Designing for Joy: What We Learned from a Day of Play

By Pritika Joseph 

This piece brings together thoughts and reflections from our Playmakers Anjana, Ria, Vinitha, Allan, and others who were part of the International Day of Play celebrations 2025. 

Bringing Play Into a New Space

June 11th, 2025 was our second year celebrating the UN International Day of Play at Papagoya. When the United Nations announced this day, we were overjoyed! It felt like the world was finally saying out loud what we’ve always believed at Papagoya: play truly matters.

Last year, we opened up our Kindergarten centres for an hour of play, inviting families from both within and outside the Papagoya community to come and play with us. Play is a big part of our everyday life, for us and our children. So this year, we wanted to take it further. We took play beyond our walls and into the heart of Bangalore. In partnership with Sabha, an arts and crafts community space in the city, we hosted an open play event for children from across Bangalore.

Over 60 children from across the city, including those from Sabha’s neighbourhood children’s programme, filled the space. They came with different stories, different ages (from 1 to 12!), but the moment doors opened, none of that mattered. We had planned the event for the children, but by the end of the day, it reminded us why play matters so much: because it brings joy, brings people together, and speaks to something truly human.

Saying “Yes” to Play

One of the things we noticed through the hour was how often children looked to us for permission. Not help, just an “is this okay?”. At the Lego station, a child walked up holding his friend’s hand and asked, “Can my friend also play with the train tracks?”. There was something so sincere and hopeful in that question. And the moment he heard, “Yes, of course,” his whole face lit up, and the two of them ran off together to play. It was a small exchange, but one that really stayed with us. 

At the Playdough station, a child sweetly asked, “Can I mix two colours?”. She shared that she’s usually told not to at home and in school, and that playdough is something she was allowed to use only for projects. When we told her she could use the playdough any way she wanted and try whatever she liked, she looked surprised. But she stayed and played, slowly growing more confident. 

There were a few such moments that reminded us how much it matters to say, “Yes, this space is for you.” We didn’t give instructions. We didn’t tell them what to build or how to play. Just knowing they were welcome made all the difference. You could see it in how they relaxed, how their play became more open and joyful. It reminded us that when children feel safe to ask and free to try, something shifts, for them, and for us.

In the Moment, With the Children

As the hour went on, we found ourselves watching not just what the children were doing, but how they were doing it. There was something about the way they played that made us pause, a kind of focus, joy, and presence that felt rare. 

At the Playdough station, the designs children created were intricate, thoughtful, and completely their own. They didn’t look to us for praise or approval. They didn’t ask, “Is this good?” or “Can I take it home?”. They just created, played, and moved on. When we tried to pack up their creations as little takeaways, many of them simply smiled and moved on. It felt like they had already received what they came for: the joy of making, the joy of being in the moment. It reminded us how deeply in the moment children are when they play. They’re not thinking about what to keep, or how to share it later. They’re just there, curious, focused, and completely in it. And it made us wonder: how often do we, as adults, give ourselves that kind of presence? 

Storytime gave us another glimpse into this quiet kind of presence and ease. Even with the buzz of people around, children began to gather quietly on their own. There were no announcements or calls to “come sit.” They just came. Some sat and listened. Some held the props. Some repeated the lines. Some asked questions. But they were all there, listening in their own way, fully part of the moment. We often talk about different kinds of storytellers. But that day reminded us that there are different kinds of listeners too. Some children leaned in quietly. Others jumped in with their own versions. Some just wanted to hold the characters and be close to the story. Being in that space with them reminded us: play doesn’t always ask for performance. It asks for presence. And the children showed us, again and again, what that can look like.

They Came, They Played, They Stayed

That evening, we didn’t set out to teach or guide. We simply opened up the space and let play lead the way. What we saw in return was more than just activity. It was children thinking, creating, negotiating, helping, questioning, and imagining. Whether they were mixing colours, building towers, or asking for more paint, there was meaning in every moment. It reminded us that play isn’t something we have to plan to the last detail. Sometimes, it just needs a thoughtful space, a few open-ended materials, and a group of people who are willing to say, “This is for you.”

As we stepped out of Sabha that day, tired, full of clay, slime and paint on our clothes, and filled with stories, what stayed with us wasn’t what the children built, but how they arrived in the space. With curiosity, trust, and so much presence. They explored freely, asked boldly, helped one another, and reminded us what play looks like when it's truly theirs. 

As educators, it was a pause, a moment to step back and take note: 

1. What shifts in a child when they’re met with a simple gesture of welcome?

2. What makes it possible for play to unfold so freely between strangers, across ages, without a single instruction?

3. How do stories draw children in, even amidst movement, sound, and distraction?

It reminded us that play doesn’t ask for much, just a space that feels safe, and the freedom for children to make it their own. And as we carried these questions with us, it reminded us of why we do what we do, and how deeply important it is to keep holding space for wonder, for choice, and for the unexpected moments that unfold when we simply let children be.

About the Author: 

Pritika Joseph is the Head of Curriculum at Papagoya Kindergarten, where she leads with the belief that children learn best when they feel seen, heard, and free to be themselves. A quiet child herself, she now works to create learning spaces where every child’s voice matters. She finds joy in building a curriculum rooted in play, one that follows children’s ideas, makes room for wonder, and always begins with trust.