Return to Innocence

I spent my early childhood (until Class 3) in a small place called Chickaballapur.  Unlike the present day, parents used to send their children to school by themselves.  Many fears that exist today – of safety – didn’t rankle them much then.  I remember going to school by myself from Class I.  And, while going to school (many times, with friends who were living in the same area), if we had time we’d meander our way to school than take the straight route – go through the Weavers’ Colony or the Church or the Bus Stand, and so on.

Weavers’ Colony was a sight to behold.  Heaps and heaps of fresh bamboo would be found strewn around.  Even as I type this I am transported to that erstwhile world where I’d stand intoxicated by its woody aroma and mesmerized by the nimbleness of the weavers’ fingers weaving baskets and other articles. 

Church was another favourite haunt.  It was an imposing yet calming structure to us.  Very silent.  And just the perfect place to play.  Lush green lawns, umpteen shrubs and bushes and trees in its sylvan gardens were ideal for children and their pranks.  Invariably on weekends we’d find ourselves in the church gardens, chasing butterflies.  And they were in plenty – both in numbers and variety.  Every colour of the rainbow and beyond was there on display, fluttering all over.  We’d scream, holler and run after all of them.  It also helped that my chikkamma (maternal aunt, in Kannada) was staying with us and she was a student to life sciences.  She would accompany us as it was an ideal place for her to collect her specimens (I learnt the word ‘Specimen’ then).  There was a tall, glass jar filled with multitudes of butterflies at home as my chikkamma’s specimens and I too had contributed to it.  And, I’d even become an expert at drawing a butterfly!

Butterflies started disappearing from around my surroundings and my mind too as I grew up.  And, soon it was plastic that had replaced bamboo to make baskets and other storage articles.  

Years and even decades rolled by.  No one sees butterflies around whatever little gardens and parks we have around us.   We’d consider lucky if we see moths at night during the monsoons!  But suddenly, while in Jammu, I started noticing that butterflies indeed still fluttered and traipsed around.  All around the office area, over the wild plants that had grown (or were planted).  White, yellow, blue and red, small, big, happily flew around.  Oh, such a joyful sight that sent me thirty years back into the past!  I ran – despite my age and the onlookers – to capture them; though this time on my camera than with my hands!  I was hindered by three constraints to click pictures – my slow reflexes, my colourblindness and my basic camera. With great difficulty I was able to snap a few pictures that transport the child in me back to where it belongs!   And, I’m sharing a few of them here.