’ve figured out, as a fact, that we never really grow up. Strange thought, isn’t it? Offensive to some, maybe, but it’s true.

I’m not writing from some high pedestal, claiming to have rowed far enough from childhood to declare I’ve ‘grown up.’ That would be as misguided as Christopher Columbus’s claim to have “discovered” America. (Spoiler: he didn’t.)

Okay, I’ll level with the sceptics: we do grow up. But the grown-up self is merely a layer over who we once were; our essence remains the same. Our inner child, the young person exposed to both love and fear, still lives inside us, closer to the surface than we think.

We all understand, to some degree, how our behaviours are moulded over time by the environments we grow up in — environments shaped by countless factors we never fully unpack. But I recently witnessed a sweet epiphany that reminded me just how near the surface our inner child stays and how it pops up whenever we face situations reminiscent of our past.

What situation? Well, anyone from a desi household knows exactly what I mean. Remember when something went slightly wrong — an honest mistake, of course, (what else would you expect from a child?) — and we’d got scolded for it? Breaking a plate or a glass due to typical childlike carelessness was punished as if we should’ve known better, ashamed of disappointing our parents. Now, when a similar situation occurs in our adulthood, I’ve seen people respond, internally, if not outwardly, in exactly the same way. They ‘expect’ to be scolded, even when the action wasn’t a conscious one.

I’ll level with the sceptics: we do grow up. But that grown-up self is merely a layer over who we once were; our essence remains the same.

Here’s my recent experience: a friend and I went on a trip that became one of our favourite memories. At the end, I dropped him off at the bus station. Two minutes earlier, he had been explaining why he was wearing shorts (for comfort), had a pillow in hand (for sleeping). Next, in full “sleeping-beauty” mode, he whipped out his sunglasses and said, “Whatever I do, I do with style.” I laughed hysterically, pulled him in for a hug and in the awkwardness of a car hug, accidentally broke his sunglasses. My heart sank into chaos, panic and a fear of disappointment.

What happened after that surprised me: he just laughed. “You broke the one thing that was going to make me look cool today!” he said jokingly. In an instant, he soothed that inner child’s panic in me. And I thought, “What a small yet beautiful thing to do!”

I’m not villainising our parents; they had their reasons. People of that era grew up cherishing every possession, because their parents, unlike ours, took years to accumulate even a few precious items. Anything they had was valuable. Don’t believe me? I dare you to throw away an unused blanket from your grandparents’ storage. So, breaking things back then was taboo.

Now think of how you could be that person for someone else. A little patience can turn chaos into kindness. Honest, brief moments like these have shown me that we never really grow up. I’ve noticed countless times when a tiny gesture of patience earned someone’s trust, like the time I happily turned the car around twice because a friend forgot something, or when I comforted the friend who dented the car I’d lent him. Trust me, a little kindness goes a long way, especially when it touches that sweet, innocent child inside us.

Shaafay Zia is an ex-serviceman and a freelancer. He can be reached at shaafayzia@gmail.com