The lambent flickering flame pranced passionately, growing and shirking into the shadows; a forked tongue piercing into the chill of nightfall. It gently caressed the hot magenta melting, deforming wax that sluggishly dribbled down and the naked flame gyrated lavishly about the blackening, withering wick.
The flame, in all its fiery fury spit out little plumes and spirals of smoke and the little wispy clouds that billowed and fumed on my face, stirred and kindled the 'thoughtful bonfire'.
This was the scenario, just yesterday- a rerun of the evening, last week- in which we sat huddled around the teasing flame that danced at the candle's apex, throwing vibrant shadows across the table. The power had failed yet again and our entire compound swivelled to a standstill, being deprived of spark juice, better known as electricity.
The little men running through the cables, fuelled on Red Bull and Gatorade, had obviously gone on strike with pickets, burning effigies and the works. An upshot of the soaring economic/financial crisis no doubt. (Your Physics Professor was lying when she/he said that electricity whizzes through cables and wires as a result of the motion of disgruntled electrons that are rudely shook awoken from their restful slumber.)
While the little electricity-men were marching, punching the air with clenched fists, union flags and blaring banners, the compound was plunged into a void- a deep dark chasm of nothingness; dark, foreboding, ominous.
The street lights 'putt'ed off whilst the string of electric appliances that garland our houses slipped into coma, near death. The glittering, winking red, amber and green of traffic lights blended into a basic black. While the world beyond the secure parameters of the compound bustled with life and light, the compound stood in dead stillness.
A short circuit, perhaps. The second one this month. I sat there, my brow furrowed, a chemistry book propped open upon my lap. A horrific monthly test was to be detonated the next day, and I was least prepared.
While the rest of the family dispersed and took to ambling through the pitch black corridors of our abode, I sat there, listless and anxious; beads of perspiration and anxiety bejewelling my creased forehead.
My concentration strayed with my eyes and I sat there mesmerized by the flame, oblivious to the ghastly presence of my Chemistry text.
The flame licked my curiosity; This little blackout, which would probably stretch out for a complete rotation of the minute hand on the rotund face of the clock, had managed to bring our lives to a grinding halt!
It got me thinking. Does out lives really revolve, rather cling onto technology and material matter as ivy to a fence? Are we handicapped lest we are deprived of out mechanic toys? Are we nocturnal animals groping around blindly in the intensity of the sun's glare when we are unarmed by science and the pleasure of being surrounded by synthetic substance?
Alas! Methinks the answer is a blatant yes. Shame, human, hang your head down with it. We are too proud to except the fact that we have lost our traditional earthy roots. Our ego does not allow us to believe so.
How many times have you ever needed information and you decided to 'look it up on the Internet' rather than go out into the garden and find out first-hand? How many times have you marvelled at the scenic sights projected on the LCD screens of your 41" plasma televisions rather than pressing your face against the window and gaping at the teeming spectrum and beauty of nature?
We take pleasure in shopping, driving our cars much beyond the speed limit, violating the law, gazing and gawking at the big television screen, with drool oozing down our pathetically stupid chins, unblinkingly staring at the computer touch-screens.
Murder. Sheer Murder. Of Intellect, individuality and creativity. And most importantly, of life.
We are palling before the Material God, giving into his shallow offerings that fuel your greed and desire. You take pleasure in things of no significant, merit worthy value in the overall scheme of life. You care less of your fellow beings and more for the touch and feel of fabric and would kill another for that new car smell.
Our society is warped. Demented. Cruel.
Next time, you pick up a Gucci vintage hand-bag and eye it with lust. Next time you caress and embrace the glowing sleek exterior of an Aston Martin which seems to be revelling in its own glow. Think. Think again.
Does it really make you happy? Truly happy? Does it make your heart sing and make you feel good about yourself? Do you think it's going to make you a better person, intellectually and spiritually?
I don't think so.
The regular 21st century caveman cannot live without his material comforts, I agree. But there's that fine balance between sustenance and need and greed and pride.
Instead of going to the movies, take a walk and immerse yourself in the glorious vista nature offers. Spend precious moments; help out at animal shelters, make children happy, walk for charity, do a good deed, help that old crooked man, bent double over his walking cane, across the street. Do things that make you feel special.
Making others happy is its own reward. The joy of a grateful smile, an innocent, heartfelt thank you, a hug.
Material is not always what matters. There are better things in life that you're meant to find. It's like a treasure hunt and that little hike, with its ups and downs leads to those pieces of the puzzle. Finding them is a joy incomparable. And when the pieces fall into place, your life will glow with the aura of satisfaction and you will have been happy to have lived and made a difference.
So, remember as the French say:
L'argent ne fait pas le bon heure.
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