Lost and found: Tales of child rescue from India's railway stations

Badal was only six when he was found at the bustling New Delhi railway station in the summer of 2009. Quiet and curious, he had wandered off a bit too far, but curiosity slowly turned into fear. All he could see were tall figures running around, not a single soul caring to look down. Moments later, someone held his little hands and took him to a shelter home. The caretakers gave him food and clothes and named him after the wandering clouds he would often stare at. They gently listed every city they could think of, watching the flicker in Badal’s expressions.

 

“Varanasi?” No response. “Lucknow?” Nothing.

 

This coaxing went on for weeks before the lady who cooked food there, who had a soft spot for children, came close and whispered, “Patna?” Badal froze. His eyes welled up and he gave tiny trembling nods. Within days, he was transferred to a shelter home in Patna. He grew up at Apna Ghar, a shelter home close to Patna Junction, where several tiny hands held each other, making it their home. Badal grew up inside those walls, helping children tie their shoelaces, giving the warmth he himself craved for. He learnt to sleep with unanswered questions―how did he get lost? Who were his parents? He had faint memories of his mother, humming a lullaby, and the tight grip he had on her little finger when she took him to buy candies. “I don’t remember how I got lost. All my memories are of the shelter home I grew up in,” he says.

 

When Badal turned 18, he was enrolled in future planning sessions like other children at the home. That was when he was offered a job. One evening, during a gathering of different shelter homes, Badal met Soni Kumari. They learnt about each other’s struggles, took part in group tasks and made time for quick chats between tea breaks. Soni Kumari was also little when she was found at Patna Junction and later taken to Nishan shelter home. Like Badal, she, too, knew little about her past. “I just have Badal in my life today,” she says. “This is all the family I have.”

 

In 2024, 14,756 children were rescued from railway stations across the country―a threefold increase compared with 2020. The numbers began to surge after the Covid-19 pandemic, says Manoj Yadava, director general of the Railway Protection Force. “We usually see a spike during school holiday seasons. But post-Covid, things took a drastic turn. Many families lost their jobs and began sending children to cities for work. That opened a huge door for exploitation and trafficking.”

 

By 2022, the number of children rescued from railway stations had reached 17,756, of whom 5,358 were girls. Over the past seven years, more than 84,000 children have been rescued from railway stations across the country.

 

“The reasons are complex,” says Yadava. “Influence of social media in today’s fast-paced world has children searching for avenues without realising the dangers.” Poverty remains a major factor. “Many children come from extremely disadvantaged backgrounds; some leave in search of work, some in search of food, and others in search of freedom or escape from abuse.”

 

Stations such as New Delhi and Howrah witness maximum cases simply because of the massive footfall. In cities like Mumbai, it’s mostly the railway stations near the slums. Patna Junction is a transit hotspot.

 

Crucially, RPF figures represent only the children who were rescued. What about those who vanished without a trace? The ones trafficked, exploited or still missing? Their numbers are likely just as large, if not larger.

 

“Most children, especially the ones lost at a very young age, rarely know their past,” says Yadava. “Despite all our efforts, some of them end up completely abandoning their past lives, as if it never existed.”

 

Like Badal.

 

Delhi has changed a lot since Badal was found that day in 2009. There are a lot more people. The streets are crammed like never before. Roopesh Kumar does not remember how he was squeezed into a small bag-making factory, where the choking haze of molten plastic and sour sweat hung heavy as he was forced to work long hours. “The owners used to send Rs9,000 to my father,” he recalls. “But I never got a chance to speak to my parents.” The shadowy underworld of child labour continues to thrive in cities like Delhi, Mumbai and Bengaluru, where children are working in clothing and toy factories looking for an escape one day. “Child labour is a jackpot for these factory owners,” says S.A. Patel, an RPF inspector. “The children are paid a fraction of what they would pay an adult for working long hours.”

 

Patel says child traffickers look for lost children and lure them with promises of food, shelter and money. The growing role of social media in influencing children to look for greener pastures cannot be discounted. What makes the risky attempts to leave their homes easier is the access to information, the lure of the outside world and ability to connect to the outside world faster. But what hurts more is when parents themselves give up their children for money, says Patel.

 

One morning in March 2025, Roopesh decided to run away. He looked out of the dusty window to see the city erupting in colours. Holi isn’t just a festival in Delhi. For a few hours, even the cruellest corners of the city let their guard down. “Today is the day,” he thought to himself. He packed everything in a small bag and made his way to the streets where buses were plying to destinations he had neither heard nor seen. “I need to go to the railway station,” he thought.

 

It was dark by the time he reached the railway station. He tried to memorise that day’s train chart. His train to Patna was three hours away. Like a curled up millipede, he lay down using his bag as a pillow. The darkness hugged him as he dozed off. He woke up with a jolt, the earth beneath him thundered when his train came to a halt beside him. He scanned the coaches and did not worry about getting a ticket. Getting back home was all he cared about. Roopesh was spotted at Patna Junction by RPF officers, who helped him with food and ensured he was in safe hands. Until they found his home, he was sent to Apna Ghar under Badal’s care.

 

“RPF officers are trained to handle vulnerable children with care, in accordance with the law, of course,” says Yadava. “They are also taught to approach children in a friendly, non-threatening way.” At key railway stations, the RPF works closely with Child Help Desks (CHDs) to provide 24/7 support. “In the past few years, certain railway stations have emerged as ‘high-risk-zones’ because of heavy footfall, them being near slum areas or for their role as transit hubs,” says Yadava.

 

THE WEEK visited Patna Junction, known to have at least one case of a lost and found child every day. “It is one station from where it is very easy to travel to any major city in the country,” says Patel.

 

THE WEEK accompanied the RPF and CHD on their routine patrols. It was April 8. Patna Junction is not as busy as the New Delhi railway station, but it gets quite crowded at times. Amid the endless crowd on platform two, there sat a small silhouette all alone.

 

The RPF officers are trained to notice what other eyes might miss. A girl not older than 16 sat quietly clutching her bag. The CHD team inquired where she was going but she gave no clear answers. She said she was going home as her coaching class was over. She was brought to the CHD, a bright green room in the middle of platform one, with photos and posters all over. The officers contacted the coaching class teacher, who said she had not seen the child in two months. Was she a runaway? This question is now left for the Child Welfare Committee to answer. The CWC is an institution under the Juvenile Justice Act that handles complaints related to lost and abandoned children.

 

The RPF works closely with the CHDs at major stations. “We patrol regularly,” says Patel. “Our eyes are always on the lookout for children wandering alone or with suspicious adults.” When a child is brought to the CHD, the first step is counselling. The trained CHD staff try to understand the child’s story. If the child remembers a phone number of a parent or a relative, they are contacted right away.

 

After the initial steps, the RPF and the CHD escort the child to the CWC, which acts as a children’s court. “The child is officially produced before the chairman, and all the records are documented.”

 

While the priority is to always reunite a child with family, that isn’t always possible. “Sometimes parents refuse to take the child back. And sometimes the child doesn’t want to return home,” says Patel. In such cases, the CWC steps in and decides to place the child in a shelter home.

 

The RPF now rescues around 15,000 children each year and is increasingly turning to technology and inter-agency collaboration to improve outcomes. For the Badals of the world, there seems to be light at the end of the tunnel―the RPF, once tasked solely with guarding railway property has, over the years, expanded its role to protecting their most vulnerable passengers: children.

The Week