• illicit_skunk 9w

    glossy worms

    three pet worms, till date.
    two of them green.
    one spotted amongst a bunch of chillis
    bought from the local vegetable vendor,
    the other one crawled onto my finger
    out of a pile of stray flower petals
    placed as an offering for Maa Saraswati.

    another, pink;
    from a bundle of onion flower stalks
    (we call them peyajkoli in Bengali).

    serene. glossy. wiggly.
    always eating. always shitting.
    crawly. mute.
    those worms.
    basking in solitude.
    away from their natural habitat but
    watched, fed, taken care of.
    i still wonder if my care
    ever made a difference.

    each of them lived for a week.
    i loved them. i love them still.
    if i could, I would
    have pumped them back to life;
    but there's this beauty in letting go,
    a strange ache
    in giving into the ruthless flow
    of life
    (which anyway shreds you
    into an unrecognizable mass
    of melancholy,
    if you refuse to do so).

    there's an absurd twinge in letting go
    and nothing settles it.
    no assurance makes up for it.
    it's on you, whatever you make of it.
    there's a new void and this void shows.
    this void is yours.
    it's indisposable.

    i live with many such voids.
    voids where people should be;
    seconds fleeting by,
    where moments should be.
    i will be a void one day.
    a glossy worm,
    eating away holes in a chilli.