Tangavelu the brown garden spider and Salman the black louse were the best of friends and used to be inseparable. The two knew each other since childhood days, having grown up on adjacent marigold stalks. But things were slowly changing. Nature has this wonderful phenomenon called instinct, and both Salman and Tangavelu were coming to grips with its reality.
Of late one look at Salman was enough to send Tangs scurrying into his kitchen, where he pulled out book after cookery book bequeathed to him by his late mom. Tangs salivated and drooled over the glossy pages of “Quick fix mix – gastronomy for the working spider”. He wasn’t sure if “The lousy broth” would taste better than “Crispy bug chips”. Maybe he could manage both - after all Salman was fast growing into a prime, exemplary louse, at least size wise.
Salman meanwhile was no longer drawn to the glow in Tangavelu’s shifty eyes. That radiance, which he earlier perceived as one of friendship and warmth now had a menacing, diabolical look. He did not like playing hop skip and jump with Tangs anymore. Somehow he got this strange feeling that Tangs was always on the lookout to jump on him! He shuddered as he recalled his last meeting with Tangs – a cold blistery morning a few days back, when he was sitting on the edge of a desiccated leaf, ruminating over his life, when he felt the leaf beneath him creak and move almost silently. He jumped around and saw Tangavelu, motionless and with his fangs raised in unison. Just as he was about to screech out, Tangs pulled out a worn out toothbrush, and began to scrub his fangs, humming an innocuous oldie, and trying to give an unsurprised, bored look. “Mean weather for this time of the year,” he uttered as he turned around and marched back. Salman beat a hasty retreat, having lost any interest in wanting to ponder about life any more at that moment.
A few summers pass by.
The field in which Tangs and Salman had made their home were now flush with bright flowers and young buds, all swaying in the gentle breeze, as the favourable July sunshine continued to make life a joy for all concerned. Except for Tangs that is, who over the years had developed an allergy to pollen, and was sneezing and sniffing his life away. “Damn these flowers!” he muttered. Adding to his aggravated mood were his repeated failures in making a meal out of Salman. Salman had only grown stronger and faster, and sleight was no longer Tangavelu’s best friend. He had to think of something fast if he was to turn that vista of “Crispy bug chips” into a reality.
His idea came in a fleeting moment of brilliance, something relatively uncommon in the arachnid world. He decided to call Salman over for dinner knowing quite well that Salman could not refuse an offering of fresh honeydew and tender hibiscus buds. He elaborately planned out the rest of the menu, and spent the whole of the afternoon gathering the ingredients for the feast. He sent his invitation to Salman, through Prabhakar the caterpillar, asking him to drop over for a ‘quick bite’ anytime in the evening. The hard work out of the way, he relaxed back and sat down to catch his favourite serial – “Crawl into my parlour”.
Why Salman made the stupidity of accepting the invitation is indeed hard to fathom, and so not worth dwelling into. In his final moments, as he was being drawn into a silky embrace, he saw a bright light flash before his eyes a few times. Mistaking it for a luminous blaze from the heavens, he steadied himself for his eternal journey.
