A boy disappeared during a school field trip in 2000… and the truth was revealed twenty-six years later…

On March 27, 2000, eighth-grade students from Saraswati Vidya Niketan School in New Delhi planned a field trip to the Aravalli Mountains. It was a science and nature study trip, which included field trips and life skills training.

Upon arrival, the atmosphere was normal, with no indication that the day would have any adverse impact on the school or the students’ lives.

Among the students was Aarav Sharma, a calm, responsible, and academically intelligent 15-year-old boy. He always kept a record of all his lessons in a red-dot diary and never forgot to bring it home.

The trip began without incident. Teachers divided the students into two groups to explore the hills along different routes, and then reconvene at the main location. Aarav was in a group led by a young teacher, Miss Reena, who had been working at the school for just over a year.

On the way, near a small lake and some slippery rocks, Miss Reena asked the students to stop and gather. Then she realized one student was missing.

“Has anyone seen Aarav?” she asked, trying to remain calm.

There was no response. Some people thought he might have wandered off somewhere nearby, others thought he was writing about a plant or wildflower in his diary. All this happened in less than fifteen minutes, but Reena’s heart was pounding.

Immediately afterward, Miss Reena called the school administration and contacted the rescue team and police, hoping for help.

About an hour later, the search began. Voices echoed through the hills. Teachers, rescue teams, police, sniffer dogs, and volunteers scattered in different directions, while classmates panicked, were distraught, and wept. The search continued for hours, but no trace was found—no bag, no red-dotted diary, no fresh footprints on the lake shore. It was as if the earth had swallowed Aarav.

Over the next few days, helicopters hovered over the Aravalli Range, and search teams climbed the mountains, checking every path and crevice. Aarav Sharma’s parents appeared on television, pleading for any information about their son. Media pressure mounted, and the police began investigating every possibility: accident, running away from home, kidnapping. But none of the theories seemed plausible. There was no reason for Aarav to run away, no sign of mental distress. The area was dangerous, yet not close enough to immediately cause an accident. And there was no evidence of kidnapping.

A week later, Aarav Sharma’s name became the talk of New Delhi. Rumors spread—some absurd, some sensational. But over time, the case faded into obscurity. New news, other social upheavals, pushed the disappearance into obscurity. The case was placed in the “unsolved” category.

But twenty-six years later, in 2026, a sudden phone call brought everything back to life.

The truth is finally about to come out…

That morning in 2026, when the phone rang, no one imagined that a name suppressed twenty-six years ago would resonate in the air. Inspector Kabir Malhotra, on duty at the New Delhi Police Control Room, picked up the receiver. The voice on the other side trembled—”I… I know Aarav Sharma. And… and I think it’s time to tell the truth.”

“Who are you speaking to?” Kabir asked immediately.
“The name doesn’t matter,” the voice said. “What matters is that Aarav is alive… and that he never left that red-dotted diary.”

Kabir’s chair creaked. He started the recording. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” the voice took a deep breath, “and I know that telling the truth will turn many lives upside down.”

Three hours later, an old man—white beard, stooped back—stood outside the police station. Name: Shivnath Rawat. Occupation: former forest guide in the Aravalli Range. As he came in, he said, “I’m not afraid of jail. I’m afraid the truth might die with me.”

Kabir offered him water. “Whatever you know, tell me in detail.”

Shivnath’s eyes filled with tears. “That day… March 27, 2000… I was there too. Near the lake.”

A flashback came flooding back into the room. Shivnath said that he saw a boy alone that afternoon—the same red-dot diary in his hand. “He was writing,” he said, “very carefully. Then I saw two adults. They looked like teachers, but their conversation was… strange.”
“Who?” Kabir interrupted.
“One was a woman—Miss Reena—and the other… wasn’t the school driver, it was someone from outside. They called the boy over.”

Kabir searched the file. Miss Reena’s name—Reena Chaudhary—was still alive, but twenty years ago she had suddenly quit her job and moved to the city.
“What happened then?”
Shivnath’s voice broke. “The boy said, ‘Madam, why are you calling me out from the rest of the group?’ And the man said, ‘Show us what’s in your diary.’ The boy stepped back. Then… there was a scuffle. The rocks near the lake were slippery.”

“Did he fall?”
“No,” Shivnath shook his head. “He didn’t fall. He was forcibly taken towards the forest.”

Kabir’s forehead sweated. “Why didn’t you tell the police then?”
“If I had told them, they would have found my dead body,” Shivnath said. “That man saw me. He came outside my hut at night and said, ‘If you want to live, forget it.’”

The investigation reopened. The media went crazy. Kabir’s team tracked down Reena Chaudhary—she was now living in an ashram near Dehradun. When she was taken into custody, she initially denied anything.

“I didn’t do anything,” she said flatly.

“What color was Aarav’s diary?” Kabir suddenly asked.

Reena’s lips trembled. “Red… on it… a dot.”

The room fell silent.

The interrogation went on for a long time. Finally, breaking down, she admitted, “I made a mistake. A big one.”

She explained that a major scam was going on at the school at the time—fund misappropriation. Aarav’s diary didn’t just contain notes about plants; she had accidentally written down some receipts and snippets of conversations she’d overheard on the bus. “That kid used to write everything,” Reena said, sobbing.

“And you kidnapped him?”

“I didn’t want to,” she said, “but that man—Vikram—said that if the diary got out, it would all be over.”

“Who is Vikram?”
“A relative of the school trust,” Reena whispered. “Very powerful.”

The biggest shock came when the police discovered that Aarav wasn’t dead. He was hidden in an old ashram in the forest, where a sadhu—Mahendra—cared for him. Vikram’s plan was to abandon the child in a distant city after some time, to erase the evidence. But the sadhu intervened.
“There was fear in that child’s eyes,” Mahendra said later. “I didn’t let him go.”

Aarav’s name was changed. He lived with the sadhu for years, educated, and grew up. He was told that the outside world was dangerous for him. But the diary… he kept it.
“I couldn’t forget,” Aarav said to Kabir upon their first meeting. His voice was calm, but there was a storm in his eyes. “I used to write every night—truly.”

When the DNA test confirmed that he was Aarav Sharma, his parents—now old—went to the police station in tears. His mother touched his face, as if afraid it might be a dream.
“My child…”
Aarav said softly, “Mom… I’m home.”

The case went to court. Vikram was arrested. The fund scam was exposed. The school trust was dissolved. Reena was punished, but the court also recognized that by telling the truth, she had given a child back his life.

The most emotional moment came when Aarav presented his diary in court.
“This isn’t just my story,” he said, “it’s proof that truth comes, even if late.”

Finally, Aarav completed his studies and began working in environmental science—for the very nature where he was lost. He donated the same red-dotted diary to a museum so that people would remember.
His mother asked him, “Have you forgiven us?”
He smiled and said, “Not sorry, Mom. Understand.”

Twenty-six years later, a child returned. And the world learned—truth can be suppressed, not erased. Silence from fear prolongs crime, and even a small diary can expose big lies.