Amrutash Misra

Teaching Pa is the story of Diya and her father, unfolding how she managed and succeeded in teaching her father, in spite of his efforts to skip the maths sessions. It is sweet of Diya to decide to teach her father and make all the efforts to make it happen. Another interesting thing is how she makes use of pea pods, and other examples from kitchen that her father is familiar with.


Reviewed by: Apoorva Raje
Ruchika Chanana

Homegrown middle grade fiction in India is on the rise and thankfully so! Neha and the Nose written by Ruchika Chanana brings two young detectives, one with the brains and one with the, um, nose, into the scene, where they uncover the truth about various mysteries like who stole the Sadanand Sharma Trophy for Extramural Excellence or who was stalking Harini, the head girl.


Reviewed by: Andaleeb Wajid
Asha Nehemiah

Hot Jalebis is a story which depicts the crazy rush and dangers of an Indian street. A young boy is told to bring jalebis from the nearby jalebi stall. He is repeatedly reminded by his grandmother about the crows and eagles that swoop down suddenly. He also has to overcome a temptation to eat the jalebis.


Reviewed by: Vivasvat Devanampriya
Niveditha Subramaniam

Niveditha Subramaniam’s Ammama’s Sari is a beautiful wordless book appropriate for children between 0 to 100. Please acquire it whether or not you have children in your life. It captures the essence of the Indian design philosophy of affordance of everyday materials and objects—the very antithesis of the modern affliction of ‘use-and-throw’. Subramaniam mounts exquisitely textured fabric collages that evoke the texture and feel of a Sari.


Reviewed by: Priyanka Bhattacharyya
Meenu Thomas

The five books that are reviewed below and the many others that I have read before, makes me wonder at the spectrum of quality that one finds in Pratham Books, as they range from excellent to mediocre to simply substandard..


Reviewed by: Sandhya Gandhi-Vakil
Magnolia

Uff! There’s a mouse in the house. I can see it scampering on my kitchen platform, behind the gas stove, then jump down lightly and scurry under the door, under the wooden crockery shelf-almirah, under the wooden stool on which my mother prefers the fridge is kept so she doesn’t have to bend down too much.


Reviewed by: Tultul Biswas