Rishita was on an airplane with no screens and one notebook. Somewhere over the clouds she started inventing puzzles for herself — and didn't stop until she had a book.
Three hours into a flight, out of snacks and out of patience, Rishita drew a maze for herself. Then a secret code. Then a bird with goggles who'd crash-landed and needed help getting home. The bird got a name — Piko — and suddenly it wasn't doodling anymore. It was a rescue mission.
Cousins, classmates, one very patient neighbour — everything in the book survived real playtesting. Too easy? Cut. Too boring? Cut. The jokes had to make at least one grown-up groan out loud to qualify.
Printing, spellings, chai, and figuring out what "ISBN" means. That's the official division of labour, and Rishita would like it noted that her half was harder.
"Got a big idea too? Don't wait till you're grown up. Make it. I did!"
— Rishita