The Spider with the Pinched Waist
In ancient times, when the sky crouched close and the rivers had no names, a lone spider spun the web deep within a dense thicket. This thicket lay at the edge of a peaceful kampung, where coconut palms swayed gently and cempaka flowers filled the air with their sweet perfume. This was no ordinary spider, for its web was vast and beautiful, stretching wide like a fisherman’s net cast upon the shore.
This magnificent web was not of its own making. Long ago, its wise father had woven this web with great patience and skill. Every thread was spun with care, every corner measured with precision. When the old spider passed on to the realm of ancestors, the young spider inherited this ancestral web and continued to expand it until it resembled a palace suspended in air.
The spider was renowned throughout the thicket for its prowess in catching prey. Like a master of silat, it would dash swiftly from the center to the edges of its web, never stumbling nor falling. Nature had blessed it with strong legs and eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. Every insect that became ensnared in its web would be swiftly captured and devoured with great appetite.
Yet, as the old saying goes, “even the sweetest honey can turn bitter,” for good fortune does not last forever. This spider possessed one terrible weakness, it could never be satisfied. Its belly was like an ocean that could never be filled, always demanding more. Day and night it ate, morning and evening it hunted for prey. Its body grew larger with each passing day, its belly swelling round like a beaten drum. In truth, it had become consumed by greed that knew no bounds.
Its neighbors would often whisper among themselves, “Alas, this spider is truly gluttonous. From dawn to dusk, it does nothing but eat.” Yet they dared not speak openly, out of respect for the ancestral web it had inherited.
One bright day, when the sun shone brilliantly and gentle breezes stirred the leaves, there came two spiders from neighboring kampungs. One arrived from the east, where the sun rises, and the other from the west, where the sun sets. Both wore neat attire and cheerful countenances, signs that they bore joyful tidings.
“Peace be upon you, dear brother,” said the spider from the east with the courtesy befitting Malay custom. “We have come to invite you to attend the wedding feast of our maiden daughter. The kenduri will be held this evening, and the dishes prepared are most delicious and nourishing.”
Almost at the same moment, the spider from the west spoke, “Forgive me, brother, but I too wish to invite you to our thanksgiving feast for the shifting of our new house. The kenduri will also begin this evening. The food we have prepared is the finest in our kampung.”
The greedy spider was struck with amazement upon hearing both invitations. Its eyes gleamed as if beholding gold and jewels. In its heart it thought, “How fortunate I am this day! Two feasts at the same time. How wonderful it would be if I could attend both at once!”
But then it realized a great problem. Both feasts would begin at the same hour, and the distance between the eastern and western kampungs was considerable. How could it possibly be in two places at once? It became confused and anxious, not knowing what course to take.
“Forgive me, honored guests,” said the greedy spider with a tone both polite and urgent. “Might I have a moment to consider this matter?”
Both messengers nodded with understanding and granted the spider time to think. They knew that accepting an invitation to a kenduri was an honor not to be taken lightly in Malay custom.
The greedy spider hastily sought counsel from its neighbors. Those who had long known its ways offered their thoughts.
“Why not ask other neighbors who have also received invitations?” suggested an old and wise spider. “Perhaps they have found a good solution.”
When asked, the neighbor dwelling to the left said, “I shall attend the feast in the west, for the food there is famous for its delicious gulai tempoyak.”
Meanwhile, the neighbor dwelling to the right declared, “I choose the feast in the east, for they serve rendang daging so renowned it is spoken of in every corner of the kampung.”
Hearing both neighbors’ choices, the greedy spider conceived what it believed to be a most clever plan. In its heart it thought, “Aha! I have devised a brilliant scheme. Why not use my neighbors to help me?”
With great enthusiasm, it summoned both neighbors and said, “Dear friends, I have a special request. Would you help me in a simple way?”
“Of course, how may we assist?” they replied with gracious courtesy.
The greedy spider then produced two strong silken cords from its web collection. These cords were the finest it had ever spun, strong and not easily broken.
“Here is my plan,” it explained with great confidence. “Friend who goes east, please take this cord. Friend who goes west, take the other. When the feast begins and the dishes are served, whoever receives food first, pull the cord strongly. I shall feel the pull and immediately go to whichever feast is ready first.”
Both neighbors exchanged glances with mixed feelings. They sensed something amiss with this plan, yet did not wish to disappoint their friend.
“But how can you go to two places in opposite directions?” asked the left neighbor with doubt.
“That is the purpose of these cords,” answered the greedy spider while tying both ends of the cords around its swollen belly. “These cords shall be my guides. Whoever pulls first, I shall follow there first. Then I can proceed to the second feast.”
Though still feeling something was not quite right, both neighbors finally agreed to help. They took their respective cord ends and prepared to depart for their chosen feasts.
“Remember, pull strongly when the food is ready,” instructed the greedy spider with great hope. “Do not forget!”
Both neighbors nodded and parted ways, one heading east and the other west. The greedy spider sat in the center of its web, waiting impatiently for the pull that would determine which feast it would attend first.
Time passed slowly. The greedy spider could hear sounds of preparation from both directions. From the east came the sound of gongs and kompang drums signaling the ceremony had begun. From the west came voices of people gathering and conversing merrily.
At last, the awaited moment arrived. When the dishes were served at both feasts, almost at the same instant, both neighbors began pulling their cords strongly. The neighbor in the east pulled eastward, and the neighbor in the west pulled westward.
“Alamak!” cried the greedy spider as it felt the strong pull from both directions at once. It tried to move east, but the pull from the west prevented it. It tried to move west, but the pull from the east held it back.
Both neighbors, unaware of what was happening at the other end of their cords, continued pulling harder. They thought the greedy spider was deliberately dawdling and needed stronger encouragement.
“Help! It hurts!” screamed the greedy spider, but its voice could not reach them, for both neighbors were too far away and busy with their respective feasts.
The pulling from both directions grew stronger. Its swollen belly began to feel tight and painful. The cords squeezed its belly ever tighter, pinching it like a gourd bottle. It tried to loosen the knots around its belly, but the cords were too tight and difficult to untie.
“Oh, please help!” it begged with deep regret. It began to realize that its greed had led it into terrible trouble.
Both neighbors continued pulling, heedless of what was happening. In the east, they were enjoying fragrant rice with delicious rendang. In the west, they were feasting on lemang and savory gulai tempoyak. Both were so absorbed in their meals they forgot about the cords they pulled.
After several hours, the pulling finally ceased. Both neighbors were full and tired. They set down the cords and began conversing with other guests. The poor greedy spider lay unconscious in its web, its belly terribly pinched like an hourglass.
When both neighbors returned from their feasts, they remembered their friend. With anxious hearts, they hurried home and found the greedy spider lying senseless in its web. Its belly had changed shape - from once round and large to small and pinched in the middle.
“Alamak! What have we done?” they cried with deep remorse. They tried to loosen the cord knots around their friend’s belly, but the cords were too tight and had adhered to the skin.
Several days later, by good fortune, the greedy spider finally awakened from its swoon. With great difficulty, it managed to free itself from the cords that had pinched its belly. But the damage was done - its belly was no longer swollen as before; indeed, its middle had become small and slender.
More surprising still, since that incident, the spider no longer felt the terrible hunger of before. Its once uncontrollable appetite had vanished completely. It ate only what was needed to live, no longer greedy and gluttonous as before.
“Alas,” it said to itself. “Perhaps this is nature’s way of teaching me not to be greedy and gluttonous anymore.”
From that day forward, the spider lived more peacefully and gratefully. It no longer spent its time seeking excessive food, but used its days to help its neighbors and better care for its father’s ancestral web.
And so it came to pass that all spiders thereafter bore this mark, a slender waist between body and belly as a reminder to all creatures that greed brings its own punishment. And in the kampungs of old, mothers would tell this tale to their children, saying, “See how even the clever spider learned that one cannot be in two places at once, and that contentment is worth more than all the feasts in the world.”
Thus ends the tale, as true as the cempaka’s sweet scent and as lasting as the coconut palm’s shade.