What happens when a bomb decides it doesn’t want to explode? What if, beneath the metal casing and the chaos of war, the bomb also has feelings? The fear of not fitting in, the weight of shame, the loneliness, and the pain of not finding belongingness anywhere.
The idea came to author of The Baby Bomb (Harper Collins), Govind Sandhu the way the best ideas do, through frustration, empathy, and a haunting archive of images — war photographers’ portraits of hollow-eyed children, and old photographs of World War II-era bombs half-buried in sand while kids played nearby, blissfully unaware of what they’d found. From that collision of innocence and devastation, a character was born.
“The story was born out of the senseless suffering I saw of children in these wars. I felt exasperated with the thought that humans have been fighting each other for centuries and doesn’t look like they are going to stop any time soon. And very lightly, a thought was born — what if the weapons themselves refuse to let us fight? Perhaps that’s the only answer,” he says.
For illustrator Allen Shaw, the invitation to join the project arrived with an urgency that only deepened over time. “When I was invited to be a part of this project, the Ukraine war had just started, and look at where we are today with so many wars going on at the same time. This book to me is that tiny little light all of us are hoping to see in a world that’s getting darker and darker,” he says.
Excerpts from an interview with Govind Sandhu:
The book opens with a nod to the ‘Fat Man’, the first atom bomb ever dropped. What drew you to root for Baby’s story in that history, and how did you balance the weight of that legacy with the lightness of a children’s narrative?
It was very organic, but once it came, it anchored the emotional burden for Baby as a character, and the contrast brought out Baby’s plight. The other aspect was that Hiroshima is so entrenched in human history and psyche till today, children from every generation know about it. Its symbolism, very subtly at the outset, brings out the consequences and futility of war without having to say a single graphic word or description, protecting the children in a sense, yet making the point.
The book was inspired by the plight of children in Gaza and Ukraine. At a time when the world is grappling with ongoing conflicts, was it important for you to say about innocence and the absence of choice?
There was a lot to say on that. Children truly are a form of God. They are pure and have an uncorrupted innocence. You can see that in their eyes. Every picture you see of children caught in wars you will not see fear, you will not see sadness, you will have an emptiness of not knowing why? Why is this happening to us? This book is to give them courage to make a choice and overcome it. It’s about friendship through adversity and making a change. Hope their generation can take that away, they can be the change so the ones to follow don’t suffer like they did.
The excerpt describing the ammunition dump is both playful and unsettling. How did you find the tone to make that world feel both funny and frightening?
Yes, I’m glad you saw that. It is the subtext of a glimpse into a world obsessed with war and destruction transformed into an interesting and engaging cast of characters. The characters while bragging destructive skills as subtext, are put together engaging fun filled in tone in the characters. Dark implications in light visual language I would imagine.
Ista’s mother’s death is a quiet but powerful moment in the story. How did you approach writing grief for a young audience, and what did you want readers to take away from that loss?
That is a pivotal moment in the story. It brings him back face to face with what he has been trying to escape. It brings it back into his new life. I could see that scene so clearly in my head, the back light of the blast in the ocean as the silhouette emerged. There are many Istas and their mothers in Gaza, Ukraine, and Iran today. Make what you will of it.
Scar the turtle and the life beneath the ocean feels like a world unto themselves. What was your vision for the underwater setting, and how does it reflect the book’s larger themes of belonging and identity?
To be honest, I had ‘Finding Nemo’ as the backdrop in my head. Well, it is a key part of Baby’s journey, it’s his stage of escapism where he is trying to recreate his life by hiding his past but unfortunately the past finds him. Facing his past, honestly, gives him a sense of purpose. The key theme is to face yourself and fight your adversity, not run away from it.
The line ‘It was comforting to have friends who didn’t judge you’ stayed with me long after I finished reading. Was this one of the central themes of the book?
No, it wasn’t the central theme. However, it is an important part of his story. Friendship is after all about accepting people for who they are. The whole purpose of having friends is that they will be around for the ride, through the highs and lows, the rights and wrongs of your journey. In Baby’s case they gave him the strength to follow purpose once he found it.
Your message for the readers?
I feel privileged that the story found its way into the world. I hope Baby’s story is able to take the children into his world and be relatable for their personal journeys and give them courage to be agents of change for the better like Baby was. Also, I hope the intersections of his entrapment into violence without choice is able to spark some introspection in the grown ups and make a positive change for the innocent children caught in today’s wars.
Excerpts from an interview with Allen Shaw:
Tell us about the choice of colour palette. How did the conversation with Govind shape your visual interpretation of Baby’s world?
My first reaction to the text was of course a visual one. To extract the essence of it, I broke it down to a very specific colour palette, which I thought would go with the general mood and feeling the text evokes. Initially, I thought of a very grey, sombre, melancholic colour palette with a dash of red and yellow to give the element of ‘HOPE’, later, I removed the yellow and added a set of blues to the palette. The attached document* was a part of the proposal I had sent to Govind. My initial conversations with Govind were more about my love for history and the fact that I live in Berlin which still bears the scars of the second world war. I also shared my favourite wartime story of HOPE from the Berlin Airlift (1948-1949) with him, where a pilot from the US Air Force was dropping candies to German children, for which he was nicknamed “Berlin Candy Bomber”, I simply love the fact that one can flip the whole purpose of something negative with one simple thought and turn it into something so positive and beautiful. The Baby Bomb had that magical factor. Our conversations helped me a lot to arrive at these visuals.
The book challenges our perception of sharks and ocean life. How did you do you think your illustrating asks readers to rethink their assumptions about who or what is dangerous?
As a visual storyteller, I look for beauty in everything and I feel if we look at the same subject from different vantage points we get fresh perspectives. Since the story itself was about changing perspectives, it was easy to ride on it and create visuals/characters that helped the cause further. Through the visuals I create, I am not asking anyone to subscribe to my point of view but it’s an honest appeal to see other sides of the same thing and if that helps in changing some perceptions, I am not complaining.
You have kept sketchbooks for 25 years and trained in animation filmmaking. How did that sensibility find its way into the pages of this book?
Well, my sketchbooks serve as a vast library of visuals. These visuals are my observations, thoughts and experiences over the years. They often work as references for most of my illustrations. While most people go to the internet for references I go to the comfort of my sketchbooks.
My training as an animator helps me look at the world as cinema, something that is in motion, when I sketch I just freeze one frame but in my head it’s always a moving image. As an illustrator the thought is always to freeze the movement in one frame but choosing that frame is important because the audience should also see it as a film and not a single image.