Fire.

Fire.
I have my own bittersweet story with the fire.
Sometimes its the only scary thing that tears me down to nothing.
Sometimes i feel it inside, the rage, the burn and the most violated form of ME.
Fire is a lot many things to a lot of people.
The sacred fire.
The burn-it-all fire.
The destruction fire.
The heat-me-up fire.
And when i say that i was scared of it all, believe me that it was step-just-before-death-scary to me.

Until, i saw Lohri, last year.
It was a beautiful thing.
First time did i realise that fire could be that enlightening with joy.
The offerings and the music.
The feast and the beauty.
All surrounding this mighty burn.
I thought then, may be fire could be a happy thing too.
Looking at the joy of people when it burned and the dramas it created.
I was happily served the beauty of fire in a small heavenly feel of a festival.
And i could have lived with that idea.
But nature always has some nice lessons to teach, with the very essence of it.

A year has passed now.
and here i am, again.
Burning the mighty fire.
Offerings & prayers.
feast & beauty.
The difference is, i sit alone.

Slowly, as i offered the sweet and offerings.
Thoughts kept building alongside.
Watching the woods burn is some kind of relief too.
Its warm.
It feels like you are burning an old little you, The-You that you need no more.

Watching the flames and amidst that..
Flash of moments about all the times gone.
All the moments lived around this fire.
I could remember the joy, dance and enigma happening around it.
And the irony it had with the present.
Today its just me and the burns.

People light fire.
They find joy in it.
Winter and bornfire.
Sing and dance along.
The light, the warmth, the beauty serves all the purpose.

But as time goes on.. The woods die.
They have been burning for long and now, finally desiccating.
And as the fire starts slowing down, people start walking back home.

Relationship is a lot more like fire.
Hot and mighty when the fire is in full swing.
Cold and distant, when the woods start dying.

And this time, when i was sitting around it for a long long time.
I could feel it.
The rage rising. The rage slowing.
The effort in lighting it up.
The effect of going cold.
Left all alone to the fire, when the leftover little wood pieces were burning its lasts.

It hit me. The theory about fire.
Everyone is there when the woods burn in haste.
Everyone surrounds and happiness prevails when its lighting.
Once the flames take a toll..
Slow and steady, everyone walks off.
You are left aLone.
With small little pieces of existence and red dark ashes.
The darkness and the growing coldness.
Lamenting and weeping in dark.
Feeling the burns.
Remembering the joy you gave.
The Moments gone by, and the pain it caused.

For a second, u think, if you could burn again. To call them all back.
But you are left no more.

That's life. That's relationship.
That's the fire.
Everything is connected.

Beautifully consumed. Harshly left.

Joy in haste. Lament at leisure.

Mighty in hotness. Cold at loss.

Fire.
A lot like Life.

-Nisha Garg