The Prince Who Ended Child Labor

The Prince Who Dreamed of Education for All

BY:Khan

Long ago, in a prosperous kingdom, there lived a wise and merciful king. He ruled with fairness, cared deeply for his people, and was loved by all. Beside him stood his queen—graceful, compassionate, and filled with a heart that always leaned toward kindness. Together, they shared a happy life, blessed with a son, Prince Adnan.

Prince Adnan was no ordinary child. Though only ten or eleven years old, he displayed unusual wisdom for his age. Unlike other children who spent their time chasing after toys and games, Adnan found joy in books. His tutors marveled at his sharp mind and endless curiosity. When lessons puzzled him, he never hesitated to ask questions. His eagerness to learn brought pride to his parents and admiration from his teachers.

The king, noticing his son’s passion, would send for rare storybooks and knowledge-filled volumes from distant lands. Adnan devoured these books with shining eyes, growing in both knowledge and empathy.

One afternoon, after his tutors had left, the young prince wandered into the royal gardens. Birds chirped from the trees, and colorful flowers swayed gently in the breeze. Yet, Adnan sat quietly, lost in thought. The king, having just finished his duties at court, noticed his son’s silence and approached him.

“My son,” the king said warmly, “why do you sit here so quiet and thoughtful?”

Startled, Adnan ran to embrace his father. “Father,” he whispered, “today my tutors spoke about the lives of the poor—how difficult their days are compared to ours. It made me sad. I am grateful that I was born into a palace where all my wishes are fulfilled. But why was I born here, and not in a poor man’s home like so many other children?”

The king was taken aback. He had no answer ready for such a question, and so he stayed silent. That evening, he shared Adnan’s words with the queen. She, however, was not worried. “Our son’s compassion is a blessing,” she said gently. “Most children of his age care only for play, yet he feels sorrow for the poor. This is a sign of a noble heart.”

Later that evening, the queen called for Adnan. They sat together by the window as the sun faded. Smiling mischievously, Adnan said, “I know Father has already told you what I asked.” The queen laughed but then grew serious. “Tell me, my son, what lies behind these thoughts of yours?”

The boy’s eyes softened. “Mother, whenever I climb the palace tower and look over the city, I see poor children. They work all day in the markets—carrying loads, polishing shoes, or sweeping streets. Some are shouted at, some are beaten, yet they continue working. At day’s end, they return home with only a few coins. I wonder—what if I had been born among them? Would I too have to spend my childhood in hard labor instead of in books?”

His mother’s eyes welled with tears. Adnan continued, his voice steady, “I want no child to suffer this way. Children should learn, play, and grow freely. Work can wait until they are grown. If Father can spend so much wealth rewarding courtiers for empty flattery, why can’t that wealth be used to build schools? Why can’t every child be educated, with the kingdom paying for it?”

At that moment, the king entered quietly. He had overheard every word. Moved by his son’s innocence and wisdom, he embraced him. “My son, today you have opened my eyes. I see now what I had neglected. No minister, no advisor ever reminded me of this. But you, at such a young age, have spoken the truth.”

The very next day, the king summoned his council. For weeks they debated and planned. Finally, a royal decree was announced across the land: From this day forward, no child shall work. Every child, boy or girl, must attend school. Schools—called maktabs—would be built in every town and village. The kingdom would cover all expenses, and parents who sent their children to study would even receive a small monthly allowance.

The news spread like wildfire. Parents who once sent their children to toil in the markets now lined up eagerly at the new schools. The streets, once filled with weary young workers, began to echo with the laughter of children carrying books instead of burdens.

One day, the queen stood with Adnan atop the palace tower. Together they looked over the city. The prince’s face lit up with joy. “Mother, look! Not a single child is working in the markets anymore. They are all in school!” His words filled her heart with pride.

Years passed, and the change bore fruit. When these children grew into adults, their education brought prosperity to every corner of the kingdom. Farmers learned better methods, merchants kept honest accounts, poets enriched culture, and scholars advanced knowledge. The kingdom thrived, admired even by neighboring lands.

Yet, few knew that this great transformation had begun with the questions of one thoughtful boy—Prince Adnan—who dreamed not just for himself, but for every child in the land.

For it is true: education is the light that makes human beings truly human.