Socially evolved beings indeed.

As I carried the crumb back home, my mind started playing philosopher again. "Look around" it said. I obeyed. And the following is what my mind made my eyes see. Standing at a distance were our “Kshatriyas”. Protectors whenever the need arose. They would lay down their lives without a moment’s hesitation so that others may live. Amongst us were the survivors of many left behind by the slain valiant. We made sure they never went wanting. There were many stories our history told that could be used as an excuse to never choose to fill the shoes of a kshatriya. Yet, there were many fools who still did not heed. I walked past many of the other “Kamgaar” brothers who toiled to ensure our passage back home was as streamlined as possible. Smoothening the many passages. Building new ones to accommodate our ever growing family. Following orders from those who led because they had done it all before. They dug where they were told to. They excavated. Transported the dirt. Cleaned. All for us. Nothing was ever too dirty for them and they were never too dirty for us to embrace as our own. Her? Well, I had never seen her in person. Since my birth I had been told that our duty was to serve the queen. “Our mother”. She was the reason we all came to existence. And she was what bound us as one. No. had never seen her. But always felt her presence. I always knew that she was amongst us. And any wrong I did, weather or not I was punished for, would put me at shame for having wronged her. I walked further still carrying the crumb. It would feed many of us. Even those whose duty was to but serve our mother. They would see to her every need. “The Pujaris”. Tend to her. Ensure she is kept as a queen should be. In return she ensures that we have enough hand to keep working.

My load was many times my size and many times my weight. Yet I walked on. I did this everyday. No. No. Not the philosophy. My work. I did it all. Everything that was asked of me. “Vishwakarma” you could call me. And I am but a part of a mighty colony. We are surrounded by giants. Giants called. ‘MAN’. Giants who spit on their very own who protect them. Protectors who abuse the hands that feed them. Devotees who disrespect their very reason for their existence. And they form a part of a society that thrives on idolizing the earthly and conniving and sodomising their earth. I am a part of a colony free of corruption. Of segregation. That does not thrive by thinking low of the person beside me. Who am I, you ask?

Well, I am but a tiny worker ant. A minute speck. Yet, I am bigger than you will ever be.