In the last year, I have been collecting
children’s books rooted in India with the noble though only partially realised
intention of passing them on to the little ones in my life. I devour each one
with the pretext of screening it, especially on the basis of how it tackles the
themes of gender and class.
One
day, Tulika Books popped up on my Facebook newsfeed, announcing an offer on
children’s books about disability. This made me think about why I had not
organically come across any book featuring disability in any
way in the past year. I also wondered what I could expect from children’s books
featuring disability. With this in mind, I set out to explore a few of these
books.
These are the three that made me think the
most.
Ten
by Shefalee
Jain. Age 2+
Children in ones and twos gather to watch something, their
numbers growing by the minute. They are not named, and they appear as you might
encounter them on a quiet street.
Walking, cycling, on the way to school, this motley gang is
drawn to something. But what are they looking at? This is a counting book and
so much more. The text is scant and is set in a lovely rhyme format which makes
for a well-paced read-aloud session.
One of the children happens to be a boy who uses crutches.
This inclusion is seemingly effortless, and yet how often do you see a child
with a disability as part of storytelling, or even the teaching process?
In addition to counting, you can use the illustrations in
the book to discuss each character with the child you are reading to. I can
visualise my nephew taking off on a tangent about each character and telling me
about their life.
Watch for what comes through when children describe the boy
on crutches. It will not only tell you what they associate with disability, it
can be an opening for a much-needed conversation.
Kanna Panna
Story by Zai Whitaker, Pictures by Niloufer
Wadia. Age 5+
The story is narrated
by Kanna, who doesn’t talk much, but does have a lot of words in his head. He
goes to his chithi’s (aunt’s) home where he and his cousins
have a blast.
During a visit to a cave temple lit by tube lights, the
power goes off, and Kanna leads the fearful bunch out of the caves.
Suddenly, he has a lot to say. Kanna starts school, talks in
rhymes, and makes a friend. All along, there are subtle hints that Kanna can’t
see too well.
Kanna could be any little boy. His eyesight is but one aspect
of his larger character.
Whitaker creates a character who is subdued to start with,
and who eventually becomes comfortable with his own goofiness. Pausing to study
Wadia’s vivid illustrations, you realise that Kanna is never looking at other
characters or things.
When he is at the pond, his hands play with the water, when
the family is looking around the cave temple in awe, Kanna looks at nothing in
specific but is feeling a pillar, and when he leads the family out of the dark
cave he isn’t even looking in the direction in which he moves.
Yet all of this is evident only when you sit with the book
for a second time and marvel at the layers both in the text and the visuals. My
eight-year-old niece read this book. When I asked her to tell me the story, she
described everything and seemed to relate to the boy, but didn’t realise that
he can’t see well!
I told her of my suspicion about his sight and she was
surprised. She skimmed through the book for a second time and agreed with me.
We talked about Kanna some more and she told me she had never before read a
story about disability. This was a lovely start.
Catch That Cat
Story by Tharini Viswanath, Pictures by Nancy Raj. Age 4+
Dip
Dip, the protagonist, is curious, playful and full of energy. She is a messy
little bundle by the end of the day. She uses a wheelchair. Her friend Meemo
loses her cat, Kaapi, and is inconsolable.
Dip Dip skips school to look for Kaapi, all over the streets
and all the nooks and crevices she can find. When she finally finds Kaapi high
up on a tree, bribing, baiting and reprimanding the cat doesn’t work, as Kaapi
now is too scared to descend.
Dip Dip pulls herself up onto a branch, Kaapi is rescued and
Dip Dip’s family finds both of them on the tree! Dip Dip, Kaapi the cat and Dip
Dip’s wheelchair are part of the delightful cover illustration.
She is splayed on the grass laughing loudly (try to listen,
and you can hear it) as Kaapi jumps on her tummy, possibly tickling her. The
wheelchair stands nearby. Flip to the first page and Viswanath’s words tell you
that Dip Dip is the naughtiest child in school. Raj’s illustrations have her
seated on a tyre swing, screaming with glee.
The wheelchair is partially visible in the background. In
the story that follows, you see Dip Dip doing many things on the wheelchair and
off of it. I had to stop to consider how Dip Dip managed some things, for
instance moving up a hill, or climbing onto the tyre swing.
For children who are reading, this could be a lovely way to
start understanding issues of physical access to spaces, to play and much else.
Another aspect of the story that is very nicely done is when Dip Dip is out and
about in public, speaking confidently to people she meets on the street. By
this point in the story, Dip Dip in the reader’s mind is a spirited and gutsy
girl, and one doesn’t worry about her being about the streets alone.
The illustrations show the beautiful streets and hills with
glimpses of Dip Dip and/or her wheelchair moving past a backyard, or on a
street. She is part of the town and claiming it as her own in search of Kaapi.
No fear. No panic. Just moving around her territory looking for a friend’s cat.
My feminist wish list
What is it that I liked about these books? I am a feminist,
and I use this lens to the culture that I consume. When I extended a similar
ask to books on disability, a wish list of sorts emerged – sensitivity in
representation, a shift from stereotypes, characters with disability being
significant in the story (which needn’t translate to making their disability a
centrepiece), and good storytelling. How did these books fare against my
tentative wish list? Beautifully.
These are gorgeous and fun stories, with positive images and
very interesting ways of representing disability. The characters are
well-rounded and have their own sense of self and agency, which may or may not
have anything to do with their disability. The disability is not compensated
for with other significant abilities or ‘specialness’. Most importantly, the
stories are non-preachy and fun – something you want to share with the children
in your life.
Do they cover everything that needs to be said about the
issue? Of course not. They didn’t set out to do that in the first place. In
these books, disability gains visibility in the storytelling. Through them, one
sees children with disabilities in many roles – as part of groups, as
individuals at turning points in their lives, as heroes. That’s a very good
spectrum to cover, and I am looking forward to many more such stories.
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