Physics student, illustrator and co-founder of Delhi Zine Collective, Borishan Ghosh believes a folded sheet of paper can still command attention like no Instagram post could.
For Borishan Ghosh, a piece of paper is never just a piece of paper. Fold it the right way and it
might just change your life.
Zines first entered Ghosh’s life when his friend Rinchan, sick of being limited to Canva posts in
the name of art, first showed him one she had made. There isn’t anything remarkable about a
zine. Essentially a mini-magazine, it is composed of a single hand-designed A4 sheet folded
into shape.
“Everyone asks us how we sell this stuff,” laughs the young co-founder of Delhizine, the largest
charitable student-run collective of its kind. Pop-up stalls full of these tiny zines have often
attracted the confused customer, but in that moment of amusement lies the zine’s power. Ghosh
goes on to explain, “I know that every customer of ours has read the zine they bought from
cover-to-cover. Once you hold it in your hand, you don’t have anything to do but read it. It’s
more than you can say for any Instagram post.”
There is something about zines that feels refreshingly authentic in today’s content landscape.
Zines began in the late 1930s as ‘fanzines’, where science-fiction fans discussed novels and
theories at a fraction of the cost of formal publications. It was this accessibility and immense
scope for distribution that fascinated Ghosh and Rinchan. Anybody could have a piece of art out
on a two-rupee printer sheet. Impressed by the sheer heart of the concept, Ghosh decided to
give it a shot himself, uploading his onto a scrappy website he built. From there, things started
falling into place almost by accident.
Today, the Delhi Zine Collective collaborates with various organisations and collectives to
design, produce, and distribute zines, often centred around personal memoirs, political causes
or sheer whimsy. The project has brought together a community of artists and writers. Yet,
according to Ghosh, much of it happened organically. “We barely did any marketing,” he says.
“We just made an email domain and people started writing to us.”
The people he meets have become his favourite part of the project. Zines, he believes, allow
people to reveal parts of themselves they would never otherwise share. Contributors send in
pieces about everyday memories, personal struggles, or fleeting observations — be it a
bittersweet goodbye to an apartment cat or creative interpretations of one’s gender identity.
Holding a finished zine often changes how they see their own writing and art.
“There are literally no rules to zines,” Ghosh says. “You’ve lived seventeen years on this
planet—you already have something to say.”
For Ghosh, the zine is simply another extension of an ever-restless curiosity. A physics student
who illustrates, writes, and reads philosophy with equal enthusiasm, he has never been
comfortable being told what to create—something he says is partly why he repeatedly failed
formal art exams. That independence now defines the ethos of DelhiZine. With plans to pursue
a master’s in mathematics while continuing the project remotely, Ghosh seems unfazed by the
logistics. When asked how he would balance it all, he shrugs it off: “It’s not that hard. You just
staple a bunch of papers.”
Profiled by: Anjali Paruvvu