Recarnated as a spider

1

Do you ever wonder how a spider feels when you squash it with a mop or a rolled newspaper, just because it crawled around or occupied the smallest corner of your room?

I already know that someone among you out there are casual spider killers? Do you have a vengeful streak towards spiders? Do you envy their ability to climb walls or leap long distances with webs?

If I need a reason to consider a spider's life precious, there's the fact that – my first friend is a spider.

Summer vacation was fast approaching, and the school had just announced an emergency closure a week before the scheduled break. The weather that day was boiling and there was an endless desire to stay as cool as possible. My body was heating up, and I was sweating profusely.

But you would probably be surprised to see me running along the corridor carrying a large blue box, barely hanging between the grip of both of my hands. My eyes were captivated by the sticker of a munchkin cat holding up a soda can in its left hand and thumbs up on the side of the box, drinking the latest released cola with a sour touch of coffee and freshness of mint.

You must have thought that it was shocking to see my jealousy to an animated cartoon mascot character and suggest that 'you should get yourself one too'.

Maybe I was a bit distracted by the heat, and running under the sun might had dried my sweat faster. Even though it was a holiday, there was no rest for me but an urgency to meet the deadline was surely driving me crazy.

Because if you look inside the box, you will find lots of choco bars, cold drinks, instant noodles, potato chips and cake. As I opened the door by kicking at its rear bottom with my foot, I mentally prepared myself for the obstacle course ahead.

First, I needed to fetch a chair from the side – to keep this box, until I was willing enough to idly stand around to let it just slip from under my hands. Then I moved some old video cassettes, carefully side-stepping the mountain of books, a number of which have formed inside my room over time. The absence of a book-shelf for accommodation of more of my belongings was clear to me as day.

Finally, I guided myself to bed, trying not to get my legs caught in between the mess of wires protruding from the gaming console and trip over. That was quite a rambunctious adventure, to begin my day with. But I would have rather preferred to conserve my energy by just lying down and not move.

Was it the preparation for a summer trip with family or friends the source of this chaos?

Definitely not, because I do not have the luxury to call someone my family. Both of my parents died in a car accident. You don't need to feel sorry for me because I was just seven years old back then and was taken under the protection of my mother's only little sister and her husband.

I would cry a lot at that time, but the tears soon dried out, and what remained was my desire to be loved and cared for which was met by the disgusted looks of my uncle and aunt. In their eyes, I was merely a burden, a load that had nothing in its possession, a being that was better off not existing in their world.

Initially, I was devastated and hurt but eventually, I gave up when I learned my uncle had been eyeing my parent's business for a long time, and now his joy knew no bounds. But to stop the outbreak of gossips in society he had to take me under his care.

As for friends, it was impossible for me to make one.

While you could have only heard the creaking voice of the slow-moving fan and failing to find any window but goggle at a small hole in the left corner of the room from where a tiny rays of light lit the undersized wretched cube.

But for me it was the only place where I had known peace. It was devoid of any human greed and hate. What remained was not happiness or joy of freedom from outside noises but emptiness and loneliness.