A tiny worm
is born from a tiny egg in the soil. It is made up almost entirely of water. It
needs water, sufficient moisture to survive, else it could simply dry up in the
heat or sun. Its on its own as soon as it is born. It _has_ to find its
own way to survive and thrive in this world and be ready to itself become a
parent in about six weeks. There are no guarantees of any safety or security.
At any instant, it could be eaten by an early bird, or even a late bird. It could
be eaten by another animal or insect. It could be crushed or squashed by
someone walking by or shredded by a lawn mower, the plough of farmer or truck or
a digger. It could be plucked out of the ground, pierced by a hook and drowned
in the water by a fisherman trying to catch a fish.
The worm has
no minimum assured basic nutrition, food ration, protective care and nurturing safe
environment, no loving parents, or friends. There is no healthcare, pension,
safe retirement villages to enjoy the last days of its life. It has no rights
enshrined in any society of its peers or outside of that.
I don’t think
there has been any worm that has complained, expressed unhappiness at its lot
in life and become depressed. I don’t think any worm to date has felt entitled
and demanded from others what it feels is its ‘birthright’ or fundamental
rights. Yet, it goes on living, enjoying life unless it is hurt by someone or
something. Even then, it does not seek or demand anything from anyone else. It turns
perhaps, on its own. By itself, it tries to resist, fight or struggle to free
itself from its tormentor. It does the best it can. It is a life well lived no
matter how long or short.
I am simply
awed by the worm.
Copyright ©
Kannan Narayanamurthy 2022
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