Station Announcement:
"Passengers seeking truth: archives do not lie, but they seldom soften."
The Nirmala Records Office in Civil Lines looked nothing like the place that held thousands of missing stories.
Whitewashed walls.Faded signboard.A banyan tree growing over the entrance like a tired guardian.A courtyard filled with dusty bicycles.
Inside, fans groaned overhead.Shelves sagged under the weight of paper files — brown folders, curled pages, handwritten notes fading with time.
A scent of ink, dust, and forgotten lives hung thick in the air.
Kannan tightened his grip on the umbrella and sketchbook.
Arun walked beside him, quiet but vigilant.
Nish approached the reception desk, where an elderly woman with spectacles hanging from a chain looked up.
"Yes?" she asked.
Nish cleared his throat.
"We're searching for someone. A boy registered here years ago. His name—"
The woman lifted a hand.
"Name first. Age. Which ward. Case number if you have it."
Sara murmured to Nish,"She's the gatekeeper. Be respectful."
Nish nodded.
"Name: Akshay Ninan," he said."Age: around twelve or thirteen in 2014. Entered through a facility called House of Threads."
The woman froze.
"House of Threads?" she repeated.
Arun stiffened.
Kannan's breath quickened.
The woman stood up — slowly, deliberately.
"Follow me."
1. The Room of Forgotten Files
She led them to a long corridor filled with metal cabinets.
Dust floated in beams of sunlight like tiny ghosts.
The woman stopped at a rusted cabinet labeled:
HT-CHILD PROTECTION CASES / 2014–2017
Her hands shook slightly as she opened it.
"Many of these children were relocated," she said quietly."Hard to trace. Harder to confirm."
She thumbed through rows of folders.
Kannan's heart pounded so loudly he thought the whole room could hear it.
Then—
She stopped.
She pulled out a thin file.
On the cover:
CASE #47B / CHILD: AKSHAY N. / STATUS: TRANSFERRED
Kannan's legs nearly buckled.
Sara grabbed his arm.
Arun moved closer.
Nish whispered, "We found him… we actually found his file…"
The woman opened it.
Inside were several pages — yellowed, but intact.
2. The File Speaks
The woman read aloud:
"Date of Intake: 27 July 2014."
Kannan pressed a hand to his chest.
"That's… two weeks after he left Mumbai…"
She continued:
"Found near Red Light Zone by outreach worker. Condition: malnourished, exhausted, fever relapse. Boy cooperative but withdrawn. Repeatedly asking for his father."
Sara exhaled shakily.
Ananya wiped a tear.
Arun whispered:
"He kept asking… everywhere he went…"
The woman turned the page.
"Behavior:Quiet.Sketches frequently.Avoids crowds.Sleeps near windows.No aggressive tendencies.Strong attachment to a missing parent."
Ravi murmured, "Yes… that was him."
Then the woman paused.
Her brows furrowed.
"There's an attachment," she said.
Nish leaned forward.
"Can we see it?"
She pulled out a folded sheet.
A drawing.
A charcoal sketch of a father holding a child's hand.
And beneath it:
"Appa, I will keep walking."
Kannan broke — silently, violently.
The woman's eyes softened.
She turned to the next page.
And her expression changed.
Worried.
She whispered:
"Oh…"
Arun's blood ran cold.
Sara tensed.
"What is it?" Nish asked.
The woman read aloud:
"Child transferred due to capacity overflow. Destination: Uttarakhand Temporary Shelter for Displaced Minors."
Arun blinked.
"Uttarakhand…?"
Rohit murmured, "That's far north…"
The woman continued:
"Transfer Date: 14 August 2014."
Kannan whispered:
"My birthday…He was transferred on my birthday…"
His voice shattered.
The woman hesitated.
"There is more," she said.
Kannan's hands shook uncontrollably.
Sara whispered, "Whatever comes now, we face together."
The woman read the final line of the page.
"Child insisted father would come. Repeated attempts to leave facility. Placed under observation.Final note: 'Boy disappeared during monsoon blackout. Searched for 48 hours. Not found.'"
Silence hit like a blow.
A deep, suffocating silence.
Kannan gripped the file as if trying to stop time.
Arun's eyes filled instantly.
Basil sobbed against Arjun's shoulder.
Leena covered her mouth.
Ananya shook her head slowly.
Nish whispered:
"No… no… that can't be the end…"
The woman closed the file slowly, respectfully.
"That is the last official record."
Kannan's voice finally broke, hoarse and shattered:
"Is my son… dead?"
The woman swallowed.
"We do not know," she said gently."Many children vanished during the monsoon disaster that year. Some were found later in other states. Some… never."
Sara spoke before Kannan collapsed completely.
"We are not stopping here," she said, her voice fierce."This file does not say he is gone.It says he is missing."
Ramanlal's voice echoed in Arun's memory:
"Archives do not lie, but they seldom soften."
Nish leaned forward.
"Is there any additional document? Case notes? Witness accounts?"
The woman hesitated.
Then reached into the folder again.
"There is… one more page."
Everyone held their breath.
She unfolded it slowly.
Very slowly.
It was a transfer log.
Handwritten, messy.
Nish read it aloud:
"Boy spoke to man in uniform before blackout.Said man promised to take him 'closer'.No record of authorized personnel.Unknown where boy went."
Sara's eyes widened.
Arun whispered:
"A man… again… the same man from Mumbai?"
Arjun nodded grimly.
"That is highly possible."
Kannan whispered, barely audible:
"He followed him…Even in Uttarakhand…"
Nish exhaled sharply.
"This means he did not vanish alone.Someone took him."
Ravi whispered:
"A child doesn't just disappear. Someone shows them a road."
The woman folded the file quietly.
"You are the first to ask for this case in many years," she said gently.
Kannan whispered:
"We're not giving up."
The woman nodded.
"I hope you find him," she said."Some stories deserve a second ending."
3. The Next Direction
As they stepped outside, Delhi's sunlight felt too bright, too harsh.
Kannan leaned against the banyan tree, clutching the file, the umbrella, the sketchbook — the last traces of a boy who should never have been lost.
Arun sat beside him.
"Kannan-ettan," he whispered, "listen to me."
Kannan looked up, broken but listening.
"This file does not say he died," Arun said firmly."It only says he left.And someone took him."
Sara added:
"And boys who are taken… can be found."
Arjun nodded slowly.
"Uttarakhand," he said. "The trail moves to the mountains now."
Rohit exhaled heavily.
"We follow him."
Nish closed his notebook.
"This is no longer a search," he said quietly."This is a rescue."
Kannan pressed his forehead to the sketchbook and whispered:
"Akshay…My son…Wherever you went…I will follow."