Change

“How did you change so much?”

One afternoon my mother asked. We were sitting in the living room of our house. I had come home for a festival.

“You were such an irritable and petulant kid, only needing one innocuous thing to make you angry and cry for hours,” She said, laughing.

It was true.

As a child, I was indeed, snappish. Picking up fights at places where others felt bonhomie. What was truly a harmless reminiscence of the silly childhood days made me think of all the times, I had been asked this question, both frivolously and otherwise.

And subsequently, all those times when I have asked the question to some of my friends whom I remembered differently from what I encountered many years later.

Why do we change?

Is it that the circumstances force us to?

Is it something to do with the good and more often the bad times one has to endure? Or it just that we grow up and concoct our personalities in the manner our experiences have taught us?

A butterfly flew in, causing a respite to the chain of thought.

And then it struck!

We all are born caterpillars, cocooned by the warmth and sustenance provided by the loved ones, too comforting and warm to leave and walk away.

But then we all, gradually, do.

And regardless of how much the external factors dictated the causality of you breaking out of the cocoon, it was just a part of the process.

It needs a lot of oversight and perhaps a little bit of zooming out from our own standpoint to be able to appreciate and make sense of it all- and be able to connect those dots – that the tragedies, vagaries, and serendipities are all merely a part of the process.

That, we did not change because we had to or the circumstances made us to,

But rather, we changed because we’re supposed to…

 

 

(Pic courtesy: pinterest.com)

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