Where do butterflies go when it rains?
If we could become invisible for a day, what would we do?
If we lost all our memories, would we still be the same person?
Can we answer these questions? Have we ever really thought about them? And how are they even relevant? Do we need to think about them now?
Once, there was him. His eyes lit up at the smallest things, and he found a spark in the things the world barely noticed. Somewhere along the way, he grew up, and those little things started feeling too little. Sometimes, they became almost invisible.
Yes, it’s about him, who got excited at the thought of the incoming rain, who eagerly waited for his friend to knock on his door in the evening, who felt elated every time he heard the sound of the gate opening, waiting to check what his dad had brought home in his bag.
And then he grew up. So much so that he began to disappear behind his own shadow.
And this didn’t happen overnight. It happened gradually, somewhere amidst relationships, responsibilities, deadlines, and depression. Somewhere in the so-called transition from who he was to who he had to become.
From someone who waited for the rain for no reason to someone who barely noticed the sky turning grey.
From someone who called his friends just to sit together to someone who kept saying, “Let’s catch up later.”
From someone who savoured that late-night bite of food to someone who simply ate it.
Perhaps this is the saddest part of growing up.
Nobody ever told him that one day, he might outgrow the very things that once made life feel magical. That he might overlook the things he once looked forward to the most.
He just became too occupied looking for happiness in places he hadn’t reached yet to notice the little pieces of it that were already here.
And now, I am the grown-up him, searching for the innocent younger me.
I may never find him, but if I ever do, I want to tell him...
“Dude, you were right. So damn right!
You were innocent. You were fearless. Life was so good when your bag was full of books. You were doing just fine when you came home before sunset. You were fortunate when your ears still heard those magical words, ‘Come, let’s play.’
And today, when I think of you, I realise that I want to be a little more like you again.
That doesn’t mean I’ll stand under the sky all day, waiting for the rain to arrive. It means I want to enjoy every moment I live in. I want to embrace even the tiniest things that happen around me. I want to find a miracle in everything I observe and discover a little magic in everything I do, whether it’s something big or small.
Maybe that’s what you were trying to teach me all along.
Embrace the little things, coz they do matter.
And so, I told him, “Now I understand where butterflies go when it rains.”
Now, I can tell you what I’d do if I became invisible for a day.
Not because I suddenly found all the answers, but because I finally gave those questions the time to exist in my mind. I let them wander, made room for them, and realised that not every question needs an immediate answer. Sometimes, all it needs is a little time and a little wonder.
And somehow, that made my mind feel a little more peaceful.
I began to realise that the smallest things could make me happier than ever. Saying “Hi” in my old school friends’ WhatsApp group no longer felt like a task I could put off. Calling a friend didn’t have to wait for a better time. Looking at the sky didn’t have to serve a purpose.
I didn’t have to wait for something extraordinary to happen to feel alive.
I just had to start noticing the ordinary things again.
And finally, he replied...
“You may grow. You may change. You may laugh through moments and cry through depressions. Deadlines may pile up, relationships may affect you, and life may take you places you never imagined.
But through all of it, through everything you become and everything you leave behind, never forget one thing...
It’s still you.”
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