The Child not Loved by Parents


The Child not Loved by Parents

— M. Menonimus

The Child not Loved by Parents

The Child not Loved by Parents

As soon as the school clock strikes half-past twelve, we get leisure time for an hour. The students usually come out of their classes in a hurry to play outdoor games like cricket, some students run about here and there as they are conscious of the benefits of running in the open field and some go to the school canteen for refreshments. The teachers who get regular salaries go to the nearby hotel to take their dinner. But the teacher who gets no salary and has been serving honorary for years seems to be in a gloomy mood as they are compelled to remain satisfied with drinking a glass of cold water only. Some of them take only tea and some go to the prayer house to offer the matinee prayer. Usually, during this hour I either go to the prayer house or keep myself busy reading books. But someday, I go to the nearby market called Milan Bazaar.

One day I went neither to the library nor to the prayer but came out of the Teachers’ Common room and went straight to the market. Going there, I sat on a bench that was laid fixed in front of Neha Cloth House. There I saw a child about nine or ten years old sitting in the pose of an Indian sage. He was handsome with bright eyes, and chubby cheeks and seemed calm and quiet. I looked at him and asked, “Boy, who is the manager of the shop?”

He, in a low tone, replied, “My father.” 

“Where is he?” I asked.

 “He has gone to Barpeta Road in the morning.” He said.

“Then who is running in the shop? I asked again.

He replied looking at my eyes, “When my father is off, I become the manager of it and I myself run the shop.”

I thought to myself, “How is it possible? He is only a child.”

Then suddenly he asked me, “Have you taken your food?”

I said, “Yes, I usually take my food in the morning.”

“But I have eaten nothing till now.” He said.


“My mother had not given me food.”

“Why did your mother not give you food?”

“Because my mother doesn’t love me.” He replied looking straight at the far-off street.

I became shocked at his words and asked, “Do your father love you?”

“No, he also does not love me.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

I asked, “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“We are two brothers and a sister.” He said quietly.

“Who is the elder?”

Rasis is the elder, I the younger. We have a little sister also named Lina.”

“How older is your elder brother?” 

“He is two years older than I am,” he said.

I, looking at his hackneyed shirt and pants asked him, “What class do you read in?”

He replied, “Last year I passed class II. But my father would not allow me to go to school more.”

“What is the cause?” I asked.

He said, “I don’t know, but my father beat me if I want to go to school.”

“Doesn’t your mother urge you to go to school?”

“No, my mother also does not allow me to go to school.”

What is your elder brother doing?”

He said, “He is in a Madrassa in Maharashtra.”

“What is he learning there?”

“He is learning the Kuran”, he said.

“Do your parents love him?”

“Yes, they love him something.”

“In which year had he got admitted there?”

“He has been there for the last five years,’ he said.

Do your parents provide him with the monthly expenditure?”

“Yes, they have been sending two thousand rupees monthly.”

The shop was a little one and the clothing items were also scanty. I thought the owner of the shop was a poor one and hence I asked him, “Are you too poor?”

“Yes, we are something poor.”

“Is your father an educated man?”

“Yes, my father is H. S. L. C. passed.”

Is your mother a learned one?”

“No, I heard that she had gone to school for a month only, but read a year in the maktab.”

“Does she offer prayer to God?”

“Yes, my mother offers prayer to God regularly,” he said.

Then I put my hand in my pocket and pull out a ten-rupee note and offered him and said, “Go to the tea stall and get some refreshment.”

He declined my offer and said, “I don’t take tea.”


“My father has prohibited me to take tea,” he said.

Then I said, “Eat whatever you like.”

“No, I shall not take your money.”


“My father would beat me.”

Are you not hungry?”

“Yes, I have been feeling hungry since the morning. After my father’s return from the town, I will go home and then take food,” he said.

I became uneasy at the thought of this boy and begin to think of- what kind of man his father is!

I said, “If your parents do not love you, then come with me to our home. I shall provide you with food and allow you to go to school.” 

‘No, I don’t go to your home.”


“Because my father would beat me, and my mother would cry for me.”

 I became very curious about his parents and wished to meet them because I think the most wretched and poor is the child who is not loved by his parents. I said to the child, “Would you accompany me to your house?”

He replied, “Why?”

“Because I wish to meet your mother and father.”

He said, “Wait sometime my father is to come now.”

“Yes, I can wait for your father, but I want to meet a mother like yours who does not love her child.

“No, please. You need not go to our home. My mother is a good woman, she only does not love me but it is not a matter.”

Already our leisure time expired and I ran off to my class and all day long, my mind kept on thinking over the child.

After about a month, at leisure time, I went to the shop again. It was a very hot day. The road was dusty. The west wind was blowing spreading the dust over our eyes and face. Going there, I sat on the bench and looked at the boy. He was sitting motionless. I noticed that the boy was weeping; tears were flowing off from his cheeks. I said, “Boy, why are you weeping?”

He remained silent and wiping off his tears with his sleeves he said, “My mother is very ill.”

‘What is the disease?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but she has got emaciated.”

“Where is your father?”

He said, “My father has gone to the hospital with my mother.”

I said, “One day you said that your mother does not love you. Then why are you weeping for her?”

He said, “I weep for her because she is my mother.”  0 0 0

The Child not Loved by Parents

N.B.  The short story ‘The Child not Loved by Parents’ originally belongs to the book ‘The Fugitive Father and Other Stories‘ by Menonim Menonimus.

The Child not Loved by Parents

Books of Composition by M. Menonimus:

  1. Advertisement Writing
  2. Amplification Writing
  3. Note Making
  4. Paragraph Writing
  5. Notice Writing
  6. Passage Comprehension
  7. The Art of Poster Writing
  8. The Art of Letter Writing
  9. Report Writing
  10. Story Writing
  11. Substance Writing
  12. School Essays Part-I
  13. School Essays Part-II
  14. School English Grammar Part-I
  15. School English Grammar Part-II..

Books of S. Story by M. Menonimus:

  1. The Fugitive Father and Other Stories
  2. The Prostitute and Other Stories
  3. Neha’s Confession

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I am Menonim Menonimus, a Philosopher & Writer.


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