By Christina K Sangma
I flew on a flying carpet, and it was most wonderful. I raided the dragon’s dungeons, and I must tell you, the most horrific part was not the dragons, but his mother telling him not to scare humans.
Laughs were heard, and it was a well-satisfied day.
“Thank you, Miss June. Your stories always make me smile,” said young Susan.
I was a librarian. Children came on Saturday afternoons for story reads, and I happily told them stories I made up at that very moment.
I was a little lost in life, honestly. I wasn’t a full-time librarian, you see. I had only taken up that job because I didn’t exactly know what to do.
But these children sparked a joy in my heart and let my dreams come true.
In all truth, they made my stories come true.
It was on a very sunny afternoon that Mr. Sharma dropped off his granddaughter, who was new to the Saturday reads. I was overjoyed to see her and especially enjoyed talking to her. At the end of the read, she told me,
“I wish I could read your stories again and again, Miss June,”
and that sparked an idea in me.
I told the senior librarian what I wanted to do, and she agreed. So, on the next Saturday reading day, I brought all my pens, bought new ones, sketchbooks, colours, paints, and lots of craft materials. I made sure each child had everything they needed.
It was Saturday, and I told the children that we would be making a book.
They were all so excited and happy! They chose the story of the dragons, and so we continued. They drew the backgrounds, the dragon characters, the cover, each page had a unique touch, as each page was illustrated by a different student.
The joy on their faces was the highlight of my day.
It was ready, an odd book of differently illustrated art, but unique and one of a kind.
The senior librarian guided me on how to get it published.
I went to the local publishing house, but they weren’t as ready to take it on. They said,
“It’s an odd book. Nobody would buy it.”
They said the character design wasn’t consistent, and everything looked different.
But that was the entire point, so that if children read it, they would feel the uniqueness.
I wanted this book to come alive, especially for the children.
They were so excited when I told them they would become young illustrators. I didn’t want them to feel disappointed.
Weeks went by, but the children didn’t seem to feel bad about the book not being published. Instead, I saw them issue the book from the library, and then another child would do the same.
Months later, a child and their parents came to me. The smile on the mother’s face was unimaginable.
She told me how her child had come home and showed her the illustrated book and how proud they were. That’s when I realised that all the children had taken turns bringing the book home to show their parents the book they had made.
That woman then also told me that she owned a printing press and that she was ready to print the book.
Months later, we had the printed book in our hands. Each child had their own copy and a proud parent standing behind them.
The book might not have come from a big publishing house, but it was there, in the local libraries and in the homes of happy children.
Children who believed.
Children who were so, so happy.