Web of Terror

I saw him the other day, majestic, enormous, a colossal structure hanging upside down on the huge circular web he had so intricately constructed for himself. The ambiance seemed to exude his pride and power as he softly budged on his web. He appeared to be quite pleased with himself as he had found a safe haven to build his web in a secure corner of the kitchen garden at the backside of my house. He must have observed the absence of human interference and chose the safe spot for himself. But gigantic that he was, I easily spotted him on my way down the stairs that day. His diabolic eight arms were sinisterly large for his body. His web which resembled a prison in more ways than one, held captive numerous smaller and feebler insects who found themselves stuck there for eternity. Some of them had apparently put up a brave fight to break free, ending up doubly entangled while Mr. Spider smirked as he hung upside down.

I observed him for a few minutes and made a decision.

On my way to work that day, I had informed our gardener about the spider and asked him to pull down the web. It was as creepy as it was threatening. When I returned from work, I went to check behind the house to see if the gardener had remembered the extra work I had entrusted upon him. However, I hadn’t said anything to him about killing the arachnid.  I have never been in favour of killing any creature however tiny they might be.

As I climbed down the staircase, I found the web as well as the spider missing. On walking a little farther, I beheld the big black monster lying on its back on the small cemented path in the garden. He looked dead, his eight arms, lifeless and stricken and battered. He reminded me in some inexplicable way of the great fall of the Bastille on the eve of the French Revolution, the Bastille, a symbol of power and authority in the centre of Paris. As with all tyrannical monarchs of the ancient and the present time, downfall has been a constant outcome.

Power in its extremity is an ominous precursor to death and annihilation. The big black arachnid might have been one of the minutest examples of a foreboding end to supremacy in a miniature form. But every big and small must come to an end. Power is but a momentary flexing of muscles, a transient phase, the stage before obliteration of the great and the tiny, the supreme and the minuscule.

The Bastille might have been a symbol of French supremacy, but the throne came down, and so did the vast empire. Similarly, instances of violent activities in today’s world are but a simple repetition of History. The perpetrators of crimes everywhere have one universal purpose – an insufferable thirst for absolute power. And they make religion a scapegoat, concealing their ugly faces under its garb. They take refuge in the vulnerability of their beliefs and invent new ways to construe their religious conviction, thus deriving dreadfully erroneous interpretations of their religion.

They are like insects multiplying in thousands, the squashing of which only further aggravates the state of affairs. They are like the spider whose sadism is but a game of power and a fake sense of triumph over innocents that one day causes its death and destruction. The web of terrorism will ensnare the webmasters themselves someday and strangle them in their self-built internets of brutality and genocide. Their end will be celebrated by the world while History will blame them for their atrocities.

And here in this corner of the garden, all that remained of the spider was a battered body, the web ruined and its prisoners set free, some dead, some rejoicing at the emancipation.

The spider had lost no time in manufacturing the web as big as he could; he made use of the opportunity to construct the hideous death-trap. It kept capturing the delicate butterflies, moths and flies while the spider relished every bit of it, devouring them at his will. And finally with one blow, he and his web came down like a dethroned dictator, lifeless and still, all his pride having melted into the air that once reeked of his shocking authority.

A day will come when all acts of terror will be rewarded in a manner unimaginable and most gruesome. “The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with the bones…”

However mighty, they will be crushed like paper crumpled and thrown into the litter bin.  One day this will all end in a dreadful climax that might also see many innocents sacrificed for the greater good. And that day is not far because the world is almost satiated with terrorist activities. The end cannot be seen but can undoubtedly be predicted. We shall eagerly wait for that day and we shall rejoice if we live to see the day.