She gets the garden in front of the house raked and swept, building a huge pile of dry litter, leaves and twigs in the corner of the compound. She then ignites the heap, which, roars and crackles, spewing out a plume of black acrid smoke. Fire fascinates me, and I squat beside the leaping tongues of flame, stoking the fire, triggering an explosion of sparks. I sat till it became dark, and the once spirited flame, died down to a whimper, with glowing embers, that one a while, with a passing draft, tried to revive itself.

The next morning as I left for work, I saw a dead spread of ash, where once breathed a dragon. Fire has always attracted man: ever since the early bipeds discovered that beyond the all destructive force unleashed by agni, there was a good side to the element, and when that was controlled and channeled, he and his ilk could benefit. With these thoughts flitting across mind’s eye – I occupied myself at work, my mind replaying the dance of flames. As I said earlier, the primal energy and animation of a live fire, is riveting. While I am no pyromaniac, I have often accidentally singed, scarred or scalded myself, but am no wiser. I have sat for hours, during my annual breaks from work, in camp tents or tea estate slopes, sat till the damp night chill penetrated to my bones, glued to the sight of wild forest fires that visit upon the western ghat forests during summer.

My reverie is interrupted, the telephone rings shrilly. ‘Can you come home please, now. Yes, yes right now’ Alarmed at the urgency and tone in her voice, I returned in a frenzy. Standing at my gate were two policemen. One was obviously an officer of some stature, and the other, his underling.  I soon gathered that the visit had been prompted by a complaint against me by my neighbor, a cantankerous crotchety old lady – the gist of the grouse being that I , through purpose and design was daily burning litter close to her window, endangering her health and well being. And didn’t the doctor know that carbon and smoke were carcinogens?

I assured the cops I had no such malicious intents, and that no fire would ever again be ignited here. The men in khaki left after conveying the information gleaned to the neighbor, who preened herself, and shut the window in a huff. Of course the fire in the compound was just another facet of the ongoing war between the two ladies, one resident and the other just across the wall. For months it was cold war, then of late hostilities appeared to become more overt. From just icy glares, it had descended to mud-slinging and smear campaign. What riled the ladies, I could not fathom, but it has been my observation that no two women make friendly neighbors. Why should educated, sensitive, rational and sane women suddenly behave like cats, asserting territorial rights and declaring air space violation, incursion, annexation, theft – the terminology of war dominates.

The woman at home of course didn’t take too kindly to my quiet acceptance of guilt at the frivolous charge. She fumed and spluttered, a fire without flames for three full days. All was silent and serene for the next two days, when, one evening a gentle tap on my shoulders alerted me to a roaring fire being stoked by the lady next door. I saw her standing, arms akimbo, much like a sumo wrestler, daring not just the elemental power of the fire, but anyone else to interfere.  “Go tell her the smokes bugging you, tell her you are suffocating and please don’t forget to tell her that maybe she’s forgetting something – smoke causes cancer” Since counsel and sage advice has no place or effect in inflammatory (pardon the pun) situations like these – I walked over to the Berlin Wall, and parroted the words I was tutored to deliver.

“Cancer? You are afraid of cancer – well well! you’re a doc aren’t you? Unlike me, you can detect the signs and symptoms of cancer and can detect it; but I, who am I, just a simple old woman who will never know when the disease gets and fells me – so doc, don’t you sermon on carcinogens – that’s my zone – so stay in, and shut your window”

The conversation was being overheard by alert ears that stayed glued to the window, and no sooner did I return, I heard the telephone being put to much use, the cop was one number being dialed.

I sat back and thought hard. I still couldn’t figure out what was between these two. Why such venom, ferocity and animosity. I till today haven’t understood women and their contrived logic. Suffice to add, the war continued till we vacated the place. And if it is of any interest to readers, I no more enjoy and derive juvenile delight in sitting beside fires. The only fire I light is to trigger my cigarette tip into life. Through the wisps of nicotine engendered smoke, I wonder when we will grow up and evolve, as men and women, as human beings.