high, with premium places in the front going for ₹70,000. “The small stalls at the back are what Indian comic companies can afford. By the time people reach there, they would have already spent all their money on merch, with nothing left for comics.” While Comic Con does offer free stalls, it is only for those who can participate in all five cities. A publisher can afford the deal, but not an indie creator — with flight tickets and accommodation adding to the budget. “At ICF, you can choose the city you want to show at, and at ₹750 for a stall, it’s affordable. The only criteria is that you have a comic, even if it is just four pages,” she says.
Bengaluru Comic Con 2025
Mainstream vs. indie
Today, comics open plenty of doors. “I write for films now, and my first screenplay was announced a year ago. It’s all because of our comics. In fact, [director] Mani Ratnam got in touch with us to do the animation for OK Kanmani because one of our Matchbox Comix creators recommended our work,” Tina says.
But the door remains closed when it comes to mainstream publishers. “Most don’t want to invest in graphic novels because they believe it is a niche medium, and will not attract too many readers. The cost of production is high [since it is in colour and needs special attention because of its panels and placement], and books will be priced higher because they have to factor in the cost of drawing,” she says.
Studio Kokaachi’s Mixtape comics
Small zines aren’t picked either because these would get lost in big stores such as Crossword. For an artist to create a book of 150 pages, they have to put in a minimum of two years. And there is no guarantee that at the end of it, they will be picked up! “Working with mainstream publishers on a graphic novel, your advance will be abysmal. They won’t do any marketing for you,” adds Delhi-based writer-illustrator Anupam Arunachalam. “They are not used to editing comics, so you won’t get much editorial help too.”
Guide for creators
‘Self publish or perish’
American comic book creator Becky Cloonan has the quote printed on the back cover of her books. And many creators in India agree with it. It’s not only production costs, but also plotlines that can keep publishers away. “You don’t get to see a lot of personal stories in mainstream comics. Or [if they make it], they are tangential or entangled with some big historical event, like Maus or The Arab of the Future,” says Arunachalam. “But at the comic fest, you get small, personal stories — not only autobiographical, but also unusual.”
Of course, there are exceptions. Joshy Benedict, an animator and comic book creator from Kozhikode — whose film A Coconut Tree won the National Award for Best Animated Short Film last year — got a book deal with Harper Collins after he participated in ICF. He wrote and hand-illustrated The Pig Flip in 2013, but once done no publisher wanted it. “In 2018, ICF asked me to bring the book to the festival. When I told them I didn’t have a physical copy, they asked me to bring two digital prints. So many people showed interest that I had to get their addresses, print more copies, and send it to them,” he says with a laugh. As interest picked up, someone suggested he get the book translated into English and approach publishers again. This time, HarperCollins picked it up.
The Pig Flip
“Things are changing today, but it is slow,” says Benedict, who has another graphic novel out in Malalyalam called Koprachevu. “People have to see comics and graphic novels like they would regular novels. In Japan, everybody reads manga; that should happen here too. And more festivals like ICF will help in that.”
Joshy Benedict
“[In Kerala] people rush to places where literature is being discussed. We love art, we read a lot. However, comics were not considered a literary medium because no one attempted to tell a serious story through it. But recently, [with exposure] people are exploring it as one. The medium now has to be pushed more, has to be experimented on more.”Roshan KurichiyaniArtist and children’s book creator
Roshan Kurichiyani (left) and fellow comic artist Mohith O. at ICF Kochi
Back in Kochi
In the week before ICF, the handful of good printers in the city are flooded with work. “All the creators are there; it almost becomes like a meeting place,” says Tina. She talks about artists gathering around offset printers, swapping stories, and staying all night to get their books ready. And at the festival, where books are priced between ₹100 and ₹600 (a rare few go up to ₹1,500), they sell quickly, artists’ e-pay apps beeping with notifications.
As the fest winds down, with empty tables denoting sold-out artists, I wonder if the saturation of digital media today has led to a kind of backlash — a need for the physicality of things. “Absolutely,” says Ali. “People came to my stall and just smelled the book for a minute. They just crave that, the look and feel of a book.”
Jaideep Unudurti is a writer and graphic novelist.
Published - March 21, 2025 03:58 pm IST
