Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Romancing the Fire

Category: Life

On a chilling January night, I enter my room in a hostel. Electric power has failed. No problem! I’ve got two candles to light the place up. But before anything, I rush to the corner to light the gas heater, or else my hands may break from my wrists with a crunch (two crunches, to be precise) and fall down to my frozen feet. The heater works wonders, making me feel cozy in a while as I sit to enjoy the last remain of fruit in my room. Sitting between fires—the heater and the candles—both close to me, I stretch my arm to get my pen and a paper; the aura of comfort in the room calling me, irresistibly, to pen down something. I start writing down my thoughts on paper, bewitched by the effect of light and heat inside the room while cold and darkness rule outside.

I think of the most befitting word to describe the whole scene (including me, of course). The one striking me as truly appropriate is ‘romance’. Oh yes, I am romancing my solitariness in the company of light and fire. And the thought gives wings to my imagination, taking me back to antiquity. I see a dark, chilling night that covers the wild nature of earth. In a lonely cave, a scantily dressed creature looks just like a man, though his posture and movements reflect the feel reminiscent of his quadrupedal ancestry. Sitting by a fire in the grave, this lonely creature has just inhaled its first breath of comfort after returning to his shelter from the hostile weather that envelops the whole of the observable world.

Now he has lit a fire from a spark created by hitting two stones against each other. As he relaxes by the side of heat and light, an aura of comfort blankets him. I can see he is feeling that abstract pleasure which thrilled me a while ago. He looks at the fire, the cave, and himself, and tries to think of a word that would capture the whole moment (including him, of course). The word that comes to his mind is something I don’t understand at first but from my own experience in my room, I am sure it is just some ancient synonym of ‘romance’. I try to focus my thinking on the word in his mind, striving to let my imagination carry me inside his thought.

Believe it or not, I get there as if by some artifice or magic. I feel what he feels and can read what he thinks. Thrilled with excitement, I grope for the word in his mind to see how closely it matches my ‘romance’. And I find it right there, lit like a candle in my room. Happily, I can read it just like I can read anything in my language. It is pretty different from my word of comfort… it is… GOD. 

Posted by Prometheus on 07/13 at 01:03 PM | Permalink
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