TATA BI-BOI

MY DEAR SPIDER

While I sit and shit
Over the Indian toilet-
(Yes, we have everything indian in India!)
-I allow myself to exist and think.
To think about:
The silence that life conspires,
The noise that death inspires,
The connecting coma that quagmires.
Careful to ignore the incidents I admire.
Then suddenly I spot a spider.
It seems stuck in corner of own woven web
Despite having not only two but eight legs.
Usually, I cringe at its sight.
I wash it away with the water
With all my might.
Until it goes in the hole downright.
To feel sense of superiority inside
I choose to fight not flight
Owing to the difference in our size.
But things are stranger this time.
This spidey makes me curious.
Seeing it struggle I get nervous.
Is it a mutant? I wonder!
Were eight not enough? I ponder.
With ten legs wouldn't it be
More difficult than it already is?
To stay in or leave the web.
Will it need a poll from the legs?
If five say- stay and five- let's leave
Such a dilemma it will be in!
This poor being
Dancing alone in tangled string
Will it find a mate for dating?
Or will it be mocked for being itself?
Let's help and dissect- I suggest myself.
But does it need my help?
Or will it figure it out on its own?
I shouldn't try to change it
Like to me the world has done.