Amaru decided to keep his inheritance in the bank, with a small stipend to be paid to him each month. It was enough for his few needs, and this enlightened solution left him free to dream, to think, to look, and to wonder.
One day Amaru was sitting in his back garden, not thinking about anything in particular, when a tiny movement in the corner caught his eye. Closer inspection revealed a small, brown spider, who was rapidly constructing a web. Amaru watched for a while, then went back to his meditation.
The next day, the same thing occurred. When Amaru inspected the web, it had become much larger and more intricate. Amaru was fascinated. So much work, so much complexity, from such a small spider!
Each day, Amaru went to look, and was continually amazed at the angles and patterns and intricacies of this Web. By now, it had taken over almost half of Amaru’s garden, and Amaru began to wonder whether the Spider would ever stop. What if he took over the whole house? The whole village?
An end to all this came suddenly with the unexpected arrival of Amaru’s Auntie Pushpa. She arrived out of breath from talking, shouting, and scolding non-stop all the way from her house at the other end of the village. She was accompanied by the object of her vociferations, a small, timid servant girl named Leela.
As soon as she was in the house, she started on Amaru, and Leela scuttled gratefully into the kitchen to put away the food they had brought.
“Amaru, what have you been doing with yourself? Look at the filth in this house! Look at the clutter! Who is washing your clothes? Leela!” she shouted, “we must clean this good-for-nothing’s house!” Still scolding, she went out into the back garden for a look. Before Amaru could react, the air was shattered by a loud screech.
“Oh my God, a monster! Leela! A broom, quickly!”
“No, Auntie,” cried Amaru, “it’s okay, he is my friend!”
But it was too late, because Auntie Pushpa had destroyed the Web with one sweep of her plump, bangled arm. Adjusting her sari briskly and virtuously, she then directed Leela in restoring the rest of the house to order. Then they left.
It was so quiet in the aftermath that Amaru wondered whether Auntie Pushpa had frightened away all of the birds and insects for miles around. He shuffled sadly out to his back garden, now devoid of interest, and sat himself down with a sigh. A few moments later, he sighed again and shifted his position. And found himself staring at a small, brown Spider, suspended by a single thread, rotating slowly, with all his legs blissfully spread out like the spokes of a rimless wheel.
“Please let me apologize for the destruction of your Web,” murmured Amaru. “So much work, so much energy, and all gone in a moment!”
“It is all the same to me,” said the Spider. “In this place, too, there is sun, and wind, and flies for my Web. You must learn to spin your Web,
O Amaru, wherever you happen to be.”