Sharenting—the uneasy blend of sharing and parenting—has turned everyday childhood into public theatre. Toddlers reciting poems, school prizes, even tears of frustration — all captured, posted, and stored forever. What once lived in family albums now resides in the cloud, open to strangers and searchable for eternity. It feels like love, like celebration. Yet what it often leaves behind is a digital footprint that children never chose to leave.

In India, the conversation around dignity and consent in the digital age is finally beginning to sharpen. The Delhi High Court recently ordered the removal of unauthorised online content misusing Aishwarya Rai Bachchan’s name and images; Abhishek Bachchan won a similar case days later. These rulings underscore what the law is slowly recognising — that each of us owns our face, our voice, our very likeness.

And when it comes to children, there are specific protections parents should know. The Digital Personal Data Protection Act, 2023 (DPDP Act) requires verifiable parental consent for processing a child’s data, prohibits tracking and profiling, and places a duty on companies to act in the best interests of the child. In short, children, too, have a right to privacy, dignity, and the chance to decide what story the world sees of them.

What the law does not yet address is sharenting itself—the moment when parents, in a rush of affection or habit, become the very agents of overexposure. A shaky clip of a child stumbling through a story may collect “awws” today, but years later, it lingers as an unwanted relic, a digital bruise from a moment meant to pass.

There is, thankfully, a gentler way to honour childhood. Books have always offered it: a story whispered at bedtime, a poem stitched into memory, a picture book that lends colour to a child’s unspoken feelings. Literature preserves without exposing, transforms without freezing. It allows children to see themselves, not as performers on a stage, but as dreamers in a world of possibility. Unlike a reel or a tagged photo, a story does not demand their likeness; it respects their interiority.

It is human to share, and only natural to celebrate the little triumphs of our children. But in these tender years, the greater gift is not another video uploaded into the endless scroll, but a moment of privacy wrapped in the quiet company of books. Childhood is fleeting, fragile, luminous—it deserves to be lived, not broadcast.

(Words by Ripal Abhay Dixit)