Saaz, like many young Muslim children in India, waits breathlessly for Eid to slide in with the new moon after 30 days of rigorous Ramadan fasts. More than the “delicious food” and the break from school, he chiefly looks forward to his Eidee – a special gift given to children and young adults by parents and older relatives. This year, after he returns from his namaz at the masjid, his parents gift him a book. In Saaz’s Search, Mamta Nainy evokes how children often interact with books as sensual objects rather than as mere cognitive experiences.

“Saaz sniffed the book. It smelt heavenly.
He stared at its cover. It looked masterly.
He flipped its glossy pages. They felt buttery.”

Determined to promptly flip through his illustrated pages, he plans to ensconce himself in an “old but big” chair. But he’s dissuaded by the chattering guests that flood his living room. He heads to the bedroom, a space where he has watched his Ammi retreat into muffled me-times. Except that today is different. Ammi enters with many of Saaz’s Khalas (aunts) for a tradition that reinforces sisterhood – applying intricate Henna designs on each other’s hands. This is not the secluded space that it usually is.

He picks the dining table next. Now he has to contend with the seductive wafts of “biryani”, “kebabs” and “sheer-khurma.” Enlarging what feels like a typical middle-income or lower-middle home into a vastness that’s worthy of a child’s “search”, Saaz rejects a series of spaces for droll, relatable reasons.

The bathroom? No. The illustration depicts a queue of adults and kids waiting to enter.
The swing? No. Too dizzying.
The balcony? Too bright.
The cupboard? Too dark.

It’s back to the “old but big” chair in the living room, which creaks with many folks. It suddenly strikes him that this is what Eid signifies: sharing. So he resorts to reading the book in the only way he can: aloud to everyone.

Without a dreary, didactic message, the book subtly encourages literary cultures, while also being cognizant of the spatial and temporal constraints of many Indian kids. How do you sustain a private act in a country that accords privacy to a privileged few? By subverting the nature of reading, turning it from a silent, isolated one into a shared read-aloud. This can certainly work for Saaz at his age. But one can foresee how a teenage Saaz would struggle with focusing on more opaque and necessarily private texts. The solution? The nation needs more public libraries with airy, well-lit reading nooks. As well as shaded benches in parks and museums and other imaginative commons.

Illustrated by Debashish Sharma, the book brings the Indian Muslim celebration to life –  little boys prancing in their kufis or topis, women covering their heads with dupattas, and little girls splaying their henna designs. Aimed at tiny ones, it’s a read that reinforces how similar we all are: we gather as families, to celebrate festivals, and abide with the chaos that the crowding entails. In an age where ‘diversity’ is bandied as perilous rather than enriching, it’s a recognition of how underneath the superficialities of culture, religion, ethnicity et al, we are more similar than different.

References

Saaz’s Search, Mamta Nainy (Illustrated by Debashish Sarma), Tota Books, Speaking Tiger, 2025