When a Scorpion Found Its Way Into My Countryside House’s Bathroom

It was the lockdown of 2020—when everyone was quarantined in their homes, so were we. Except they were in the cities, and I was in my hometown countryside home—far away from the hustle and bustle. For once, during that time, we felt safer in the middle of nowhere. But the countryside and jungles also meant snakes and scorpions.

Nobody knew what to do with so much spare time in their homes—trying out Zoom classes and discovering different sides of existence. But I was fortunate enough not to be bored, as the house had a lot of wildness yet to be uncovered.

One such fine day (I think it was evening—when everyone was out on the terrace or in the lawn, finally outside after being indoors all day), I went to the bathroom. I was in a bit of a hurry, so I got down to business right away. I was done and about to leave when I saw something inside the commode. As I slowly came closer and peeped in, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I stared in horror—there was a big scorpion sitting right there, perfectly still!

I screamed, and in no time, everyone came running into the bathroom, alarmed. I pointed at the scorpion, still baffled and frozen. I almost collapsed in shock—wondering, terrifyingly, if it had bitten me and I hadn’t noticed!

But there was no sign of pain or even a bite mark. I heaved a sigh of relief. My dad rushed in with a long twig, carried the scorpion on it and left it on the terrace so it could run away. We took tons of photos of it before it did, though. It was a ride – an unforgettable experience of lockdown era

It also got me thinking. How scared we are of animals, of things we don’t understand. They do what they do, in self defence. And this scorpion could have too, perhaps – if it had perceived danger. But it didn’t—and I would’ve never noticed it if I hadn’t looked.

How many tiny, seemingly insignificant yet purposeful creatures have we crushed under the weight of human ego? And what if something bigger than our ego perceives us as insignificant—just as we perceive small animals?

Why should we stand in the path of those who don’t interfere in ours? Have we not also robbed animals of their habitats? What right do we have, then, to complain when they find their way into our homes—a manmade shelter built on their destroyed habitat?

Humankind was one with them once, one with nature because we are all part of it. But what happens when we perceive ourselves to be different, better than the rest, just because we are ‘the most intelligent species’? Wars, calamities—we can’t even live in peace among ourselves. What’s the use of this so-called human-level intellect, then?

My brother jokingly remarked, after the incident: “A scorpio (yes, that’s ironically my zodiac sign) got scared of a scorpion!” And yes, perhaps we all go into a sort of fight-or-flight mode when confronted with things that trigger us—things that mirror our own reflection. So much so that we can’t even spare a scorpion—or, if that’s too extreme, a spider or cockroach that wanders into our bathroom, not knowing where else to go. In my case, I can’t stand lizards. But even then, I beg my father not to shoot them with his airgun—back at our countryside home, where every creepy-crawly finds its path, one way or another—because this was their home first.

I implore you to explore your surroundings—and look out for those who existed long before us, and will likely remain long after. You may not think much of the spider you kill, but perhaps ponder – do you really have to kill it? Or can the same purpose – of getting rid of it – be served with a gentler option? Here are two short poems that absolutely have my heart, regarding this very topic:

“She asks me to kill the spider.

Instead, I get the most

peaceful weapons I can find.

I take a cup & a napkin,

I catch the spider, put it outside

and allow it to walk away.

If I am ever caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, just being alive and not bothering anyone

I hope I am greeted

with the same kind

of mercy”

– @rudyfrancisco

“And God,

please let the deer

on the highway

get some kind of heaven.

Something with tall soft grass

and sweet reunion.

Let the moths in porch lights

go some place

with a thousand suns,

that taste like sugar

and get swallowed whole.

May the mice

in oil and glue

have forever dry, warm fur

and full bellies.

If I am killed

for simply living,

let death be kinder

than man.”

– Althea Davis

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• scorpion