Kiddies’ Stories Warm Up To Climate Change

In Nature’s Lap

Every summer, thousands of flamingos fly south, shifting the skies into a sea of pink. In Tulika Books’ Go, Go, Flamingo, these migratory birds are more than a sight to behold — they are the protagonists of a journey that mirrors the fragility of our ecosystems. Told in satirical verse, the book follows their flight over shrinking wetlands, skirting polluted rivers, and pausing in landscapes under threat from development.

The illustrations brim with joy, but the subtext is unmistakable: the beauty we take for granted

is vanishing.

“When commissioning an environment picture book, we love to hear story ideas that spark curiosity, foster wonder and a love for nature.

The story always comes first,” says Bijal Vachharajani, commissioning editor at Pratham Books. “For instance, Rajiv Eipe’s picture book Hello Sun has a memorable character, a familiar setting, and lots of warmth, joy and humour. The book joyfully introduces readers to the many denizens we share our home planet with, and also celebrates the relationship between them and the boy.”

For Vachharajani, hope is not an optional extra — it is the pulse of the work. “Children are already experiencing the impact of the climate crisis and books can help them understand and navigate their realities. Hope offers the space to imagine a better future.”

Story As Shelter

A good children’s climate story, Vachharajani says, is a shelter — an imaginative space where difficult realities can be encountered at a pace children can bear. In The Night the Moon Went Missing, a young girl’s quest to bring the moon back becomes a metaphor for environmental restoration. The aim is to cultivate connection.

In Uttarakhand’s rural hills, the Kitaab Club works to make that connection tangible. “Reading literature allows children to become much larger than themselves, and gives them the vocabulary to talk about their surroundings,” says co-founder Sneha Misran. “Another beautiful thing is when children can relate what is happening in the stories to their own lives. They believe they are the main character. If the character is going on a quest, they feel like they are going on the quest.”

When it comes to climate change, Misran finds, there’s no need to force relevance — the children already see it. “They absorb that it is happening to their areas and surroundings, and that they want to do something about it.”

Drawing The Future

In Arunachal Pradesh, illustrator Ogin Nayam remembers growing up without picture books — “All I had was Tinkle and Archies,” he says. But what he did have was an imagination fed by the landscape. “I love that I can make anything I want on paper. Children are open to

make-believe things and are almost more likely to be affected than adults.”

Though he never set out to be an “environmental illustrator,” collaborations with publishers like Pratham made climate themes inescapable. When working with Easterine Kire on All the Missing Socks, she told him his work felt magical “because I live so close to heaven.” In Arunachal’s traditional worldview, he explains, humans are at the bottom of a pyramid topped by animals, then nature, and finally the spiritual realm. His art emerges from that hierarchy — a quiet insistence that the planet’s other inhabitants come first.

Reading As Repair

In the mountain town of Dharamshala, a group of children gathers for Children’s Books For All, a reading club founded by Arushi Ralli. Here, stories are read through a “psycho-socio-emotional lens,” exploring how narratives speak to children’s inner worlds and help them navigate external crises.

“Reading these stories helps us sit with ecological grief,” says Ralli. “No matter what one person does, it feels like it isn’t enough. Reading gives children

a space to express and ask questions. When children get together, feelings get the space to flow, and there is a supportive network.”

The sessions are deeply participatory: a book becomes a springboard for etched out emotions, roleplay, and shared reflection. “Stories bring out feelings that are inside but which are hard to explain. It becomes less threatening to be vulnerable. Curiosity is evoked through illustrations.”

Ralli resists the idea of shielding children from environmental truths. “It is adults who struggle to talk about daunting concepts because we don’t know what to do when they feel a lot. Children are naturally more empathetic and more connected to the world than us, and we are doing them a disservice when we don’t tell them the truth.”

The New Canon

Vachharajani, who has written books such as A Cloud Called Bhura and Savi and the Memory Keeper, describes her process as deeply researched, leavened with humour and hope. “The illustrations don’t mirror the words but are their own narratives,” she says. “Children love pouring over details, and art has its visual language.”

A decade ago, the shelves of Indian children’s libraries were dominated by fairy tales and moral fables. Today, environmental consciousness is woven into the fabric of storytelling itself. Publishers like Eklavya, Tulika, and Pratham, illustrators like Nayam, educators like Ralli, and outreach programmes like Kitaab Club are shaping a generation that might grow up seeing the planet not as a backdrop, but as part of themselves — a ferociously beautiful, delicate whole to be cared for.

As climate impacts accelerate, the need for nuanced, empathetic, and locally resonant narratives will only intensify. For now, the flamingos in Tulika’s book take flight each summer, winging their way across fragile habitats — their journey traced in the minds of children who may one day decide whether those skies remain open.