Tuesday, 4 May 2010

An eight-legged ode to life

Shared a ride with a spider the other day.
Didn't want to, actually. Just didn't spy it (him? her? well, not sure), in time, else I'd have vaulted out.

Still, now that we were together, I was forced to acknowledge this other presence. And forced to, for once, actually observe a spider in action.

Each time our auto swerved--and believe you me there were potholes aplenty on our route-- spider would swing precariously on an unbelievably thin thread. The auto went right, spider swung left. The auto braked hard, spider was flung up, furiously. Cars honked, cyclists tottered dangerously close, other autos trundled past at breakneck speed. But spider didn't get dislodged. Spider didn't perish. That silken thread was pulled tortuously taut more than once, but it didn't break. And spider's balance never slipped.

Watching this most un-comely of creatures perform a tightrope dance to survive in our urban jungle, fascinated me. Spider's confidence that it's own body would safeguard it's life, amazed me and humbled me.

I learnt some things that day.

I need to respect spider. After all, it can beat our friendly neighbourhood Spiderman totally, utterly hollow.

I am a social creature, but I like to call myself "independent".
Yet, a little being no bigger than my thumb nail made me realise that I too need my own web of family, (especially big C and lil C), loved ones and friends, to survive. To stay balanced. To stay alive.