I am a boy of eleven years. My name is (Some Name). I have an elder sister and a younger brother. Both my father and mother are daily-wage-earners. My Father works in building sites. My mother works in a nearby tea factory.

We all live in a beautiful stretch of countryside called (some name). Our small house is a cadjan thatched one situated on a small hillock. It is surrounded by slopes of tea cultivations and stretches of paddy fields. Hence, every morning, our house gets immersed in a shawl of mist.


I go to the village school with my elder sister. I am in grade six and my sister is in grade nine. My younger brother is not old enough to go to school. He is just three years.

I attend school regularly. I never get absent from school without good reason. I have a great respect to my teachers and I listen to them attentively.

My favourite subjects are English and Mathematics. I score the highest marks for those two subjects at every term test.

When I am at home, I help my mother in her household-chores. I fetch water and chop firewood. I water the vegetable plots and flower beds. I help her in milking the cow. I go to the boutique and fetch the home needs. I bathe my brother and wash his clothes too.

On every afternoon, I go to the pubic library and read the newspapers. On weekend afternoons, I go to the pubic play-ground with my village friends and play football which is my favourite game.

On the days of the term tests of the school, I burn a little midnight oil. But on all the other days, I go to bed early and rise with the crowning of the clock.

I know that we are very poor. But I feel neither shy nor afraid of being poor. Once our English teacher quoted from a book that there is a rare beauty and delight in poverty and it’s also an excellent breeding-ground that nurtures moral values.

I never badger my parents to by me unnecessary and expensive things. Every morning before I leave home to go to school, I kneel down in front of my poor, but energetic parents and worship them.