THE FIVE FANTASTIC FLIGHTS OF JEH; JEH KI PAANCH ANOOTHI UDAANE
Both by Nandita de Cunha. Illustrations by Kavita Singh Kale
Jugnu Prakashan, an imprint of Ektara Trust, 2025, pp. 48 each, ` 175.00 each
HARA SAMANDAR, GOPI CHANDAR
By Varun Grover. Illustrated by Allen Shaw Jugnoo Prakashan, an imprint of Ektara Trust, 2025,
pp. 20, ` 100.00
LUNAR SOIL
By Shiraz Hussain. Illustrated by Allen Shaw, Proiti Roy, Shiraz Hussain, and Rajiv Eipe
Jugnu Prakashan, an imprint of Ektara Trust, 2024,
pp. 32, ` 120.00
The first thing a child reaches for is often a crayon, clutching red to draw a sun or filling the sky with pink instead of blue. Children perceive blue that swirls like water, green that stretches wide like a playground field, brown that holds the warmth of soil, and white that floats like clouds across the sky. To little eyes, every shade is alive with secrets.
Psychology and colour theory remind us: colours shape emotions, nurture creativity, and quietly teach life’s first lessons. Hence, it becomes important to understand children’s books and the colours used in them.
In the same light, The Saw finds its place. This little picture-poem book filters the elemental world into a meditative sequence—water, wind, colours, soil, sky. Each element unfolds across a spread where textured, broken brushstrokes, collage-like colours on the left are mirrored by calm, unbroken hues on the right, setting up a rhythm of looking and listening. The refrain breaks when ‘the saw’ fells a tree, disrupting the chain of elements and providing a thought-provoking entry into understanding ecological interdependence. Although the abruptness of ‘the saw’ motif may puzzle young readers, its strength lies in spare lyricism.
In the next book, Kutte Ne Socha, a cascade of comparison begins with the line, ‘I wish I were a bird,’ where every creature dreams of another’s form; never content with its own. The illustrations combine fine, delicate strokes with expressive faces and earthy backgrounds. The hand-drawn quality allows animal elements, like round eyes and flowing fur, to be relatable. It speaks with quiet irony: what seems to be a fable for children is also a parable for adults who endlessly imitate and aspire, never comprehending their own worth. It asks us to pause and accept the beauty of being ourselves.
In Dhunna Kai Padiya (Dhunna’s calf), the poem in the Awadhi dialect describes the calf’s mischief. It captures rustic humour and affection through a vivid portrait of a spirited calf, comparing its gallop to a rushing train. The simple yet expressive illustrations use warm earth tones and bold outlines to amplify domestic scenes, children’s faces, and village landscapes, anchoring them in everyday life. It animates the black calf against a textured background, echoing oral storytelling. The work seems aimed at cultural preservation for younger generations, valuing ordinary speech and sight, carrying the hope of reaching them.
The next story is of a tigress. Lightning’s tale, told with gentle lyricism, celebrates the fierce tenderness between a tigress and her Ranthambore. Vivid traditional artwork, gulmohar afternoons, bright-yellow joyful flights, dusky moonlit scenes, and Mandana-inspired borders capture Rajasthan’s mural art traditions, adding local flavour. School children and women at wells appear as lively portraits. Artwork details, like expressive brushstrokes and organic ink drops, reward close attention. The narrative subtly questions human intervention: rescue becomes captivity, evoking empathy and unease. One drawback is the oversized format which hampers portability. Despite this, the art and story make a thought-provoking picture book.
with ‘he power of small beginnings’ at its heart. Hand-painted planes, a detailed map with landmarks, and tiny inscriptions on planes, sacks, and banners evoke nostalgia, bringing these journeys to life with authenticity and visual delight.
Next, we move to a work that captures childhood innocence laced with quiet tragedy. In Hara Samandar, Gopi Chandar, a single, small lie corrodes a child’s inner world. It teaches how a lie, effortless when spoken, gradually hollows the self, leaving only longing for what might have been. The sea-green umbrella becomes his mirror: once bright, later rusted and abandoned in the school storeroom. The cover depicts a child and his older self by the sea; the interlocking shades of the umbrella, the sea, and the boy reflect shifts in his inner self. Softly blended colours and lone images transform everyday symbols (an umbrella as a boat) into vessels of imagination and resourcefulness.
Ending on a note of wonder, the book Lunar Soil is a window into the secret theatre of childhood. Each story, a train’s moving TV screen, Nana Sahib and the barking dog, Hasan’s revenge from the white cat, or Bittu’s music lessons, unfolds the world as children see it: raw, playful, bruised, yet endlessly curious. Everyday life becomes extraordinary, stitched with local Hindi-Urdu idioms and unvarnished street speech that preserves its earthy truth. The illustrations match the stories’ mood: playful, hand-painted teachers and creatures in ‘Lunar Soil’, ink-sketched train windows in ‘Kasam Se Ye Zamana Na…’; the dog, mosque, and terrace in ‘Nishan’ evoking quiet distance; the haunting cat in ‘Safed Billi’; and the bright shirt and guitar in ‘Pappi Sir’. Together, these mirror childhood’s wonder, fear, and resilience. The dark purple cover, evoking the cosmos and labs, represents stories that remind us how childhood is but an experiment in imagination.