Boy Gets Lost in Crowd and Sits in Wrong Train, Mom Sees Him Again Only 20 Years Later – Story of the Day

Kabir, a poor little Indian boy, gets lost in a bustling crowd and falls asleep on the wrong train, only to wake up 1,000 miles away from home. Life takes another fateful turn for Kabir when an American couple adopts him and brings him to New York.

It was a perfect, sunny day for adventure in a quaint little town nestled amidst rolling hills. Small-town brothers Jaggu and Kabir had their hearts set on visiting the city nearby to see the Taj Mahal for the first time, though they knew their mother wouldn’t allow them to go alone. So they decided to take things into their own hands and fulfill their secret desire.

With their backpacks on and imaginations fired up, 5-year-old Kabir and his older brother, Jaggu, sneaked out of their house and boarded a train to Agra while their mother was out at work in the fields.

The boys excitedly disembarked at their dream destination and were swept up in the pomp and show of the bustling bazaar, teeming with colorful street walls, delicious street food, and enthusiastic tourists…

As the brothers paraded the street market overlooking the timeless symbol of love, the Taj Mahal, Kabir’s eyes widened, and his mouth began to water at the sight of a stunning display of traditional sweets at a sweet stall.

“Wow! Look, Jaggu! Look at all those sweets! Can you buy me some? Me hungry,” he exclaimed, cupping his hands as he pressed his nose against the glass pane, enviously eyeing rich little children devouring the sweet treat.

Jaggu nodded, but his heart sank as he slipped his hand into his pocket, hoping to find enough money to buy the sweet his little brother wanted.

As he pulled out his soiled hand, he sighed with despair at seeing only a few meager coins clinking in his palm. Jaggu’s gaze shifted to his desperate little brother, who was staring at the dessert with big, brown eyes and a rumbling tummy.

“Don’t worry, Kabir. One day we open our own shop with same sweets here in Agra. Then we eat many, many…many sweets, till you hold your belly and drop, okay?” he promised with a chuckle, patting Kabir’s back.

“Really, Jaggu?! Will we have a shop with lots of sweets? And people will come to our shop from far away, no?” little Kabir’s face lit up with joy as he wandered away from the sweet stall.

“Jaggu, how big will our shop be? I want big. Very big. Big than this. With color lights and music,” he chirped in his broken accent.

But when Kabir turned around, he got the shock of his life—his older brother was missing, and little Kabir was lost in a sea of strangers in the new city, far from home…far from his mother…and far from the only little world he knew.

“Jaggu?” Kabir burst into tears as he frantically ran around, calling out to his older brother. He ran through the crowd as fast as his bare feet could carry him, his eyes darting around in fear. His heart started to race at the sight of tall strangers swarming around him.

“Jaggu? I scared…Jaggu? Where you go? Jaggu…Jaggu….” the poor little boy cried. But there was no sight of his older brother anywhere, and Kabir was getting tossed and kicked as he tried to break free from the bustling crowd.

“Where you go, Jaggu? Where you leave me and go?” Kabir’s heart pounded in his chest. Frightened and confused, the little boy bolted away from the bazaar and headed to the train station.

Upon arriving, Kabir quenched his thirst at a water cooler and sank onto a wooden bench. His knees curled up in utter disappointment as the weight of loneliness started pressing down on him like a heavy stone.

“Please come, Jaggu. I scared. I want to go home to Ammi,” Kabir cried and drifted off to sleep on his empty backpack. Suddenly, the sharp blast of the train’s horn pierced through his slumber, jolting him awake with a start.

Kabir’s eyes blinked open, blurry and terrified, as he looked around at the dim-lit station with hardly any people on the platform. His heart sank as he realized he’d been lost for hours and was stranded alone at night.

The little boy wiped his tears, and just as he rose to drink some water, he noticed a familiar train that looked like the one he’d taken that morning, heading from a different direction. Confused and desperate to get home, little Kabir boarded the train and fell asleep in the empty compartment.

The warm rays of the sun caressed Kabir awake several hours later. He wiped his drooling mouth, rose on the seat, and looked outside the window. It felt like a dream that soon turned into a nightmare when he realized he had come a long way on the wrong train.

“Jaggu…Ammi…Jaggu…Stop…Stop the train…I want to go home. Help,” he cried as he looked out the window and saw nothing but unfamiliar landscapes.

Kabir ran back and forth in the compartment like a lost little lamb, stretching his tiny hands out the window grills, screaming at passers-by for help. He kicked the door to open it, but his might was too little, and the iron door wouldn’t budge an inch.

Kabir’s stomach twisted into knots when the train finally screeched to a halt at its final destination in Goa several hours later, over 1,000 miles from his home.

The frightened little boy wandered around the platform, begging passers-by to help him find his way home. But nobody bothered, and they ignored him because they couldn’t understand his regional language and broken English accent.

Lost and hungry, Kabir strayed across the streets. His stomach growled at seeing people enjoying their meals at the roadside food stalls.

He dug into his backpack, hoping to find money to buy something nice to eat on that cold, rainy evening, and decided to steal food when he couldn’t find a penny.

“That little thief…Catch him…He stole a bun. Catch him!” a gang of men chased Kabir as he ran as fast as his tiny legs could carry him after stealing a bun from a bakery.

He spent the night at a church gate, and the next morning, he rummaged through dumpsters for scraps. But all he found was inedible rotten food that made him almost want to throw up. Hungry and almost on the verge of passing out, Kabir marched across the market and shoplifted an apple.

As the angry vendor and his workers kept searching for the ‘little thief,’ Kabir hid under a secluded bridge, cradling the stolen apple in his trembling hands as he took a bite. He lay there, shivering and alone, and as the rain beat down upon him, he cried to God to take him home to his mother and brother.

The next morning, it was a pleasant awakening for everyone in Goa except Kabir. Curled on his cardboard bed under the bridge, he reminisced about his life back home and giggled when the memory of his mother waking him with a glass of warm goat milk came rushing back to his mind.

Tears welled up in the rim of his eyes as he rose to his feet and set out to find food in the dumpster. The boy busily scavenged the public bin when suddenly, he felt a hard grip on his shoulder. Alarmed, Kabir turned around, dropping the dirty plastic bags he was holding.

“What are you doing here, little one?” a young man stood behind him. “Don’t eat that. Throw it away. Come with me.”

Kabir was glad to find at least somebody who understood he was hungry and desperately followed the man into a posh café nearby.

“I’m Harris,” the guy spoke as he smiled at the little boy in tattered clothes and unkempt hair devouring the donut and milkshake. “You want another donut?”

Kabir nodded with a smile, a creamy white patch around the rim of his mouth as he pushed the cup forward. Harris smiled, placing an order for another plate of donuts and milkshake for the boy, and watched the little one eat to his heart’s content.

“Shall we go?” he then asked.

Kabir was too terrified to answer, and before he could fathom where the stranger was taking him, he arrived at the local police station.

“I think he is lost, inspector,” Harris told the cops. “He told me he slept on the train. He doesn’t remember which train. Seems he and his brother went to see the Taj Mahal…But he doesn’t remember how he got there. Poor thing! We need to help him find his way back home.”

“Do you remember anything else where you came from?” the inspector asked Kabir. “Any other landmark?”

“No. My brother Jaggu and I go to see Taaj Ma-haal. We see sweet stall. I no find him…Jaggu go leave me. I scared. I sleep in train. Train don’t stop. It stop here.”

“Uhm…We’ll advertise a missing person’s advertisement on paper. His family should ideally call for him after seeing it. And we’ll also notify cops in Agra. We don’t know where exactly he came from. But we’ll try our best,” added the inspector.

“Ammi, no read…No write. Ammi no Inglees,” Kabir chimed in.

After the cops assured him about finding some lead, Harris took Kabir to a shelter for homeless children.

“Kabir, you’ll have to stay here until you find your home, okay?” said Harris as he led him into the shelter. “It’s a safe place for kids like you. You don’t have to live on the streets anymore.”

The little boy’s eyes widened with fear as he entered the dim-lit hall filled with noisy children and strangers. He wanted to turn around and run, but it was too late, and the door shut behind him with a heavy thud.

The pungent smell of sweat and dampness hung in the air as little Kabir marched into the hall, where he was shown his bed—an old bamboo mat with a dirty pillow and a tattered blanket in the corner.

He clutched his ragged backpack tightly, wishing to go home away from this menacing and noisy place. Towering older kids loomed over him like giants, and he was scared to move from his place. But what Kabir saw next chilled him to the bone.

A boy about his brother’s age sobbed uncontrollably as the caretaker scolded him for not finishing his meal. Kabir watched in horror as the caretaker dragged the boy by the arm, making him mop and sweep the premises as punishment.

Kabir gobbled his meal up to the last crumb, fearing a similar punishment, though he didn’t like the poor-tasting broth and dry flatbread.

As the night settled in and the other kids drifted off to sleep, a whisper reached Kabir’s ears. He turned around and saw a boy clutching his hand.

“This place very bad,” whispered the boy. “We are scared. Guards here are bad men. They’re mean…and they hit us.”

Kabir’s heart raced as the boy revealed more disturbing details about the shelter’s dark secrets. He realized he was trapped in a nightmare and desperately begged God to send someone his way to save him.

Several weeks passed, and one day, Kabir was told somebody had come to see him. His heart fluttered like butterflies as he happily ran behind the caretaker, assuming it was his mother. But he slowed down before freezing in his tracks at seeing an older lady seated at a table. She was Mrs. Jude, a social worker.

“Hey, there! Nice to see you,” she greeted him. “Please sit, little one.”

Kabir’s big brown eyes gleamed with disappointment as he climbed onto the chair and settled down, staring at her.

“You’re going home, finally!” she said, breaking his silence.

“Home? To Ammi…To Jaggu?!” Kabir excitedly exclaimed.

Mrs. Jude pursed her lips as she took a photo from her handbag.

“See this couple? They would like to take you home with them…to New York. What do you think?” she said as Kabir’s gaze glued to the picture of a white couple with kind, loving faces.

Mrs. Jude’s words sliced through his heart like a sharp knife. “Ammi not come for me?” he asked, his tone laced with disappointment.

“No, dear. It’s been two months. Nobody came for you from Agra. But trust me, sweetie. Mr. and Mrs. Hart are really nice people. They will love you and give you a good life. You deserve much better, dear. You deserve a loving home, and they will give you one. Okay?”

Kabir didn’t understand what those words meant and disappointedly nodded with his eyes downcast.

A few weeks later, Mr. and Mrs. Hart arrived at the shelter as Kabir appeared from behind the wall, looking nervous and shy.

“He’s beautiful!” whispered Mrs. Hart as her husband smiled, tears brimming in both their eyes at seeing a tiny boy marching toward them in a red shirt and cropped brown pants.

“Hey, there, little angel!” exclaimed Mrs. Hart as she knelt and ran her fingers through Kabir’s soft hair. “This is for you. You like it?”

For the first time in several days, a smile flickered across Kabir’s face when he reached out his tiny hands and took a fluffy brown teddy bear from Mrs. Hart.

“There is more, honey. In your home in New York,” Mr. Hart said, making Kabir smile even more. “So would you come home with us—with Daddy and Mommy—on an airplane?”

An immaculate smile beamed across Kabir’s face, and his big, brown eyes widened with hope and a spark of joy when Mr. Hart made a hand gesture, mimicking an airplane in flight.

As Kabir gazed out the airplane window a week later, the fluffy white clouds reminded him of the cotton candy Jaggu used to get him at the street fair back home. Marveled at how the sunlight filtered through the clouds, Kabir flew to New York with his foster parents.

“Ammi come for me in Amreeka. She come one day,” he thought as the airplane soared off into the skies.

Twenty years passed, and Kabir grew up as Mr. and Mrs. Hart’s beloved son with a successful career and a life full of luxuries money could buy. With time, he overcame his past, barely remembering just fragments of it.

Kabir lost hope of finding his biological family until one day, when he was at a street fair with his parents.

Kabir was walking through the bustling streets, basking in the joy of the colorful festival. Something suddenly caught his eye as they weaved their way through the crowds.

It was an Indian food stand, and on display were the sweets that he wanted to eat at the fair in Agra all those years ago. Kabir couldn’t believe his eyes. He stopped dead in his tracks and just stared at the delicacies.

“Excuse me, sir,” Kabir approached the seller. “What is the name of this sweet? Is it an Indian delicacy?”

The seller smiled warmly and said, “Yes, sir! These are a delicacy from the city of Agra. They’re called the Angoori Petha or white pumpkin candy. We got it shipped exclusively from a sweet stall there.”

Kabir’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Did you say Agra? Can you give me the address of that sweet stall you told me?” he gasped, remembering the confectionery from years ago.

“Yes, sir! Here you go…Agra is famous for the Taj Mahal. Have you been there? It’s a beautiful white marble mausoleum. A symbol of true love.”

“The Taj Mahal!! Oh, yes! I’ve heard about it…I’ve even been there when I was little, but I remember only bits and pieces…”

His mother, Mrs. Hart, overheard their conversation and quickly interrupted.

“Oh, Kabir, honey, let’s not get carried away by this. We have so much to do and see here! We should keep moving.”

“Mom, you won’t believe this!” Kabir exclaimed as he showed Mrs. Hart pictures of the Taj Mahal on his phone. “This is where I was! I was lost in Agra…All I could remember all these years was being here when I last saw my brother. I’m getting this strange feeling that my home is not very far from here…I can now find my way back home.”

But Mrs. Hart was not at all excited and nervously whispered, “There are a lot of such sweets. And it’s not known where they come from. You’re overthinking, honey. Let’s just get outta here.”

“Kabir, honey, Dad’s so thrilled about your new job. Are you finished packing yet? Your tickets to Boston are confirmed,” Mrs. Hart chirped as she burst into Kabir’s room that evening. The crimson drained from her face when she saw Kabir’s eyes fixated on the laptop screen as he scrolled through Google Earth, zooming through Agra.

“Kabir, honey, what are you doing?” she disappointedly asked.

“Hey, Mom! I’m trying to find the town near Agra where I belong.”

“Why do you need to know that now?” his mother asked, her voice tinged with agitation.

“Coz I need to find my real mother…and brother, Mom,” Kabir blurted out excitedly.

Mrs. Hart’s face fell, and a look of hurt and disappointment gushed into her eyes. “Why do you need to find them?”

“Mom, she’s my mother. They’re my family.”

“Then who am I? Do you remember the circumstances in which you grew up, Kabir? Are you seriously considering leaving us just because of some goddamn sweets you saw on the street? I’m your mother…The one who raised you all these years. Do you hear me? I’m your MOTHER…and we are your PARENTS,” she said, her voice seething with anger.

Kabir looked up at her, his face twisted with frustration. “I know, Mom. You’re my mother. But that doesn’t change the fact I have a biological mother and a family out there…thousands of miles away…waiting with hopes that I would come back one day. I want to see them. Please, Mom, don’t try to stop me.”

Mrs. Hart sighed a deep breath, trying hard to swallow her tears. “Kabir, please remember that I love you just as much as any biological mother could. There’s no need for you to chase your past to find happiness. You have a family right here who loves you to the core.”

Kabir’s face hung in despair, and with eyes downcast, he realized his mother was right. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. But deep down, his desire to find his past still burned inside him.

After spending a sleepless night haunted by thoughts, Kabir checked Google Earth once again. With fragmented memories of his hometown, he searched with a keen eye, and after hours of arduous search, he found his way home on the map.

“This is it! This is where Jaggu and I used to go fishing!” he exclaimed, bursting into silent tears and torn between his desire to find his past and the love of his adoptive family.

“Good morning, honey! Kabir, Dad’s waiting for you in the car,” Mrs. Hart entered Kabir’s room the following morning and froze in disbelief. He was not there in his room, and on the bed lay a note with the words: Going in search of a home away from home.

The words hurt Mrs. Hart like seizures, and she almost passed out from shock.

Kabir arrived at Agra after an exhausting flight and train journey, and as he stood before the Taj Mahal, his memories came flooding back.

He marched to the sweet stall and smiled, tears welling in his eyes at seeing the display of desserts. He wandered across the streets to the railway station and sat on the bench he’d slept on the night he was lost.

As Kabir ran his hands on the wooden bench, the train horn shattered the stillness around him. Kabir looked up. It was the same train that carried him a thousand miles away from his home to Goa.

Kabir sighed a deep breath, and moments later, he boarded another train heading to his hometown. With each fleeting minute, Kabir knew he was approaching his family, and his heart throbbed in his chest.

With tears waiting to spill from the rim of his eyes, Kabir arrived at his village—a rural settlement where people lived in mud houses and farmed for a living.

In his jeans, T-shirt, backpack, exquisite perfume, and American accent, Kabir looked and smelled rich. People and kids were drawn to him as he marched across the alley that twisted into turns with mud huts lined on either side.

Kabir recalled the way home, and with each step he took, he started tearing up and could feel his heart becoming heavier. As Kabir approached his old house, several memories flooded his mind. He could hear Jaggu’s and his laughter filling the musky air. He could hear his Mom’s voice singing them to sleep.

Kabir couldn’t help but cry when he finally found his way back home after 20 long years. With hopes fluttering in his heart, he stepped inside his house and was disappointed at seeing a goat barn instead.

“Wh—Where’s my mother? My brother, Jaggu? Can someone please tell me where my family is? I’m Kabir, Noor’s son,” he asked the locals, his voice brimming with desperation.

Everyone was puzzled until one man burst through the crowd and gasped, “What did you say your name was?”

“Kabir. And this is my house. Where’s everybody? Where’s my mother? And brother Jaggu? I…I was lost twenty years ago…I’ve come to see my family,” Kabir replied as the man’s face turned pale.

“Wait over here. I’ll be right back,” said the man.

Kabir waited there, anxiously looking around, and ten minutes later, he saw the man approaching him with some women behind him. And when Kabir saw one woman’s face, he dropped to his knees and burst into tears.

The world around him started to spin. Everything seemed to turn dark except for the silhouette of that woman. Kabir’s heart pounded wildly, and he thought it would explode. He sighed a deep breath and mustered the courage as he rose and approached her.

“Ammi!” he cried, cupping his mother’s wrinkled face. “It’s me, Ammi. Your son, Kabir!”

“Kabir!” was all Noor whispered. She cried her eyes out and almost fainted as she hugged her son and kissed him all over his forehead.

“Ammi, I’m so sorry. I looked for you everywhere. But I couldn’t find you. I went to New York. You know…New York? In America? I live there with my foster parents.”

Noor nodded in tears, although she couldn’t understand her son’s American accent.

“Where’s Jaggu? Ammi, where’s Jaggu? Jaggu…yeah…where’s he?” Kabir asked, smiling and crying at the same time. But everyone’s head hung in despair.

“Your brother was found dead on the train tracks the day you went missing,” said the local mailman. “Everybody thought you died, too. But your mother kept looking for you everywhere. She couldn’t find you, but she never lost hope you would come one day. She sold the house to settle some debt and moved to the shelter.”

Kabir hugged his mother and cried for a long time. “I missed you so much, Ammi. I really did,” he kept whispering as he ruffled her grey hair.

Later that evening, Kabir sat with his mother under the banyan tree outside their old home and rang his foster mother.

“Mom, I…I’m so sorry for leaving like that. I want to tell you something…I found her…I found my Ammi,” he spoke and heard Mrs. Hart’s heavy breath and sobs on the other end of the line.

“Don’t cry, Mom. Please, don’t cry,” Kabir said. “I’m gonna stay here for a while…until I can build a small house for my Ammi. I’ll be in New York very soon…I promise. You’ll always be my Mom, and nothing can ever change that. I love you, Mom, and I promise I’ll be there for you very soon.”

“I love you too, sweetie. We’ll be waiting for you,” Mrs. Hart whispered through her sobs.

What can we learn from this story?

• The value of family and love cannot be measured by money. Kabir was determined to find his biological family despite living a rich life in New York with his foster parents.
• Family is not about matching DNA but about hearts attached to a string called true, undivided love. Lost and detached from his birth family for 20 years, Kabir ultimately reunited with his biological family because he still loved them. However, he decided to return to his foster family in New York because he loved his mother and foster parents equally.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

A single mom’s strained relationship with her teen daughter takes a fateful turn when she’s informed the girl isn’t her biological child. Click here to read the full story.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.

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