Anyone Can Write - A Writing Initiative for Children For those who believe that children don’t read, the Bombay International Book Fair was a must-visit-spot last week.

When I was invited to participate with my modest list of six books, I wasn’t sure what to expect or what quantity of books to take. Mine was to be the smallest table in a room full of giant vendors which import upwards of 5,000 titles and hold exhibitions all over Bombay.

“Bring along a short summary about the charity you support,” the library parent said, “and pamphlets about the writing initiative too.” I have recently launched an initiative where I hold creative writing workshops on line, with a view to publishing children’s work.

On the ‘set up’ evening three tempos blocked the road in front of the school. A retinue of men in blue unloaded cartons, metal stands, cash registers and other paraphernalia required to set up shop. The men carrying heavy cartons ran up the steps two at a time to the fourth floor where the exhibition was to be held. It was raining and the energetic men left a wet trail all along the steep steps I had to climb to reach my destination.
“There is no lift,” I had been warned. But I wasn’t going to let that come in the way of my first ever book exhibition.

I lifted my sari to avoid getting it wet and looking as business-like as I could, huffed my way up. On the way I met the energetic mountain goats of the vendors. They looked at me curiously. “Take it easy, go slow, ma’am,” one of them said, as he whizzed past me for the second time.

It took me three and a half minutes to unpack my four small cartons and set up the table. I was ready to leave by the time the vendor opposite me had opened the first carton of glossy, irresistible items.

The first day of the Book fair was wet and dark and slushy. I arrived before anyone else and removed the table cloth on my table. My books looked divine. And then I looked around. The stands were up as were the balloons, the posters proclaiming large discounts and the books! Such a wonderful variety of them.

The bell rang and a babble of children in grey shorts and T shirts hurried in. There was a wave of them and then another and then another. Third and fourth graders, I thought. They attacked the books, their eyes alight and curious. They spoke randomly in a book induced stupor. Some of them stood and read, others found places to perch, some gathered books under their little elbows and yet others bought outright. They were on a limited budget after exceeding which they could reserve the books they wanted. The happiness I witnessed was heart warming. The bell rang all too soon and the children disappeared in a tidal wave.
And thus it went the whole day. Different classes came at intervals, the teachers came, some parents came and then more children and then more.
‘Please lend me some money,’ one boy said.
‘You can reserve your book and get it tomorrow,” I said.
‘I have,’ he said, ‘but I can’t wait for tomorrow, I want it now!’
Another one ran off with one of my books. I watched helplessly until he returned.
‘Do you want it?’ I asked. ‘No,’ he smiled, ‘I know someone by the name of this title. I was just showing it to her.’
A ten year old came and handed me a Rs.50/- note. “Keep it,” he said, “I don’t want it.”
“Come back here,” I said, in my most firm voice. The boy stopped.
“Take out your wallet and put the note away carefully,” I said. “You must respect money.”
Out came a wallet with Mickey Mouse on it and the note was stowed away.
“How much is 10 % discount?” A boy asked, looking most mournful.
“On how much?” I asked.
“What is that?” he said, “How much what?”
“How much does the book cost?” I asked.
“Dunno,” he said.

For two days the children came during school hours but Saturday became a family day. Mother. Father, children and ayah came along to the book fair. In most cases the children chose or they chose in consultation with their parents. In a very few cases the child looked bored and the mother or father did the choosing.
“I think I’ll take this,” a little girl said. She must have been all of 6 years old.
“Are you really interested in the topic?” her mother asked, seriously.
“Oh yes, it’s my favorite!” said the child. She handed the book entitled ‘All About Egyptian Mummies,’ to the cashier to bill.
A lot of parents expressed interest in writing too. I advised, watched and soaked up the wonderful atmosphere of this school so invested in spreading the written word, not only through academics but through the fantastic world of fiction too.

According to me, children still DO read…what are your views?