Since I have been living near Bhaktapur, fire station for a decade and a half, I am disturbed by the terrible sound of the wind turbine during the fire outbreak. As I look at the fires, coupled with the alarming estimates of the loss of life and air pollution and rising global temperatures, I begin to grumble even more at human negligence.

With the use of electricity and gas, fire is considered a man-made disaster, except for the analysis that such incidents are increasing. A careless and careless accident is an accident. But cases of deliberate misuse of fire have been criticized around the world. The mind and brain of the Nepali people must still be clouded by the smoke left by the incident where a journalist was burnt to ashes in the arson of the royalist movement. The scene of self-immolation in front of the Parliament building because of 'no choice' due to professional harassment and anger towards the state is not old. As a book lover, I was hurt when Thamel's bookstore 'Pilgrims' burned down. I remember an even older case, two decades ago, there was an interesting practice of 'movement' by students in the universities of Nepal. At that time, I was also studying in the university, so I was sad about the behavior of my colleagues. I remember that the writers at that time debated very strongly about the arson in universities. 

We have been playing with fire time and again in history, forgetting that man has established his dominance over other creatures on earth with the help of fire, which has been serving man since ancient times. Such big accidents have happened because of not knowing how to manage the fire. Whenever I remembered the people who used fire to destroy, then I used to see a child in the cold but smoky hole of my mind.

I was none other than that child who wanted to make the evenings of the house warm and bright by extinguishing the fire. Remembering that the practice of asking for fire disappeared with the old black and white times, feels like a monochromatic legend. When we see the terrible scenes of misused fire in the city, we remember the exercises we did in village life to prevent fire. 

The name of the village where I grew up was Boligaon. Even today, the name of the village is the same. But the nature of the village has changed. At that time the people of the village were like members of the same family. Just as there is love and intimacy between family members, there is bickering, snorting, impetuousness and animosity, so in my village there was support, cooperation and a little bit of rivalry between the neighbors. If I turn the pages of my childhood memories, I will go to the neighborhood to ask for fire in the evening, now I feel a strong love for myself.

Because father often stays outside the house due to work, he used to wake up his mother and sister in the evening, tending to grass, fields, barns, cattle, etc. I was not so concerned about the maintenance of the house. My sister was very young. In the late evening, as soon as I put a heavy weight on the dill in the yard, my mother would shout - 'Isn't there a fire in the house yet?' Then I would die. Now whose house should I go to take fire?

It was no small trouble for us to light the fire. Thick wood was needed for the fire. Daura was one of those who checked the richness of the houses that stood undulating in the waves of poverty. It was confirmed by local practice that the firewood of gurans, banj, khasru, oak etc. lasts for a long time. However, these trees had to be taken from the lake itself. For that, 'jana' was needed to work at home. In the yard of the house where there was a 'jana' who reached the height of his arms, one could see the firewood piled up in the yard, while in the house of the others, the stove had to be lit by the stove towards the garden. Aga seeds could be saved under the ashes for the next evening in a house with a durable firewood cover. Otherwise it would have been just a pile of flying ashes, Agena. Fire protection was really difficult at that time, as not everyone had the financial ability to maintain a fire. And it was difficult to gather firewood in one stroke of a thorn. For that, either kerosene or corn husks were needed. It took four hours to go to the market where kerosene was found. In the fields, even for smoking tobacco, no one had a pen in their pocket, the idea of ​​a lighter was a foreign thing. One could understand that Dhumpanaka Ammali is working there after seeing the dried pultu or dried cow dung smoldering on the stones of the bari. It was even more important to protect the fire in the shed, garden or house during the storm. On the one hand, the fear that the fire will be extinguished, on the other hand, the fear that the fire will be extinguished.

When my mother used to ask me to ask for fire in the Vallo-Pallo house, then I wanted to transfer the responsibility to my sister as much as possible. However, my sister could not be with me every day. Sometimes I thought, when I went to ask for fire, I would go upstairs to the courtyard for a walk. Again, sometimes I thought, I should make my mother happy by lighting a fire in the stove. It would have been long enough to bring the fire. It seems that the meaning of Diure is 'give me fire'. Carrying this pot and climbing the neighbor's wall, my steps and face would be so heavy that it was as if I was a 'cursed' beggar. An old crushed plate was used when a durable one could not be found. However, when the plate was heated quickly and the fire was brought to the house, it was a surprise to hold the ear by hand. When going to ask for fire, the first thing to do was to choose a house that would not spoil the face. Not all neighbors were always mean or mean. They behaved according to their 'mood'. Perhaps he was treated a little carelessly as a child? Sometimes they used to fill up the falling coals with laughter, sometimes they thought it difficult to put out the fire. The fire that was about to be extinguished was sometimes extinguished before it reached its peak. However, it was hard to see if it would work. If it was not lit, it would be difficult to go to the same house again and again and then go to another house to ask for fire. What would be more difficult if the house of the first time saw it while returning with the fire for the second time? He was afraid that his name would be registered in Manuwa, which did not even have the method of lighting a fire. However, especially they used to ask for fire from other people's houses and bring it. 

From one house to another house and from one house to another house, fire was exchanged throughout the village. There were three main reasons for this: one- there is no salai and kerosene in the house, two- saving the remaining salai forks, three- saving both time and labor when lighting the stove by bringing fire coals from the neighborhood instead of blowing fire and blowing the ringta to make the veins of the neck and conchat swell by gathering sarjam.  To break the story, the tradition of asking for fire had connected the neighborhood to each other. Sarsahayog was also going on. Not only did he know what was growing in the neighborhood, sweet-meat vegetables were also available sometimes. When I remember now, it seems that at that time, the house in which the seeds of fire were saved, that house would have killed the neighbors unannounced and psychologically. It was probably practical to have a polite speech towards a regular source of fire. Fire seems to be the main thing that binds our neighborhood together. To be able to save fire means having a number of firewood in the house, having a majority of strong members, cooking three-four chakas daily, organizing the daily life, farming and having goods, that is, the house was complete.

When the fire came to Agena from the neighborhood, the red light in the house gradually increased its volume. And, the lamp was lit by burning the root of the stove. 

After that, a rhythmic conversation started between the members inside the house. Otherwise, it was not known whether they were afraid of the dark or angry with each other.

If the fire did not burn quickly and covered itself with smoke, the badge of 'Dobato Mutaha' would be found. The tribal knowledge system of keeping the roads and rivers clean must have developed a belief system that smoke chases those who trample on the road. In addition to skill and manners, knowledge of firewood selection was also required to light the fire. A branch of a tree called 'Vyanglo' in the local language fell on a strong branch, and continuous sparks of fire were scattered in three directions like ammunition from a gun. Before, we had to fight against the fire, now we had to fight against it. Some wood was so hard that it was difficult to put out the fire. Once such a hard coal fell on my feet from a tobacco-pipe. That wet coal letter is still etched on my right leg. Being very young, I have no memory of the incident - whether it happened at home or in a barn. Our shed was at the top of the village. Due to the attraction of milk and honey, I also stayed with my parents in the barn from time to time. The only thing that warmed, lighted, and protected the doorless shed at night was a soft blanket burning in the morning. When we had a fire, we felt that we had reliable fire in our barn. People who come to the shed ask for fire as if fire is money. And, with the exchange of fire and the deep circle of tobacco, intimate chatter was prolonged. 

The Griselli myth of Prometheus stealing fire from heaven had not reached my village. The community that asked for fire had no idea about stealing. Another special thing - not only in the Gurung community, Chula or Agena has a great cultural importance in the tribal community. Chulo is the cultural center that unifies clan, brotherhood and society. Partitioning was called separation of the hearth. From this 'holy' center, we used to go to Ronda to stay. Happiness and sadness were shared there. From knowledge to planning was woven there. 

was a dance. There was also love. Sometimes in the morning there was a rumor in the village that last night so-and-so ran away by lighting a lamp. After a few days, the couple would return with Diyalo and get married properly. I would go after the duck to hunt paha in the dark river after lighting the fire on the same day. Perhaps Ba also needed a companion during the night. There was also a desire to transfer skills, Bako. After the

, some technology started entering the village instead of the light coming from Agena. Torchlight was gradually used to search for sight. However, when walking towards Kholakholsi at night, they used to walk with a small lamp or lamp so that 'ghosts' would not come. The lantern started to light slowly in 'karje' like Chhevar, Bihe, Marauparau. The joy of sitting and eating bhatre in the light of 'petrol mess' is indescribable. But people felt their old rhythmic warmth return when they gathered in the corner of the garden on winter nights and gossiped around the agena, where the coals were puffed up. They used to come around in the night shaking their eggs. 

Tuki gradually grew in the village. As the burning of salai and kerosene increased, the number of fires in the neighborhood also decreased. As the houses became self-sufficient in fire, a firefighter like me felt a sense of relief. And, gradually, the time came to light that little beggar's book and read till midnight in Bardli. Almost three decades ago, after the electric light came to the village, the fire-seeker fell into the habit of reading literature and listening to music in the flickering light. After the story of two friends of his own generation being swallowed up by the invisibly flowing current in the wire, the era of asking for fire for the beggar is not base or not. However, to keep the sentiments in a fist and say - those who did not know the nature of electricity that appeared recently were painful accidents.