In today’s Indian children’s books, the planet isn’t just background scenery—it’s the heartbeat of the story. A girl named Savi learns from an ancient tree that her climate-perfect city, Shajarpur, is slipping into danger, and only she can save it. In Mumbai, young Zara rolls up her sleeves to turn a forgotten dump yard on Sunderbaag Street into a garden. And in a haunting reimagining of a fairytale, No White wanders a world where the snow has vanished and the seven friends work in a mine.
These are not the moral lectures, but plotlines in children’s books that swap sermons for action, and guilt for grit. Rooted in the heat, dust, and monsoons of children’s neighbourhoods, they spark imagination while grounding young readers in the reality of their changing world. The message is clear: the climate crisis isn’t somewhere else, sometime later. It’s here, and the heroes who can change it are already on the page.
The spark was lit in 2019 when Bijal Vachharajani’s A Cloud Called Bhura hit the shelves. The eco-fantasy about a smog monster taking over Mumbai quickly became a bestseller, proving there was both appetite and urgency for such narratives.
“There is definitely a keen interest in writing on the environment and climat e change for children,” says Meghaa Gupta, author, publishing consultant, and curator of the Nature Writing for Children course at Azim Premji University. “As many as 40-45 English titles of environmental fiction and non-fiction for children are released in a year. Then there are translations and books in Indian languages. Publishers across the board—big or small— are interested in publishing such titles because it is a subject that is becoming increasingly urgent.” In a newsletter edited by Gupta and Vidya Mani solely focusing on children’s books on environment, there are usually more new books than space to feature them.
Writers, too, are pushing boundaries in how they frame the environment for children. No longer a distant theme, it is depicted as immediate and urgent. Illustrations heighten the emotional resonance, while stories often intersect with history, fantasy, activism, and even the emotional journeys of children.
For Vachharajani, the starting point was to make the subject tangible. A Cloud Called Bhura was written when she learnt about the Asian brown cloud, a layer of air pollution that recurrently covers South Asia. Instead of overwhelming readers with complexity, she recast it as something familiar, hovering just above their heads. “I have always been fascinated by how children question and care so much; they are the best readers,” she says. The response has been consistent ever since her first book. Her subsequent titles—including Savi and the Memory Keeper and Go Wild—have only deepened her reputation as one of the strongest voices in this space.
The range of subjects is expanding. Wildlife remains a favourite, but newer themes are emerging: urban restoration, mining, tribal rights, extreme weather, human–wildlife conflict, public health, and agriculture. “When I started my work in this area six years ago, green literature was seen narrowly as writing about forests, wildlife, or climate,” says Gupta. “Now, I’m glad to see that it has broadened.”
The list is not limited to fiction. Non-fiction, too, is gaining ground, with titles like Gupta’s Unearthed: The Environmental History of Independent India and Ranjit Lal’s Our Potpourri Planet.
For Nandita da Cunha, who left her job as a management consultant at KPMG to write full-time, inspiration often comes from real-world changemakers. Her popular book The Miracle on Sunderbaag Street is based on residents who transformed an abandoned BMC plot in Bandra into a community center. “I don’t think of my books as climate fiction. I write about themes that affect us, and many of them happen to be about the environment because it is everywhere.”
The Green Lit Fest has also carved out a special section dedicated to young readers, with climate fiction being a prominent theme. Independent bookstores like Funky Rainbow and Champaca regularly host monthly readings of eco-fiction for kids. “Schools are keen on environmental literature for kids, so are nature educators, NGOs, librarians, even theatre directors,” says educator Sujatha Padmanabhan, who has long worked on environment education at Kalpavriksh. “Two of our stories were even staged in Mumbai and Bangalore.”
Megha Vishwanath turned to these books to deepen her daughter’s connection with the world around her. “She enjoys these titles because they are relatable—we’ve traveled to many of the regions the books are set in, whether it’s beach towns, forests, or backwaters,” she says. “There’s a kind of deeper appreciation when these books provide her with a context.”
Illustrations play a pivotal role, often doing as much storytelling as the text. Priya Kuriyan, for instance, uses 3D images and draws quirky characters in Sunderbaag Street to make the stories fun for young readers.
Vidya Mani, co-founder of Funky Rainbow, says, “There is little visibility of these books because publishers don’t invest in marketing and publicity. Print runs for children’s books average 2,000-5,000 copies, and marketing budgets are almost non-existent.”
As the popularity grows, Mani hopes big publishers will invest more in publicity. The stories that children so dearly love can only find their true strength in the collective effort of all.
