When a Firefly Took Me Back in Time
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Some evenings have a way of surprising you.
In Bangalore, especially in the middle of this concrete jungle, spotting something magical is rare. That’s why I feel lucky — at least my little patch of the city is still green. I’ve crammed every bit of space with fruit trees, flowering plants, and enough greenery to make you forget you’re in a city at all.
It was one of those evenings, about 7:30 PM. I was sitting on my swing chair. The power had gone out — not unusual — and our generator had finished its diesel. That meant a half-hour “cooling period” before the lights would come back. For most people, that’s annoying. For me, it’s an excuse to just… stop.
And then I saw it.
Something tiny. Moving. Not a streetlight, not a reflection. It hopped from branch to branch, pulsing with a soft yellow glow.
It came closer, hovering right next to my swing chair. Almost like it was saying,
"Hey… remember me?"
If you think the world is just about artificial light — the LED glare from billboards, the white flicker of tube lights — you’re wrong. Here was something that was the light. No wires. No switches. Just nature’s own little lantern.
Yes. I’m talking about the firefly — Minnapullu, Minchu Hulla… call it what you want.
It stayed for maybe ten minutes. Then it was gone. But in that short time, it took me somewhere I hadn’t been in years — my grandmother’s village.
Back to a Time Without Electricity
When I was a kid, until around 1992–94, my grandmother’s village had no electricity.
And I’ll tell you — those were some of the happiest years of my life.
No constant buzzing of machines. No traffic noise. No rush. Just me, nature, and the endless surprises the day brought.
Evenings were special. Around 6 PM, the kerosene lamp would be lit, filling the house with a warm, golden glow. The house itself sat on top of a hill, surrounded by areca nut trees, pepper vines, cocoa plants, banana trees — all framed by the Western Ghats.
When it rained, mist would roll in like a shy guest. Fog would drift across the valley. You could see smoke curling up from cooking fires on the opposite hill. It was the kind of view that made you just sit and watch, not because you had nothing to do, but because you didn’t want to miss a second of it.
And then, from the bushes, they would appear.
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The Night Parade of Tiny Lanterns
One by one at first. Then in twos and threes. Until the darkness outside was sprinkled with blinking dots of gold.
Some would float into our verandah, past the iron grills, as if checking who we were. A few landed on the mud roof. And then there were the brave ones — they’d come right up to the kerosene lamp, as if daring it to a contest.
Walking on the road outside was like stepping into a dream. Thousands of fireflies would light the path, guiding us without a word.
That’s the thing about childhood memories — they don’t fade. They just sit quietly in a corner of your mind, waiting for something, or someone, to switch them back on.
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The Treasure Hunt That Wasn’t
That evening in Bangalore, as I sat watching my lone visitor, I must have drifted into a dream.
In it, the firefly started moving ahead, pausing now and then for me to follow. We went through my balcony garden, then down the street… and then somehow into a thick forest that didn’t belong in Bangalore at all.
It led me to a massive banyan tree. Between its roots was an old, rusted box. My heart was pounding. I bent down, opened it — and—
“Wake up!”
My brother’s voice cut through everything. Just like that, the forest, the box, the firefly — all gone.
Apparently, in the real world, I’d just been sitting with my mouth half open.
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Why We See Less of Them Now
I don’t see fireflies as often anymore. Maybe it’s the city lights, maybe pollution, maybe just us humans forgetting to give nature her space.
Still, I try. In my Bangalore home, I’ve planted fruiting and flowering plants in my balcony and in the small bit of land I own. Maybe that’s why I still get rare visits from them.
Each sighting feels like a gift. A reminder that the most beautiful things often appear when we slow down.
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Firefly Facts: Your Mini Guide
🔆 What are they?
Beetles with built-in lanterns, glowing through a chemical reaction called bioluminescence.
🌍 Where are they found?
In warm, humid regions across the world, especially near water, forests, and fields.
⏳ When do they glow?
Mostly during summer evenings in the mating season.
💡 How do they make light?
By mixing luciferin (a chemical) with oxygen and an enzyme called luciferase.
⚠ Why are they disappearing?
Light pollution, pesticide use, habitat loss, and climate change.
🌱 How to help them?
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Reduce bright outdoor lighting
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Avoid pesticides
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Plant native greenery
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Keep small water sources like ponds
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A Little Light Before the Dark
A firefly’s glow doesn’t last forever. But maybe that’s the point.
The best things in life — the ones that stay with you — aren’t always the ones that last the longest. They’re the ones that arrive quietly, light up your world for a while, and then leave you smiling in the dark.
So if you ever see one, just stop. Watch it. And let it take you wherever it wants — whether that’s your own childhood verandah or, if you’re lucky, a treasure box hidden under a banyan tree.
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