For children: Things keep getting in the way of a park clean-up drive. What can Nami and Jhalak do?

They took hundreds of pictures and forwarded them on WhatsApp. Everybody sent them thumbs-up emojis and motivational messages.

Hero Uncle and Seema Aunty created a “Save Town Park” page on Instagram and Facebook. They got 20 followers immediately. And then 20 became 30, 40…100. And paused.

“Never mind, never mind,” said Jhalak’s mother. “It’ll pick up.”

“But it needs to pick up now!” moaned Jhalak.

The hashtag #SaveNalaPark refused to trend, no matter what. Nobody cared about one stinky canal.

One journalist – a friend of Seema Aunty’s – wrote a tiny piece about the park. But the piece seemed to focus on how wonderful the children were for being climate champions, rather than about actually getting something done. Yet, the girls ploughed on, talking to everyone. They convinced their classmates to write postcards. They talked about their ibises and storks, lapwings and herons to everyone who would listen.

But Nala Park remained closed.

Each evening, Nami and Jhalak went to Nala Park and stared at the gate. The cold blue lettering stared back at them.

Then, suddenly one day, the park was not closed.

“Nooo!” cried Jhalak. “How can they do that? No! No! NO!”

An enormous earthmover with terrifying caterpillar wheels rumbled through the Nala Park gateway. Even as they watched, a second earthmover followed and knocked into the ‘Town Park’ sign.

Everyone laughed.

Everyone except Nami and Jhalak.

The girls ran behind the earthmovers.

“Hey, hey, hey! This place is closed now!” called an official-looking person blocking their path. “No more playing inside!”

“But-but the banyan tree inside is ours!” cried Nami.

The official pointed to the board. “No, it belongs to Garden View. It – ugh! This place stinks!” He turned to the man next to him.

“I’m glad it’s finally becoming something… civilised. Yuck!”

“I’m NOT glad!” shouted Jhalak. “No one wants Garden View Developers! And we’re going to stop you!”

The two men chuckled. “Really?”

“Garden View has bought it, girls,” said one of them, not unkindly. “Find another place to play. Don’t waste your time.”

“Or ours,” said the other.

They shooed the children out and closed the gates. The Town Park sign hung lopsidedly, threatening to fall.

Jhalak’s lip quivered. “I hope it falls on their heads,” she said, viciously. “They—”

Nami gritted her teeth. “We must show them. We must!”

“What we’re doing isn’t enough. It just isn’t. Come, let’s Google it.”

The girls ran back to Jhalak’s place. They pulled out a book, 10 Indian Champions Who Are Fighting to Save the Planet. They read about all kinds of climate warriors, but they wanted more. They wanted to know what they could do as children. On Jhalak’s tablet, they hunted online, searching for children who had created change. Greta Thunberg was the first to show up, but there were so many more! Aged nine, Ridhima Pandey had filed a suit against the Indian government for not doing enough to combat climate change. Ten-year-old Licypriya Kangujam had used social media to push for climate action and even attended the COP26 summit. Nami and Jhalak wanted to do that, too! Use social media to create change. But how? Children in Bali had organised clean-ups and sent petitions to the government. A boy had brought electricity to his village.

“But what do they actually do?” asked Nami. “How do we protest?”

“Look!” Jhalak’s face slowly lit up. “Fridays for Future. It’s everywhere, see? Fridays for Future India! And oh! There are so many others, state-wise and city-wise!’ They went through the lists and found Punjab, Tamil Nadu, Bareilly, Ghazipur, Sikkim…the list was endless!

“We should do something like this! A school strike outside Nala Park, part of the Fridays for Future movement. More people will join in if it’s part of something like this; I’m sure of it!”

“But will Sanya Ma’am allow it?”

“She’s got to!” said Jhalak. “Let’s write a letter to her.”

“Yes!”

They wrote rough copies and more rough copies and then a few almost fair copies. When they felt it was ready to send to the principal, Nami with her neat handwriting, wrote it out one last time.

“25 August 2023

Dear Sanya Ma’am,

We, Jhalak Tapnis and Nami Tejwani, are writing to you with a request.

We are sure you have heard of Greta Thunberg from Sweden, who is fighting climate change. Like so many other people, we are inspired by her. We want to be part of Fridays for Future, India!

Near our house in Netaji Vihar, there is a beautiful park. It is a little smelly, but we have been cleaning the canal to make it less smelly. We see many birds there (pictures attached), like lapwings, kingfishers, ibises, egrets and even storks. However, a company called Garden View Developers has bought it, and we want to stop them from destroying our park.

This is our plan.

On Friday, could you let the whole school come to Town Park to protest? We promise to behave well. Please. We think this is our only chance to save Nala Park.

Thank you.

Yours sincerely,

Jhalak Tapnis and Nami Tejwani

Class IV E”

“Do you think it will work?” asked Nami.

“I hope—” Jhalak stopped and nodded fiercely. “Yes. It will work. We will make it work.”

Excerpted with permission from Nami and Jhalak: Stinkypur Guardians, Varsha Seshan, Scholastic India.