The Fire that burns into Smoke

They were burning something in my street corner. Dried leaves, Trash, Plastic covers, Newspapers,... The man behind the fire is a muffler-clad middle aged man. With a cigarette in his hand, he was looking at the fire with the pride of creator. Fire is a piece of modern art. It doesn't know rules.

The fire burns tall and upwards (Fire has never obeyed Newtons equations) spitting out flares. Its glow is not camouflaged by Sodium-vapor lamp. Fire, the mother of all constructive as well as destructive inventions by mankind, is standing in my street corner. It is one friend of mine with whom I can never dare to have a hug. It is fierce and has mercy on those who trespass its boundaries.

I have seen 'the fire', turning human-corpses to powder-ash in the banks of river Ganga at Varanasi. He is a destroyer, and in-front of him nothing else matters. I have seen 'the fire' in the metallurgical furnaces making out Industrial iron. I have seen him in happy moments in camp-fire. I have seen him in some accidents.

The Fire is my favorite of the five basic elements of nature. Invention of 'how to make fire' is one of the landmarks of human advancement. That holy moment made him superior over other Faunas. Even the most carnivorous'tic of animals still fear seeing the fire. Invention of fire allayed us from the fear of getting extincted in the survival-cycle.

Perhaps, Fire bypassed the evolution theory in making humans 'the strongest' albeit not the fittest.

'Fire service' is that name that we have given to put out fire. Even the most advanced of human construction techniques can't be complete without 'Fire exits'. You need to co-exist with this rude friend who lives on oxygen just like us.

Let there be light with some fire. It is a cold evening in Bangalore.