Spider, Spider, small and wise, tell us your stories,open our eyes.

“I remember holding my poop for days as a kid to avoid going to the bathroom. Not that I didn’t try. But every time I went in, a giant huntsman spider would be there, staring at me from under the flush tank.

Bathrooms in Assam seem to have this unspoken agreement with critters that also call it home.

My father would always say, ‘Look at your size and his size, he’s probably more afraid of you than you are of him.’ And I got the logic, but its just a lot bigger in my head. I’d be lying if I said I don’t have the urge to immediately whack them as soon as I see them.”

A viral poem is making the rounds on social media about a wounded spider, leaving people weeping and rethinking their fears, letting compassion win. It goes like this:

To the spider,

the shadowed creature in the corner of the room

I hate you.

You scared me just as your brothers and sisters did before you,

and i will tell you what i told them,

You are a trespasser that does not belong here.

You entered without knocking.

Roamed freely like this is your home and decorated my walls with unwanted, silk webs without asking.

You may not be the only killer here, but only one of us is innocent,

and it's not you.

The spider says to me, it's brittle body squashed and dying, It's not you, either.

There is venom infused in my fang-shaped maws,

but i was born this way.

What's your excuse?

If you could count your murders, how long would you be counting?

Am i really this threatening?

I thought human hearts were bigger that mine, but you have killed with malice instead of marrow of your bones and poison bubbling behind your scowl

And i'm sorry for scaring you,

but i didn't know being seen would cost me my life.

Maybe

If you didn't fabricate the prickly feeling of my legs creeping upon your skin while I crawled across the living room floor,

If the webs I weaved were made of cotton candy and captured clementines, cherries, and sweet peas rather than struggling wings and blood;

If i had a pink tongue, push fur, a wagging tail, and fur legs instead of eight

If i had only two eyes, and they were glittering stars and not supermassive block holes;

If i was the same but looked different;

maybe you wouldn't hate me.

Maybe you wouldn't have loved me, either, and maybe you still wouldn't have let me stay,

but maybe you would've shown me the door or a window. Maybe you would've shown me mercy.

(But you are still standing, and I am still sorry).

I think

maybe,

no matter how reluctant,

mercy would've been enough.

10 legs, 8 broken.

(We were unable to trace the origin of this beautiful poem but if you know the author please get in touch)

The poem reminded us of a folktale from the Rabha community of Assam. It’s a lovely story of two sisters and their afterlives as spiders:

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Threads of Life: The Origin of Spiders

(A Rabha folktale)

Long ago, in a humble village, there lived a very poor family who survived solely by begging. They had two grown daughters, whose beauty was said to captivate even the gods.

The dire condition of the family moved the Gaon-burha, a village elder, who took the younger daughter as a house-help to assist with domestic chores. Her dedication and enthusiasm impressed the elder’s family greatly, leading to her marriage to their middle son. However, two years passed with no sign of children, and although she excelled in many tasks, she was unskilled in weaving. This shortcoming led to growing hostility from her in-laws. Though they had chosen her for their son, they neither had the heart to confront her nor the means to send her away. The mother-in-law began manipulating her son, painting his wife in a bad light to make him abandon her. Torn between his love for his wife and his duty to his mother, the son eventually gave in.

One day, following his mother’s plan, the son took his wife to a distant hill under the guise of fetching wild-banana leaves. He asked her to wait by a stream near a thick forest while he gathered the leaves, but instead, he returned home alone. As the sun set and darkness crept in, the poor wife, realizing her husband would not return, took shelter in a nearby cave covered by thick creepers. Despite being surrounded by wild beasts, she remained unharmed.

“Oh, dear Lord! Why must I endure this? Is this all that fate has for me? So much sorrow... so much pain...” Her heart-wrenching cries moved even the plants, creepers, and insects of the forest, but none could help her.

After some time, she heard a voice, though she saw no one. Unsure if it was human, she listened as it said, “Don’t cry, my dear. They will never come for you. You must live here for the rest of your life.” She looked around but saw no one. She cried again, cursing her luck. With only her clothes and no food or water, she lay there until, over time, she transformed into a wild spider.

Her elder sister, also unskilled in weaving, faced a similar fate. Abandoned by her husband, she returned to her parents’ home, enduring their scolding and pain. In her sorrow, she picked up threads at a corner outside, unable to weave, and eventually became a spider. Their inability to weave condemned them to an afterlife as spiders, forever preparing the warp for weaving.

To this day, the Rabhas believe that all domestic and wild spiders are none other than the two sisters, once abandoned by their loved ones.

Children still sing in unison whenever they see spiders-

“We are two sisters

With love we live

We make a home

Where we keep on

Pulling threads all day.

Sing sing sing grang

Who sit to weave?”

(Source: nezine.com)

Having spiders in your home is actually a good thing. The presence of spiders can indicate a healthy environment, as they tend to thrive in places where other insects are plentiful, suggesting good air quality and a balanced ecosystem.

A friend once told us “As a child, when me and my cousins used to get small cuts or scrapes, our Aaita (grandmother in Assamese) would reach out into a corner in the store room, pull a bit of spider web, and apply it to our wounds. I am not sure if there’s science to this, but she used to say its good for the wound.”

Today, experiments have shown that silk from the common house spider can inhibit the growth of some bacteria. Spider silk is also biodegradable, non-antigenic and non-inflammatory – which are all ideal properties for wound dressings.

(Source: microbiologysociety.org)

We were fortunate to have grandparents who remembered our ancestral folklore. And lived to tell them. But today, there's a lack of storytelling and oral traditions, that once taught us to care for the planet and be kind to all creatures, especially the small ones that often go unnoticed. These little beings, though tiny, play a crucial role in maintaining the delicate balance of our world. By reviving these stories, we can inspire a new generation to appreciate and protect the intricate web of life around us.

If you are still scared of them, we are not here to change your mind. But next time you see them in your home, thank this beautiful world for they are still here. Right here. In our homes. The bugs, the moths, the occasional lizard eggs and the ants that line up over loose sugar on the kitchen platform. Thank the skies, for this means we are part of a beautiful ecosystem we all call home, and not just living alone in a sterile box with windows.