Vivek was a bright boy with a twinkle in his eyes and a mischievous streak in his smile. He always topped the class, answered every question, and made his teachers proud.
But behind all that brilliance was a little boy who felt... invisible.
Vivek’s parents were always busy. They worked long hours, brought their office stress home, and rarely had time for conversations. They weren’t unkind—they just weren’t present.
Most days, Vivek would eat dinner alone or quietly sit in a corner while his parents typed away on their laptops or took endless phone calls.
At home, conversations were short. “Eat your food.” “Go study.” “Don’t disturb us now.” Vivek craved their love but didn’t know how to ask for it.
The only person who truly saw him was his grandmother. Her soft hands, warm hugs, and quiet stories were his comfort. She made him feel safe. But even she couldn’t protect him from what happened next.
One day, while zooming around the living room pretending to be a superhero, Vivek accidentally knocked over a beautiful vase. Crash!
His parents came running.
“Vivek! Can’t you sit still for even a minute?!”
Before he could explain, he was already being yelled at.
“Go to your room! No more games!”
That moment stayed with him.
Vivek went, eyes brimming with tears. That night, he made a silent promise: Next time, I won’t take the blame.
And when “next time” came—a spilled bowl of snacks—he blurted, “Muffin did it!” Their sleepy dog lifted his head in confusion.
To Vivek’s surprise, his parents just sighed. “That dog again…”
No yelling. No punishment. Just... silence.
Vivek blinked. Wait… they believed me?
And that moment changed everything.
---
From the very next day, school became his stage.
He walked into school with a new kind of confidence. As he entered the classroom, he looked around like a detective—but not the kind that solved problems… the kind that caused them.
He wasn't just answering questions anymore. He was orchestrating scenes.
When someone’s eraser went missing?
“Oh! I saw Rishi taking it during recess,” he’d whisper to the teacher.
If the classroom board had doodles on it?
“I think Priya was near it last.”
He did it with such innocence in his eyes, such charm in his voice, that no one ever suspected him.
And slowly, he got bolder.
He'd walk into class, scan the room, and think, Whose turn is it today?
Sometimes, he would even prank someone just for fun—stick a paper fish on their back, spill water near their bag, or place a funny drawing in someone’s notebook—and then act shocked when the teacher found it.
“Oh no, miss! That’s terrible. Maybe Sanjay did it?”
His lies weren’t nervous anymore. They were smooth. Practiced. And almost playful.
He became the perfect little actor—sincere voice, straight face, innocent eyes. The teachers admired him.
“He’s such a well-behaved boy,” they said.
“The others should learn from him.”
And that only made Vivek smile wider.
What they didn’t know was—he was fooling everyone.
He didn’t just lie occasionally. He was active, every single day at school, planting stories, shifting blame, and watching others get scolded while he walked away like a hero.
Even when his friends protested—“But I didn’t do it!”—no one believed them.
Because Vivek always looked like the kid who could do no wrong.
Little did he know, this game wouldn’t last forever…
Not even his best friends were spared.
“He blamed me again,” whispered Meena after class, her eyes filled with hurt.
“Same here,” sighed Arjun. “And I thought we were his closest friends.”
They had always shared tiffin boxes, helped him with homework, waited for him during lunch breaks. And now, he was turning on them, just for fun.
What hurt most was not the teacher’s scolding—but the fact that their friend didn’t even feel sorry.
“He laughs, Meena. He laughs after we get scolded.”
“He doesn’t even care…”
Day by day, that pain turned into frustration. The joy of friendship was being replaced by doubt and distance. And Vivek? He didn’t notice. Or maybe, he didn’t want to.
But soon… he would.
---
Enough is Enough
At first, they gave him the benefit of the doubt.
“Maybe he didn’t mean it,” Meena had said.
“Yeah, maybe it was just a joke,” Arjun added.
But it kept happening. Every prank. Every blame. Every time someone got into trouble, Vivek walked away untouched.
“He blamed me again today,” Meena muttered one afternoon. “He looked right at the teacher and said I did it. I wasn’t even near the board.”
“I’ve shared my lunch with him, helped him with homework… and this is how he treats us?” Arjun said, frustrated.
One by one, the rest of the class nodded. Some were angry. Others just felt tired.
That’s when someone said, “That’s it. We’ve had enough.”
The group huddled together after class. No yelling. No shouting. Just quiet determination.
“We have to stop this,” said Meena.
“But how?” asked another classmate. “He’s always believed.”
“We’ll tell the truth. All of us. Together.”
And so, they marched to the staff room and politely asked to speak with Ms. Sharma.
She looked up from her papers. “Yes, children? Everything okay?”
Meena took a deep breath. “Ma’am… we need to talk. It’s about Vivek.”
---
The Plan
She was surprised. “Vivek? Are you sure?”
“We wouldn’t all lie, ma’am. Even his closest friends are tired. He keeps blaming everyone else, and we’re always the ones getting scolded.”
Ms. Sharma thought deeply. “Alright,” she said, “I’ll handle it.”
The next day, Vivek was absent. Ms. Sharma gathered the class.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered with a wink, “we give Vivek a taste of his own medicine. You’ll play harmless pranks—but instead of taking the blame, you’ll all point fingers. Just like he does.”
The students blinked.
“You want us to lie?”
“No,” she said gently. “I want Vivek to see what it feels like.”
“Only for a day,” she said gently. “Sometimes, the only way to see the truth… is through a mirror.”
When Vivek returned the next day, the classroom was in chaos. Pencils were missing. Paper balls flew. Someone had drawn a silly face on the board. And everyone was pointing fingers.
“He did it!”
“No, she did!”
“Not me, ma’am, I saw him do it!”
Ms. Sharma scolded the whole class, just as she used to when they got blamed unfairly. And this time, Vivek was just a spectator.
He stood frozen. His heart pounded. His mind buzzed.
What’s going on? They’re all lying. Why?
For the first time, the very tricks he had used were being turned on him. It wasn’t fun anymore. It felt awful. Confusing. Heavy.
He couldn’t concentrate in class. His chest felt tight. Is this how they felt… all those times? Even my best friends?
Each time someone lied in front of him, something in him twisted. He wanted to yell, “Tell the truth!” But he couldn’t. Not when he’d done the exact same thing.
That night, he couldn’t sleep. His pillow felt heavy with guilt.
--
The Apology
A few days later, Ms. Sharma called for a class meeting.
“If anyone wants to thank someone or apologize,” she said, “this is your moment.”
Vivek sat quietly as a few students shared their words. Then, with trembling hands, he stood up.
“I… I want to say sorry. To everyone. I’ve lied. A lot. I made mistakes. I blamed you all, even my best friends. And… I feel really bad. At the time, I thought it was funny, but now… I know it was wrong.”
The classroom was silent.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Sharma. And I’m sorry to all of you. I don’t want to be that person anymore.”
Ms. Sharma walked over, her voice gentle.
“Vivek, the bravest thing anyone can do is admit when they’re wrong. We all mess up. But what matters is what we do next. And I’m proud of you—for realizing this, and for speaking from the heart.”
Vivek looked around. His classmates were smiling. A few even clapped softly. Forgiveness had found its way back into the classroom.
From that day on, Vivek changed. He still had that spark, that shine—but now, it was honest. He apologized to each friend personally. He started telling the truth, even when it was hard. Slowly, the trust returned.
And Muffin? Well, he finally got a break from being blamed for everything.
Moral of the Story:
Lies may taste sweet at first—like a candy that melts quickly—but in the end, they leave a bitter feeling behind.
When Vivek first lied, it felt like magic. He escaped punishment, fooled others, and even felt powerful. But what started as fun slowly turned into something heavy. He lost the trust of his friends. He felt confused, guilty, and alone.
Lying may help you avoid a problem today, but it creates even bigger ones tomorrow. It builds walls between you and the people who care about you.
The truth, on the other hand, may feel hard at first—like biting into a sour fruit—but it turns sweet with time. It helps you grow, makes your heart lighter, and brings people closer. It earns respect, friendship, and peace of mind.
Just like Vivek learned:
Mistakes are okay. But choosing honesty, saying sorry, and trying to do better—that's what makes a person truly strong.
