(This short story explores parenting and the way adults respond to children. It highlights how listening to children can create a calmer and more peaceful home.)
Fayaz was a construction labourer. He was quite skilled at plastering and finishing the inner walls of houses. He usually found work in his own village, but whenever work was scarce, he would travel to nearby villages in search of employment.
Once, he got a plastering job at Mushtaq’s house in Nurpur. The house was large and there was plenty of work to do. Fayaz estimated that it would take him at least ten days to finish it.
Every morning, he would begin work early and continue working until late in the evening. As the days passed, Fayaz began noticing the atmosphere inside the house. He often heard children crying, shouting and arguing. There seemed to be frequent tension between the children and their mother.
If the children asked for milk, they were offered curd. If they asked for rice to eat, they were given tea. Even when they asked for a pen or notebook for school, they would often be scolded.
The atmosphere in the house remained tense. The mother’s harsh way of dealing with the children had begun to affect them. They reacted strongly, and small disagreements often turned into quarrels and even hitting.
Certain words seemed to be heard repeatedly in the house.
“Don’t make noise!”
“Don’t play here!”
“Don’t sit there!”
It seemed as if the children were struggling to breathe freely in their own home. They could not express even their small wishes without fear of being scolded.
As a result, they had also started fighting among themselves. Crying, stubbornness and quarrelling over small matters were gradually becoming part of their daily lives.
Fayaz watched all this quietly for several days. One day, while talking to the children’s mother, he casually asked, “Bhabhi ji, how far did you study in school?”
“I have a postgraduate degree,” she replied.
Fayaz fell silent. He was surprised. How could a highly educated woman be so impatient with her own children and so unwilling to listen to them?
A few days later, Fayaz got a three-day job at Aslam’s house in Babapura village.
Fayaz spoke to Mushtaq.
“Brother, I have a little work left at the house of an old acquaintance in Babapura. If you allow me, I would like to go there for two or three days. I will return and complete your work.”
Mushtaq agreed.
Fayaz went to Babapura and started working at Aslam’s house. He continued with his work as usual, but on the second day he noticed something very different.
There was peace in the house.
There were three small children as well, but there was no constant crying, no shouting and no endless quarrelling.
While talking to the woman of the house, Fayaz asked, “Daughter, how far did you study in school?”
She answered simply, “I studied up to the eighth grade. I never got the opportunity to study further. My mother passed away when I was a child, so my education stopped there.”
Fayaz became quiet. He remembered the postgraduate mother in Nurpur and then thought of this woman in Babapura, who had studied only up to the eighth grade.
That evening, at mealtime, Fayaz noticed something else.
The mother served the children first. She looked at her seven-year-old son and asked, “Son, what would you like today, meat or chicken?”
“Meat,” he replied.
Then she asked the other child, “Would you like milk or curd?”
“Curd,” he said.
She placed two plates in front of her little daughter and gently asked, “Which plate would you like to eat from, this one or that one?”
The little girl pointed to one of them.
“All right,” the mother said. “Eat from that one.”
Fayaz quietly watched the scene.
The children were expressing what they wanted, and their mother was listening. There was no scolding, no anger and no impatience. The children ate peacefully.
That night, Fayaz kept thinking about what he had seen. He remembered the house in Nurpur, where the children were often scolded even for asking for simple things. They would then cry, argue and make the atmosphere of the house unpleasant.
Here, the children were almost the same age, yet the atmosphere was completely different.
Three days later, Fayaz returned to Nurpur and resumed his work.
After a while, he again heard the familiar sounds of crying and shouting. One of the children was asking for milk, and his mother was scolding him.
Fayaz remained silent for a while. Then he spoke gently.
“Bhabhi ji, may I say something? Please don’t take it the wrong way.”
“Yes, go ahead,” she said.
“Try asking the children what they want before answering them. You often scold them before even hearing what they are saying.”
“But he is asking for milk,” the woman replied. “I want to give him curd.”
“Then ask him,” Fayaz said. “If he wants milk, give him milk. If he wants curd, give him curd. There is no need to scold him every time.”
The woman asked the child. The child told her what he wanted, and she accepted his choice.
Fayaz smiled and said, “Listening to a child does not make a home smaller. It makes the home more peaceful.”
The next day, another child asked for something. Fayaz again gently said, “Listen to him first.”
The mother asked the child what he wanted. He explained his wish, and she listened.
Slowly, Fayaz’s words began to make a difference.
The children were no longer scolded for every little thing. Their mother began asking before answering. The children, too, began to feel that their voices mattered.
The mobile phone was no longer handed to them every time simply to keep them quiet.
After a few days, Fayaz noticed a clear change.
There was less noise in the house. The children were no longer crying all the time. They expressed themselves and waited for an answer. Their mother, too, was no longer angry all the time.
Even Fayaz felt more peaceful while working there.
One day, the head mason came to see the work. After watching for a while, he smiled and said, “Fayaz, what have you done to this house? Earlier, the children’s shouting never seemed to stop. Now there is so much peace.”
Fayaz smiled lightly.
“I have done nothing. I simply saw in another house how the children were asked what they wanted before being answered. I just shared that thought here.”
“That’s all?” the head mason asked.
“Yes, that’s all,” Fayaz replied, continuing to plaster the wall. “Before scolding children all the time, we should sometimes listen to them. Perhaps they are not being stubborn. Perhaps they are simply trying to explain what they feel.”
He returned to his work.
His hands moved steadily over the wall, but one thought had become clear in his mind.
The walls of a house are built with bricks and plaster, but the peace of a home is built through good attitudes and caring behaviour.
This is not just the story of one home. It is the story of every village, every city and every country.
A home that listens to its children is, in the truest sense, a peaceful home.
Author is former District Information Officer. He can be mailed at yousufmir555@gmail.com
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