Everything I and my wife had built in the last fourteen years became ashes on a fateful day. This was the most devastating incident we had to face. It was a nightmare no one would wish to dream.
When I raced from Bajo town, second after hearing that my residence is on fire, I thought it must be a small fire in one of the rooms and could be controlled. As I throttled like a Chumacher race car, I called to one of the teachers. I told him to break the door and do something, to get some things out. “Sir, the smoke has filled the room, we can’t go in. The main room is blazing.” I could not believe it. I was merely less than 40 minutes away to town and the fire seem to have spread real fast.
“ The kitchen is also on fire.” He said. It seemed like the fear of gas explosion prevented people from breaking into the rooms! “Sir we are moving the car away. We broke the windowpane and lifted and pushed to safety.” I felt relieved about it. Only when I reached the spot I realized even the car could have been burnt away otherwise.
I accelerated on to over 80, dodging oncoming cars at a fiery speed. My sons at the rear seat held on strongly. “Karma....Drogen. Hold on tight.” I yelled. Even amidst the hope of retrieving and saving something and the adrenaline pumping, I could talk on my phone to people at the scene. I picked three to four calls from the scene. All I said was I was racing and, “Try break in and save things.”
I called my wife who was at Phuentsholing. I knew she will be shocked but I had to tell. As soon as she picked up, I realized someone informed her. She was crying. I was listening on car audio and my sons heard mother. “Mummy, don’t cry,” Karma, our eldest son comforted, with a broken voice.
As we crossed Mendregang, thick plumes of smoke could be seen. I was beginning to feel shattered. It told me the fire was real and big. “Karma, look at the smoke. Everything must be burnt.” I was still racing. A Land cruiser honked sharply and overtook me. I knew that was a police car.
“Hold on tight.” And I raced, even more, often screeching at the bends. Something inside me felt numb. There was a hope of doing something about it all.
It was getting dark, but the blazing inferno lighted up the school campus in its fiery arrogance. As I stopped near the scene of blazing fire, it took me by surprise. Our house was a blazing ball of golden flame, crackling furiously. Instantly I knew there was nothing I could do. I stood outside my car, drew fingers at my bosom, and made an offering of mendrel. I mumbled my prayers, ‘Sa zhi poe ki meto jugshing meto tram, rirab lingshi nyin dawai gyelpa di, sangye zhing du mikteo phulwa ya, drokuen nam dag zhing la chedpar sho.’ My tongue could barely recite the mantra towards the end.
This is impermanent, it’s just another illusion, another dream. I consoled myself. The thought of impermanence kept me standing strong. ‘When I had everything, it was never easy to give away.
I had clung on, even on my clothes and books for decades, some neither worn nor read again, only hoarding it. At that moment I felt I was freed of any ego. My ego shattered without anything to hold on. The helplessness at the sight of inferno, seem to momentarily release me from any pride and ego. I felt fearless and without hope.
I became just a spectator, like enjoying an inferno on a silver screen. “Stay in the car,” I told my sons and walked towards the house. There were so many people but everyone seemed helpless. Even the policemen could do nothing except douse the last part of fire from the fire truck hoses.
My teacher said, she and two men could break in from the children’s bedroom and retrieve a few blankets and suitcases. The suitcases had nothing much but they risked their lives to retrieve something to remember.
As the fire was put off, I had a stark realization that I was finally the poorest father to the two sons waiting in my car, and the car the only home.
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