Destiny

It was a Sunday morning in early October. Me along with my better half sat in the living room sipping a hot cup of tea. Having already finished reading the newspaper, we were being entertained by avians who regularly visited us every morning.

A butterfly sipping nectar from the colourful flowers outside the window suddenly entered the living room through a small window opening. In few moments it realised that it has lost its way and has left the nature behind him. Just like me, now it can only see the plants and flowers through the closed glass window.

Having realised that it cannot survive for too long without being in nature, it started the quest to find the way out. It could not find the small window opening through which it had found the way in. Desperate to be in the wild, the butterfly kept hitting the closed window. It would rest a while on the window curtain and start the mission again.

Looking at the struggle, we opened the glass window to help it move out. But, by this time it was seemingly so terrified that instead of going out, it found solace on the ceiling. Our initial efforts, thus, went in vain. After some time, it settled on the window curtain. Seeing the opportunity, I steadily went near the curtain and delicately held the butterfly between my thumb and index figure. I remembered how during the childhood we used to run behind the small yellow butterflies, catch them and then release them again.

I slowly extended my hand out of the window and released the butterfly in the wild. Before me and my wife could rejoice the freedom of the butterfly, a bulbul sitting on the tree nearby took flight in the direction of the butterfly, caught hold of it in its beak and flew away. We stood in the window as helpless onlookers.

Did we help the butterfly or the bulbul? Probably, both of them. The bulbul must have definitely thanked us for a great meal. What about the butterfly? Will it have cursed us? We would never know. While trying to save the life of the poor creature, we had played the role of a Yamdoot [representative of the God of Death], though inadvertently.  A well-intentioned help had unexpectedly turned into a tragedy.

We were both troubled for the next few days, constantly revisiting the entire episode in our conversations. The memory of that tragic event still lingers, etched in our minds. The image has left such a lasting impression that it refuses to fade away.

- Nishad Umranikar