“This is about my emotions. I have said everything in this book. Please read it. I hope you like it.” This is what Dinda wrote on page 7 under “Acknowledgement.”

I must admit, it’s not easy to write this piece – simply because it’s about my cucu. Granddaughter, in English. You see, she has written a book all by herself. At the age of six. Of course, I’m proud of her.

But by writing about her ability and achievement, I risk being seen as blowing my own trumpet – or, worse still, showing off. But then, credit must be given where it’s due.

Right? If we can agree on that, here goes.

Her name is Dinda Rizkya. Her mum, Nadia (she’s my daughter), is Malaysian, obviously.

Dad is Indonesian from Aceh. He works in a TV station in Jakarta. Long story short, two years ago, Dinda and her mum left Kuala Lumpur to stay with her dad in the Indonesian capital.

Dinda is never shy. Making new friends is no problem for her – even in Jakarta, where she initially didn’t know how to speak Indonesian. And make new friends she did.

Having done that, she is determined the friendship must be kept. In her own words, “forever and ever.” She has always been like that.

That’s why she continues to keep in touch with friends in KL, especially her Malaysian best friend.

I say “Malaysian” because she now has Indonesian besties too. Hence, the title of her book.

Anyway, in July, during her nightly reading routine before bed, Dinda’s Bunda (Indonesian for mother) randomly asked her, “Dinda, if I wrote a book, would you read it?”

To this, Dinda replied with confidence, “What do you mean I’ll only read yours? I’ll write my own book for you and the whole world to read.”

Bunda chuckled at her daughter’s unexpected declaration, not taking it seriously.

However, to her surprise, the very next day, Dinda reminded her about the conversation. “Come on, Bunda. I’m ready to start Chapter One of my book,” she said eagerly.

When asked why she wanted to write a book, Dinda replied, “I want to pour out my emotions about friendship.”

Touched by her sincerity, Bunda said, “Alright then. If you believe you can do it and really want to, let’s make it happen.”

And the rest, as they say (though it’s terribly cliché), is history.

She began “pouring her emotions” on her mum’s laptop in mid-July. It took her two months to complete. Writing was “interrupted” by school and after-school activities. Believe me, she has plenty.

Dinda is hands-on. Everything in the book is hers – from the title to the storyline, illustrations, and drawings (yes, she draws as well). She had the final say on everything and worked with Edi, the layout artist, who is her dad’s friend.

As Edi is based in Kalimantan, communication was via email and WhatsApp. According to her mum, Dinda is very picky and fussy. Every single detail, major or minor, had to be exactly the way she wanted it.

Sometime in September – or was it October? – the manuscript was ready.

Edi worked on the artwork, need I repeat, supervised closely by Dinda. The book comprises 12 chapters and 95 pages.

The “dummy” was sent to the printers in Yogyakarta, some 8 hours away by road. Why print outside Jakarta? For obvious reasons – cost. This is a self-published project.

We (mum, dad, and yours truly) decided the original script should be maintained, spelling mistakes and all, exactly as Dinda wrote it. A corrected version, courtesy of her mum, was added alongside the original writing.

There are also several quizzes at the end of some chapters. This was Dinda’s idea – the questions relate to the earlier chapters (to ensure readers focus on what they’re reading?). But sorry, no prizes for getting the answers right.

According to the editor, the editing was kept minimal so as not to lose the originality of the book. Who is the editor? Yours truly, naturally.

So, what’s the book about? “This is about my emotions. I have said everything in this book. Please read it. I hope you like it.” This is what Dinda wrote on page 7 under “Acknowledgement.”

As I see it, and as I wrote in the book’s foreword, the story is about love, friendship, and hope. Love for her friends and hope for everlasting friendship. Dinda do not like goodbyes.

She didn’t like saying goodbye to family and friends when she left Kuala Lumpur for Jakarta. And she didn’t like it when she had to say goodbye to new friends in kindergarten in Jakarta to attend primary school.

Probably the goodbye she hated most was during the pandemic, when dad was in Jakarta, and she was in Kuala Lumpur. It would be three years before Dinda would see her dad again.

The book, however, is also about moving on – making new friends without forgetting old ones. That, to me, is the beauty of Dinda’s book. She wrote it from the heart, innocently yet with doses of the wit you’d expect from a six-year-old child.

Dinda is very proud of her book, and she has every right to be. After all the work she put into it, she has already set her sights on her second book – about a girl whose right eye can see the future while her left eye can see the past. It could be a bestseller.

Never mind if the one saying that is her grandfather himself.

Note: *Dinda’s book, entitled “Four Friends and I Am One of Them,” was launched on Saturday, 23 November 2024, at the beautiful Eco Park in South Jakarta.

The launch was covered by TV Sarawak. The book has been enjoying media attention from Indonesian news portals. Sales have been good so far.

A Jakarta-based production company is exploring the possibility of adapting the book into a movie. But for now, it’s just an idea. Meanwhile, two publishers have offered to work on Dinda’s second book.*

Dinda’s dream of becoming a writer stem from a truly beautiful intention. Not only she wants everyone to read her book but also to encourage others to believe in their potential to write a book of their own.

This aspiration even extended to me. “Come on, Atuk! Write your own book,” she tells me.

 My parting words are these: We never put Dinda up to all this. We didn’t force her. Of course, there will be folks who have a problem accepting this fact.

That’s their problem, not ours.

(Mohsin Abdullah is a veteran journalist and now a freelancer who writes about this, that and everything else.)