I dreamed of distilling a cure
from the venom of Bengali snakes—
a remedy for stroke,
so no life would fade
under the tyranny of clotted blood.
With that hope, I walked into the forest.
There, I saw three snakes
coiled tightly around a girl’s hand.
"Three will be enough,"I thought.
From their poison, I would craft a medicine,
bring honor to my country—
perhaps even a Nobel Prize in 2026.
But alas—
how fragile ambition can be.
The plan collapsed in an instant.
They were harmless,
venomless creatures.
And I returned,
spending the day in restless anger,
scratching at my disappointment.
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 7:29 PM UTC
I dreamed of distilling a cure
from the venom of Bengali snakes—
a remedy for stroke,
so no life would fade
under the tyranny of clotted blood.
With that hope, I walked into the forest.
There, I saw three snakes
coiled tightly around a girl’s hand.
"Three will be enough,"I thought.
From their poison, I would craft a medicine,
bring honor to my country—
perhaps even a Nobel Prize in 2026.
But alas—
how fragile ambition can be.
The plan collapsed in an instant.
They were harmless,
venomless creatures.
And I returned,
spending the day in restless anger,
scratching at my disappointment.