In this context, the beautifully designed Puffin Treasury of Modern Indian Stories is to be welcomed whole-heartedly. The type size is just right, the illustrations a real pleasure. The writers include some of the most renowned Indian authors, from Salman Rushdie and Vikram Seth to Mahasweta Devi and Satyajit Ray. There’s Anita Desai, and R.K. Narayan, and Bhisham Sahni. Munshi Premchand is represented by his well-known The Festival of Eid, where a little boy uses his precious pocket money, not to buy toys but a pair of tongs that’ll save his grandmother’s fingers from burning when she cooks.
And here I have a quibble with Puffin. Many of the stories are overtly moralistic on issues ranging from the income divide to religious intolerance, giving one the uncomfortable feeling that this is just the sort of anthology which would please a strict headmistress. At least a few of the tales, I’d say, are not for children at all, Desai’s story for instance. And let’s admit, once and for all, that books with children as protagonists do not automatically become children’s books. I speak, of course, of R.K. Narayan’s Swami and Friends.
Other than Ruskin Bond’s delightful Snake Trouble, there’s little humour and very little fun. Other than Ray’s The Hungry Septopus, there’s very little adventure. If Premchand and Dhan Gopal Mukherjee have been included among "modern Indian" writers, then Sukumar Ray’s omission is unpardonable. In the end, though a sincere and tasteful attempt, the book remains largely a collection of stories that politically correct adults would want children to read, and not what children themselves would want to read. The creators of this book seem to be the sort of people who wouldn’t approve of Roald Dahl’s Matilda or The Witches. Which is sad.
