The Book Review Literary Trust convened a seminar titled ‘Publishing for the Young: Challenges and Rewards’ as part of the TBR@50 celebrations at the India International Centre on 15 November 2025. Conceived as a focused dialogue among publishers, authors, educators, and children, the event aimed to examine the evolving landscape of children’s and young adult publishing in India. Bringing together practitioners from across the field, the seminar aimed to create an informed space for conversation on current trends, gaps, and emerging possibilities in writing and publishing for young readers. The programme opened with the inaugural remarks of Chandra Chari, whose address set the framework for the morning’s discussions.
Chandra Chari began by acknowledging the contribution that made the event possible. Referring to Sugat Jain’s request that his support not be mentioned, she noted with warmth that this became ‘all the more reason to mention it’, and thanked him for his generous funding of the event. She recalled the longstanding association between The Book Review and the Jain family, especially Dr Dhanesh Jain, whom she described as a longstanding friend and a consistent supporter of the journal. It was he who had earlier encouraged the idea of bringing out issues of The Book Review with four-colour covers, and who sponsored the New Year issue every year. She expressed gratitude that his son Sugat follows in his footsteps. She then briefly turned to the purpose of the seminar, expressing the hope for a meaningful dialogue on the many themes that have emerged in the field, each important and requiring sustained work from authors, editors, and publishers. In her remarks, she highlighted that ‘the most important is the young reader,’ which explained the presence of several students invited to share what young people want to read today.
Drawing on The Book Review’s vantage point of seeing the latest titles each year, Chari described what she termed a strange paradox. While picture books, read-alouds, poetry, fiction, and multilingual titles for beginners have grown in number and improved steadily in visual and production quality, books for young adults continue to lag behind both in terms of numbers and content. She noted that the millennial generation has taken a quantum leap in mental development, but what is currently available for teens in India does not seem to match what is required, especially in comparison to publications for young adults in the West. She invited the publishers and authors present to correct her if they felt otherwise. She also acknowledged the practical challenge of the number of speakers invited to speak at the seminar but expressed confidence that the chair, Namita Ranganathan, would manage the schedule effectively.
Before handing over the session to Namita, Chari offered a brief history of The Book Review’s engagement with children’s literature. Since 1976, children’s books have been a consistent area of focus, with a dedicated special issue published every November. Displaying the latest issue, she noted that the cover illustration was created by Bengaluru-based artist Pratik Vitash and was well-received by the editorial team. The preparation of this issue, she emphasized, was a team effort. She extended thanks to the reviewers who contribute year after year and to publishers who send their latest titles from August onwards. This year, nearly 150 books reached the office. Although all were sent out for review, not all could fit into the 108-page November issue, and more than 20 reviews were held over for the December issue.
Chari then acknowledged the sponsorship of the TCA family, who supported this year’s children’s literature issue in memory of Kamala Ramanujachari, who passed away in February. She offered a brief account of the family’s role in sustaining The Book Review. After the passing of her father, TCA Ramanujachari, in 1998, a civil servant, lawyer, and architect of the Book Review Literary Trust deed, it was her mother who allowed the Vasant Enclave apartment to be used as the journal’s office until 2023. Kamala took immense pride in the journal and closely followed its work, including the late-1990s translation series Past Continuous, edited by Professor Meenakshi Mukherji. Chari recalled her mother’s delight at being present at Rashtrapati Bhavan when the translations were received by President K. R. Narayanan.
She thanked the Tamil Nadu Textbook Corporation for their support, noting that they had taken two colour back-cover advertisements in the special issue. She recalled TBR’s earlier collaboration in 2012 with Radhika Menon of Tulika Books to upload past children’s literature issues on the Wipro Good Books Trust website, and expressed the hope that these files would soon be added to the TBR archives.
Chari then invited Namita Ranganathan to take the chair. Introducing Namita to the audience, she described her as former Dean and current Professor in the Department of Education at the University of Delhi, working in the areas of childhood and adolescence, and an author of multiple books in English and Hindi. Chari added that Namita is the go-to person for identifying reviewers for education, psychology, childhood, and adolescence titles, and has been a regular contributor to The Book Review for many years.
Namita Ranganathan underscored the existence of ‘multiple childhoods, multiple adolescents and multiple young adulthoods’, shaped not only by India’s wide social demography but also by distinct individual experiences. Even within a single school, she noted, developmental stages range from early childhood in the pre-primary years to young adulthood in Classes XI and XII, making it a considerable challenge for school libraries and teachers to meet the literary needs of each cohort. Acknowledging the presence of teachers and teacher-educators in the audience, she expressed the hope that they would share insights from their work in literature and childhood studies. Ranganathan articulated the collective aspiration to identify strategies that might strengthen children’s engagement with literature expanding outreach, enriching reading cultures, and fostering what she described as ‘digital discipline’ to counterbalance the strong pull of online media. She then introduced the first session, Publishers’ Perspective, emphasizing its importance given the pivotal role publishers play in determining what ultimately reaches young readers. Ranganthan then invited the three speakers in the first session: Sugat Jain, Managing Director of Ratna Sagar, a publishing house (that many in the room, she remarked, had grown up reading), Trisha De Niyogi of Niyogi Books, an independent publishing house in New Delhi developing a children’s and young adult imprint (that she described as ‘global and local, but not glocal’) and Vatsala Kaul, writer and editor who began her career with the iconic children’s magazine Target and is currently Publisher of Children’s and Young Adult Books at Hachette India.
Sugat Jain began by tracing the trajectory of the publishing house. He recalled that Ratna Sagar began with textbooks for Grades KG–8. His father, however, was ‘very particular about getting good literature out to children’, a commitment visible in the 1980s and 1990s when reading was not yet widespread. Ratna Sagar had invested in original children’s literature, producing early read-aloud classics such as Lalu and Peelu. He also pointed out that Ratna Sagar ‘was among the first to publish Ruskin Bond when he wasn’t such a big name’. These efforts, he emphasized, struggled commercially. Yet the lessons learned fed into Ratna Sagar’s textbooks, enriching them with creative stories and illustrations. He reflected on parental expectations that restrict children’s freedom to choose what they read, observing that adults prefer books with ‘morals’, learning outcomes, or activity formats. On technology, he argued that competition for attention is not new—from Nintendo to cable TV—but noted that when children can enjoy Captain Underpants as readily as Fortnite, books continue to hold an important place ‘provided they have that freedom to enjoy it’.
Trisha De Niyogi framed her talk around a central question she has long reflected on: ‘What does it really mean to publish for the young?’ Her reflections drew heavily from conversations with parents whom she asked, ‘What do you think is the most important influence on a child’s development?’ who frequently cited good nutrition, a loving home, security, stimulation… and perhaps even a trust fund as the key influences on child development. Trisha argued, however, that the most fundamental factor is context: ‘Where in the world the child is growing up.’ Books, she emphasized, provide ‘attachment, imagination, stimulation, and empathy’, and their impact depends on an ecosystem spanning publishers, authors, libraries, NGOs, and researchers. She highlighted two enduring challenges: getting books to children and getting children to books. Bookstores remain scarce and distribution gaps persist, especially in rural and small-town India. Yet she noted inventive solutions: mobile libraries ‘on vans, cycles, autos, ghodas, and camels’, pop-up libraries, and community reading programmes. Closing her remarks, she reaffirmed the ‘three pillars’ of reading—parents, books, and libraries.
Vatsala Kaul Banerjee recalled that when she entered publishing ‘two decades ago’, many in the field hoped to reach a ‘critical mass… that tipping point where children’s books in India would become unstoppable’. Looking back, she asked candidly, ‘Have we reached that point? And if not, what stands in our way?’ Although annual industry growth of 15-20 per cent appears encouraging, she drew attention to the persistent paradox that ‘the average sale of most non-generic books is still two to three thousand copies,’ while recycled, generic content sells far more. Good publishing, in her view, lies in ‘the ability to make something worthwhile work’, even within the constraints of pricing, competition, and marketing pressures. She closed with a reminder of the deeper significance of this work: ‘Books speak to the imagination of a country… to the moral imagination.’ They shape how young people learn to ‘see the world through other people’s eyes’ and respond with ‘empathy, curiosity and courage’.
To conclude, the session centrally underscored the importance of recognizing the agency, personal space, and identity of the child, an emphasis echoed by all the speakers.
The panel brought together four speakers to examine how children experience violence and interpret conflict, and how children caught in conflict situations all over the world are portrayed in books. Shubhra Seth, Associate Professor of Political Science at Indraprastha College, argued that any writing on children in conflict must begin with clarifying terms like ‘refugee’ and the ‘internally displaced’ so young readers can recognize peers uprooted ‘miles and miles away’. She highlighted climate-conflict-driven ‘circular displacement’, the disruption of schooling in camps, and the need for portable learning kits. Drawing on fieldwork from Dhaka, she described children processing trauma through art, recalling a boy who ‘kept scribbling in red’, denoting violence he may have experienced. Emphasizing agency, she insisted, ‘We have to go by the axiom, nothing about us without us.’
Surabhika Maheshwari, Associate Professor of Psychology at Indraprastha College, approached conflict through personal, pedagogical and clinical experience. She described how her teenage daughter turned to The Kite Runner and Maus to understand global crises, illustrating how literature lives ‘inside’ young readers. Maheshwari outlined three functions of conflict narratives: child protagonists reveal moral transgression and universal trauma; such stories help children recognize privilege and vulnerability; and many adults credit childhood reading for later resilience. For her, ‘Conflict… is very importantly intra-psychic,’ making books crucial spaces for young readers to navigate emotions.
Deepa Agarwal, writer, poet, and translator, underscored the severe shortage of Indian children’s literature on conflict. As a Crossword jury member, she found ‘only one book’ meaningfully addressing it. She praised Savie Karnel’s Laxmi Panda and Paro Anand’s No Guns at My Son’s Funeral and Weed for portraying children’s vulnerabilities in Burma and Kashmir. Discussing her own work, Kashmir! Kashmir!, she stressed the need to depict fear, disrupted schooling, and identity struggles, noting, ‘Our mission as writers remains incomplete if we cannot sensitize our readers to human suffering and invoke empathy.’
Shibani Phukan, Associate Professor of English at Atma Ram Sanatan Dharma College, situated her remarks in the North East, recalling the Assam agitation and a childhood shaped by daily anxieties such as ‘Should we send the child to school today?’ The books she read offered escape but not representation, prompting her question: ‘Is the child actually being reflected?’ Citing Shillong Times and When Blackbirds Fly, she underscored the persistent ‘othering’ of the region and the under-representation of children’s trauma and identity in mainstream literature.
Namita Ranganathan opened the third session by noting its focus on sensitizing young readers to issues such as disability, adoption, caste, inclusion, equality, secularism, and mental health. She introduced the three speakers: Vinita Bhargava, recently retired from Lady Irwin College and widely regarded as a leading authority on adoption; Tultul Biswas, Director of the Eklavya Foundation in Bhopal, involved in publishing that foregrounds children’s agency and in training teachers and grassroots educators; and Nilika Mehrotra from Jawaharlal Nehru University, whose work addresses gender, disability, and development.
Vinita Bhargava began by situating her work within four decades of engagement with children in institutional care. Her central concern was the lifelong challenge of disclosure ‘telling about adoption’. Drawing on her own experience adopting her daughter and on a longitudinal study of adoptees now in their thirties and forties, she observed that disclosure is never a single event but a developmental journey. Early questions like ‘Did I come out of your stomach?’ signal children’s need for coherent origin stories. Adolescence, she argued, intensifies identity struggles. While childhood stories destigmatize adoption, teenage years bring anger, confusion, and questions of worth: ‘Am I so flawed that my biological family left me?’ This reveals an enduring tension between gratitude for love, care, endless opportunities and the persistent need to understand roots. Bhargava concluded that children’s literature must portray disclosure as ‘a gradual developmentally appropriate and ongoing process’, aligning information with the child’s age, emotional maturity, and evolving sense of belonging.
Tultul Biswas stated that books acknowledge a child’s lived reality and offer recognition, ‘Oh yes, this is about me.’ Yet countless children still cannot find themselves represented in the books they receive. Biswas emphasized that children’s literature must not only mirror reality but also interrogate and challenge it. She invoked examples such as Mahasweta Devi’s Why-Why Girl, where a young girl questions why school timings align only with the needs of privileged children, and a story about a girl who outwits an upper-caste landlord who harasses wage-labouring families. These stories, she argued, illustrate how books can inspire children to imagine alternatives, overturn constraints, and confront injustice. However, she insisted that books alone are insufficient. Dialogic spaces, libraries, reading rooms, classrooms, homes, and community settings are indispensable. Without collective discussion, reflection, and exchange, the political and ethical possibilities of stories remain dormant. Turning to mental health, an area she described as severely under-addressed in children’s literature, Biswas concluded with a reframing: the task is not to ‘sensitize young readers’ but to sensitize ourselves: authors, illustrators, editors, publishers, librarians, teachers, and all who work with children to the complex social realities children navigate.
Nilika Mehrotra positioned herself as an anthropologist and ethnographer whose work on disability and mental health, especially in rural Haryana offers insights rather than children’s literature per se. Her early research traced how women negotiated the everyday burdens of disability, and she noted that the experiences of children with intellectual disabilities surfaced largely through their mothers’ voices. A defining moment for her was when a student after reading her 2006 paper, said: ‘You have captured my experience.’ Having grown up in a Haryana village, the student recognized in Mehrotra’s account the same attitudinal discrimination and structural barriers she faced. Such encounters point to what Mehrotra describes as a ‘universality of experience’ across communities. She emphasized the persistent absence of disability narratives within Indian academic literature and reflected on how her critique of the social model of disability continues to resonate with students.
One young man with cerebral palsy affirmed her argument that, in the Indian context, the social and medical models must be read together: his difficulties arise not only from social obstacles but also from the demands of his own body, which requires continuous rehabilitation.
The next session was slated to focus on Evolving Genres: LGBTQ| Science Fiction| Fantasy| Graphic Books and Comics. A vibrant mix of scholars, writers, and student voices spoke to explore how today’s young readers engage with an expanding world of genres from fantasy and science fiction to graphic novels inviting fresh ways of understanding what stories resonate with them. The session opened with Malhar Prakash, a first-year Political Science student from Ramjas College who spoke on the growing prominence of queer literature. He noted the recent surge in its visibility; bookstores now frequently feature dedicated sections and argued that its appeal, especially among teenagers, stems from its inherently transgressive character. Because queer identities have long been marginalized, engaging with queer narratives becomes, for many young readers, an act of rebellion that resonates with adolescent tendencies to question norms. He emphasized that despite this progress, mainstream literature remains largely heteronormative, shaping narrow ideas of what is ‘normal’. For Malhar, the discomfort some express about queer representation only underscores the urgency of discussing it. Queer literature, he concluded, expands the space for dialogue and fosters much-needed normalization.
Class 3 student Antara Vaid Datta from Vasant Valley School, New Delhi stole the show with her confident presentation. She brought to light thoughtful reflections offering an illuminating glimpse into what younger readers gravitate toward today. She shared that she enjoys ‘books with morals that are easier to understand for children’, citing Deepak Harwani’s Wisdom Tales from the Gita for Children and recalling the excitement of hearing the author speak at her school. Animals, she noted, make stories especially delightful. Owl Diaries even inspired her to start her own diary, while Gajapati Kulapati remains a favourite for its humour. Yet it is magical worlds that captivate her most. Comparing Roald Dahl’s Witches with Harry Potter and Heidi Heckelbeck, she emphasized how these books show that magic can be both good and frightening, and how friendship shapes every adventure. She ended by expressing a quiet wish: to write a book herself one day.
Nine-year-old Nargis Pandit from Modern School, Vasant Vihar, spoke with warmth and clarity about the place books occupy in her life. ‘When I open a book, it feels like jumping into a new world,’ she began, describing how stories transport her instantly from her room into unfolding adventures. She recalled her early love for picture books: Eric Carle’s illustrations and Julia Donaldson’s rhythmic stories read aloud by her mother. Now, she gravitates toward stories of ‘girls doing exciting things’ such as Heidi and Pollyanna, whose kindness and courage prompt her to imagine how she herself might act in difficult situations. Biographies of Jane Goodall and Gandhiji inspire her too. Nargis also reflected on the joy of moving between books and their film versions, sometimes reading first, sometimes watching first, each enriching the other. Her favourites range from The Worst Witch and Matilda to Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Oscar Wilde’s tales, which make her ‘think and feel’. She ended with a gentle reminder: grown-ups may suggest books, but should let children choose freely ‘because the best kind of reading is reading for fun’.
Hridaan Jain, an eighth-grader from Springdales School, Dhaula Kuan, introduced himself as a known bookworm. He traced his journey into reading through fantasy and science fiction, genres he admits he has been ‘stuck on’, especially the worlds of Rick Riordan and JK Rowling. These stories, he said, give him a strange comfort; at least he is not the one scared to death because a Kraken is chasing him in the seas of the USA. His love for such books has also turned him into a writer; he has already published a collection of short stories on nature and is working on another. Hridaan spoke about reviewing books and films, and the unique ritual that began his reading life: watching one hour of Harry Potter and then reading up to the corresponding point in the book. Books, he said, feel like ‘my superpowers’, teaching him everything from surviving zombie apocalypses to avoiding dragons. They transport him to other worlds while grounding him more deeply in this one. He closed with characteristic wit: ‘May your bookmarks never fall out.’
Khwahish Sethi, a Class 11 student from Springdales School, Dhaula Kuan, offered a deeply moving reflection on how books helped her transform silence into self-expression. ‘Silence for me felt like a cage,’ she began, recalling how reading first gave her the language she could not yet speak. Books became a quiet refuge that later inspired her to write two children’s books of her own. From Ruskin Bond and Amar Chitra Katha to Orwell, Neil Gaiman, and Philip Pullman, she described building both global and local vocabularies of power, identity, and truth. For her generation, she emphazised, books are not escapes but ‘a covenant, a sacred promise’ that helps them confront the messiness of reality with courage.
Kyra Singh, a Class 9 student from The Shri Ram School, Aravali, spoke about reading as a search for characters who mirrored her own challenges and growth. She recalled how, as a young reader, she gravitated toward protagonists who ‘started as timid and weak and then eventually overcame their obstacles in life,’ finding courage in their journeys. For her tenth birthday, she not only received 10 books but also published Tipu Tales, a collection of family stories she illustrated herself. Now drawn to classics like Kafka’s Metamorphosis, she reflected on teenage feelings of isolation and uncertainty, and on how shrinking attention spans demand that authors reinvent themselves to engage young readers citing John Grisham’s Theodore Boone as a series that made her feel seen.
Zaara Suhrawardy, a Class 9 student from Billabong High International School, described herself as primarily a fiction enjoyer, shaped by a childhood surrounded by stories her father told and her mother wrote. Fantasy remained her refuge, though growing older made her more aware of how these magical worlds parallel the real world and its problems. This sharpened her longing for diverse representation and good representation, especially of women, indigenous communities, queer identities, and mental health. She stressed that readers should not settle for the bare minimum: stories must allow every community to feel seen. For Zaara, literature’s power whether written for the audience or private expression lies in affirming that ‘I am a person and I feel these feelings and they are valid.’ Aditya Karnik from Sanskriti School, Delhi challenged the myth that young readers today are disengaged, arguing instead that uninterrupted time has become a luxury. Speaking for 15 to 21-year-olds, he explained how academic pressure shapes reading habits, making his generation highly selective. He highlighted the ‘three Rs: relatability, reliability and relevance’ as the key to capturing young readers. Aditya noted the rising appeal of romantic fantasy, sci-fi thrillers, self-help, and accessible non-fiction that connect to contemporary issues like AI, climate change, and geopolitics.
Ankur Datta, a sociologist by training teaching in South Asian University reflected on the power of graphic novels as tools for ‘making the familiar strange and the strange familiar’. Speaking as both a reader and teacher, he described how texts like Maus and Barefoot Gen help students encounter catastrophic violence in ways that are both accessible and unsettling, expanding their imaginative and ethical horizons. He highlighted how the blend of image and text creates a new perspective for understanding trauma, memory, and survival. Dr Datta also situated graphic narratives within broader multimodal cultures spanning adaptations, games, and toys arguing that reading today is a multisensory experience. Acknowledging the genre’s limitations, including casteist and sexist tropes in older comics, he emphasized its evolving possibilities, from Joe Sacco’s graphic journalism to works like Munnu and Nikhil Tripathi’s book on Somnath Hore. For young readers in a liminal stage, he suggested, such forms open never-ending possibilities of alternatives.
Suniti Madan, who teaches English literature at Vivekananda Institute of Professional Studies and completed her PhD on Tinkle Comics, reflected on how children’s comics shape reading cultures and literary imagination in India. Expressing admiration for the young panellists’ insights, she situated her own journey in a tier-two city where subscriptions like Tinkle were her lifeline to stories. She contrasted Tinkle’s ‘apolitical sort of context’ with the casteist and sexist undertones scholars have identified in Amar Chitra Katha. What fascinated her, she said, was Tinkle’s whimsical world where ‘the distinction between the child and adult somewhere blurs’, from Supandi’s childlike mischief to Shikari Shambu’s comic incompetence. Over four decades, Tinkle has evolved through parody, pastiche, and intertextuality, offering a ludic, self-reflective energy that continues to influence both children’s literature and more serious graphic forms, including works like Munnu, Kari, and the contemporary journal Comixense by Orijit Sen.
Sanam Khanna who teaches at Kamala Nehru College is a long-time scholar of children’s literature. She highlighted how Indian science fiction for young readers remains invisible because ‘if you’re not trained to see it, you don’t see it.’ The problem, she argued, is not a lack of writers but a lack of institutional support, with works like Anil Menon’s Beast with Nine Billion Feet going out of print. Khanna urged adults to stop shielding children who are no longer in a safe space from the realities of today’s world and to include underrepresented young readers who ask, ‘What about our stories?’
Alizia Kumail offered a sharp, witty window into ‘the secret lives of teenagers and how they interact with books today, especially digitally’. Drawing on her experience as a young reader and software developer, she explained how platforms like Storygraph favoured for its end-of-year graphics and communities such as BookTok and Bookstagram now shape literary trends and even revive classics. She also raised concerns about algorithm-driven reading cultures that ‘flatten engagement with literature’ and push explicit content to very young readers. Her central provocation was clear: the digital ecosystem is transforming how teens read, share, and understand books.
Himanjali Sankar reflected on the difficulty of defining what young readers want, noting that desire often sits below consciousness and is shaped as much by what is available as by what is chosen. Sales, publishing trends, and the candid preferences voiced by student readers offer clues, but she stressed that how a story is written really matters. Strong writing can draw readers into genres they never imagined liking from emotionally rich fantasy to dystopia.
Sharing her own book Game On!, a cautionary tale on blurred virtual-real boundaries, she observed how contemporary anxieties inevitably seep into storytelling.
Anjana Neira Dev who teaches at Gargi College, New Delhi, approached the question of what young people read by turning to her students’ voices. Polling 86 undergraduates, she asked about their current favourite genres, the reasons behind these choices, and the earliest books that shaped their reading journeys. The responses revealed both external influences like adult gatekeeping by families and schools, syllabi, librarians, access, trends, and even the desire to improve one’s English and internal factors such as language, setting, plot, character, and relatability. Her students identified nearly forty genres they actively read. One student traced a path from Panchatantra and Champak to ‘romancy’ and murder mysteries, underscoring how tastes evolve with experience and exposure.
Sunat offered a forthright critique of how certain bestselling romances shape young readers’ understandings of relationships. Stories like Haunting Adeline or It Ends With Us, she argued, cannot be read in a vacuum: they normalize stalking, domination, and even domestic violence, often excused simply because the male character is attractive. When tropes such as ‘enemies to lovers’ escalate into outright abuse, young women may internalize harmful expectations of love and trauma. She warned that hyper-resilient heroines with improbable recovery arcs distort real experiences of pain. While books will continue to circulate, she stressed the need to distinguish healthy narratives from those that young readers should be protected from.
The session on writing history for children brought together four thinkers who reflected on how it requires reorienting scholarly habits, narrative methods, and even ways of seeing. Sohail Hashmi, a ‘Dilli wala’ and heritage-walks practitioner, traced his entry into children’s history to years of guiding school groups across Delhi. His book Sanchi: Where Tigers Fly and Lions Have Horns grew from travelling with Class V children, whose low eye-level revealed details he had long missed, from ASI drainage holes to donor inscriptions and even the absence of cows. As he noted, ‘I saw things in Sanchi which I had never noticed… These are things that children notice and we do not see.’ His later book, The Music of Stones, uses shared architectural motifs to challenge labels like ‘Hindu’ or ‘Muslim’ architecture, stressing the need to adopt children’s sightlines and curiosity.
Peggy Mohan, linguist and historian, argued that language is a powerful way into history and not an ‘adult’ subject. Teaching ten-year-olds about migration pushed her to rethink assumptions, from why farmers migrate to how ‘surplus males’ reshape linguistic landscapes. Children’s questions about Ashokan Prakrit or Devanagari sounds have sparked some of her deepest research. She emphasized, ‘Kids don’t want to be patronized. They can do the more difficult things that sometimes we can’t do.’
Parvati Sharma, writer of historical books for young readers, described writing for children as transformative: ‘Writing for children is a hugely, hugely energizing process… because it forces me to become a less dull, more curious person.’ She noted children’s intense engagement and rereading of stories, recalling how a scene of the death of Babur’s father prompted them to share personal losses. Rejecting moral binaries, she favours playfulness and discovery over ideological messaging while writing history for young readers.
Professor Narayani Gupta, eminent historian, reflected on early advice to avoid convoluted vocabulary when writing for Class 3, a reminder of how adults burden children with language. She stressed, ‘Children till about 18 grow far more than they do in the remaining decades.’ Critiquing shifting student attitudes throughout school life, problematic NCERT formulations, and parental textbook anxieties, she warned of the long-term effects of what children read. She closed with affectionate memories of her unconventional school, where curiosity mattered more than examinations.
The session on Inculcating the Reading Habit among Children started with Malvika Rai, who reflected on why many children disengage from reading, drawing on reflective journals written by her students about their early encounters with books. A central barrier, she noted, is language: families and teachers often act as gatekeepers, insisting on English and denying children the comfort and joy of reading in their own languages. This struggle turns reading into labour rather than pleasure. She also critiqued the highly controlled nature of school reading: restricted library periods, rigid choices, and limited cross-curricular engagement. Crucially, she stressed that teachers must be visible readers themselves, modelling curiosity so that children can imagine themselves as readers too.
Nidhi Seth offered practical suggestions for nurturing reading habits, beginning with the idea that ‘drop everything and read’ must extend beyond schools into families. Simply buying books, she argued, is not enough; parents must model engagement by reading alongside their children. Drawing on her own childhood, she recalled how rereading, reading aloud, and being appreciated made books irresistible. She cautioned against overwhelming young readers with the entire series at once, noting that gradual, guided exposure sustains curiosity; sometimes even the ‘forbidden’ book becomes the most enticing. She also highlighted issues of affordability and the decline of accessible community libraries, urging more equitable, child-friendly reading spaces.
Aishwarya Jha reflected on the paradox of rising screen time: while often blamed for declining reading, digital communities like BookTok have also revived the ‘reader aesthetic’. Drawing from her own childhood in a book-saturated home, she noted that reading was never about being ‘cool’ but about daily immersion in stories. Today, however, she feels the emphasis on relatability risks overshadowing the wonder of reading and the thrill of entering worlds unlike our own, from Narnia to Wonka’s factory. She argued that stories cultivate empathy across time, place, and identity, and warned that limiting children to familiar narratives may deprive them of imagination, discovery, and the life skills reading uniquely builds.
Ann Susan Aleyas closed the session by reaffirming that reading must be understood not only through content but through the process itself: the patience it cultivates, the autonomy of choosing a book, and even the realization that a choice may not work. In an age of hyper-connection, she emphasized the quiet value of being alone with oneself inside a story. She then turned to community: rather than policing students’ reliance on summaries, she began exploring Bookstagram and BookTok, posting short reviews and discovering new ways to engage her students. This experiment eventually grew into a college book club, illustrating how technology can be integrated into reading cultures rather than treated as an adversary.
In her closing remarks, Namita Ranganathan drew together the insights of the day, noting that the seminar had generated a stimulating blend of analysis, reflection, and lived experience. She also appreciated the presence and engagement of the young students who had stayed through the discussions.