his is a simple story of a girl and her friends planning and then building a house for their other dear friend, Dubki, a dog. The girl, Yasmin, comes from a family of migrant workers, who have shifted to a new locality. Shubham Lakhera’s illustrations appear interesting for the colour palette used. But what I have to say about the book doesn’t end here. There was something inexplicable which I could not pin-point nor articulate, and yet did not sit right, seem right. The story did leave me conflicted and clueless. So much so that I resorted to help from my friends to be able to process and articulate it. The reflections I am about to share are from the round of reflection that the three of us had.
At first glance, the story seems to be trying to address what many of us have been talking about in the discourse of children’s literature. About what experiences reflect in stories, carrying whose voice, in what tone, how it is portrayed. Do we have stories from across diverse walks of life, from across diverse childhood experiences and social realities that further shape those experiences? But, upon a careful closer view, the story does reveal some unsettling concerns.
A friendship between human and other living beings, other animals, the warmth and care shared between them, and love, has many, many forms to manifest itself, many experiences and in many ways. It is intriguing that the author chose the idea of building the house for a dog, considering the context and life of the family being portrayed in the book. The observation remains noticed but unanswered.
‘We hear a giggle… we do hear the word “Junglee”. Ali and Nabila ignore the taunt…But I run indoors and curl up in a corner… when didi comes by I wrap my hands around her and cry. “Ei why bother? She asks.”’
Umm… There could have been anger experienced, for the disgust shown for them. Could we not have considered that as a possibility? What was the author thinking when she chose to show that Nabila and Ali ignored the taunt? Was it a deliberate choice to choose ignorance over a spectrum of emotions that could have been felt upon hearing something taunt-like and hurtful said for someone?
The next sentence says, ‘Abbu says we are like Dubki—wild and free.’ Well, sure. But where is the author coming from here? What have been their experiences with the kind of life they are talking about in the story? What and how much is the exposure? And is it fair to attempt at glorifying, philosophizing something that we may not have a closer idea of?
At one point Yasmin says, ‘I ask them why we have to live here when they help build sturdy brick houses for others.’ The parents’ response to this is, ‘Because we have to save money, Yasmin. So that you can go to school. So that you won’t have to do the kind of work we do when you grow up.’ Particularly in children’s books where words are few and carefully crafted, one wonders what choice is being made in saying that the parents choose to live under a tin roof, and how this narrative portrays the grim reality of labour, migration and deeply stratified society—priced at INR 215 for an urban, obviously middle class child to consume.
When the children begin building the house, it ends up reproducing the parents’ occupation and Dubki’s house being the same as Yasmin’s house. This creates another deeply unsettling parallel between Dubki and Yasmin, besides them being ‘wild and free’.
‘We hang Ammi’s torn dupatta as a shade from the sun. Jacob runs home and returns with an old cushion for Dubki.’ Well, unconsciously this brings out the way the characters’ lived reality is being perceived by the author. Why is it a ‘torn’ dupatta and not just Ammi’s dupatta? And why is it an ‘old cushion’ when it could have possibly been old and rugged? (As shown in the story, Yasmin and Jacob belong to different economic backgrounds and the articulation reinforces a very problematic view of economic diversity subtly.)
The story shows that children from two different economic backgrounds become friends. There’re Yasmin, Nabila and Ali, and then there are Jacob, Sareeka and Nooreen. Yet another intriguing question is, why did the author feel the need to introduce the latter three? Could it not have been a story of just the first three and Dubki? When Yasmin is ‘shooed’ by the guard, the latter three come to the rescue with a cardboard box from the new washing machine. When there isn’t space for agency and dignity of the portrayed migrant life, what ends up happening?
To us, the story posed a complex scenario of intentions and choices: the choice of milestones, characters and the stand the story does/does not take, and the articulations contradict what we would like to assume was the intention of bringing out a story attempting to address the presence of diverse realities and experiences.