Who Started The Fire?

My room is on fire

I can see the smoke rising

I can smell the burning cotton

I can’t remember a thing

Now I see an empty Chivas

And a few burnt out butts

A pile of torn pages and scattered leaves

Who started the fire?


Images flash through my mind 

Wait, let me think hard

I was strumming the G and D chords

In perfect rhythm, humming along

“Shelter from the Storm”

I saw her at the door. 

No, this can’t be.

She’s miles away.

A figment of my imagination.

My thoughts are interrupted.

I can feel the heat on the back of my neck.

The curtains are ablaze.

Who started the fire?


I was halfway through the Chivas

And sucking up the neat long burning roll

I grabbed my pad and a pen

And began to write.

Let me see what I wrote.

But why am I unable to move?

Too late. The papers are now lit up like a pyre.

Who started the fire?


I was talking to myself. 

Do you know how its like? Talking to yourself?

You may call it insanity

I call it therapy.

Have your ears bled, longing to hear a word that soothed?

Has your skin crawled, longing for a touch that healed?

Have your eyes dried, longing for that tear to be wiped?

I was talking to myself.

My voice comforting my soul.

Quoting words of Morrison and Dylan.

I feel my toe burning.

The bedsheet is now being devoured. 

My precious guitar is in flames.

Who started the fire?


The bottle was lying horizontal

There was shiny mirrory liquid on the floor

I caught a glimpse of myself in it

I gazed into my eyes

I lit up the lighter, and tried to burn my reflection.

What happened next? Why can’t I remember?

I am suffocating.

I am staring at the ceiling.

The fan is fanning the flames.

I can’t see a thing. All I see is fire.

Who started the fire?


My skin is melting. My blood is burning.

But why am I smiling?

And now I laugh. Loud.

Do you know what its like? Laughing in the face of death?

Have you  felt entrapped in the nothingness of blood and bones?

Have you tried flapping your hands in a desperation to fly?

Have you loved someone more than your life?

You may call it death

I call it liberation.

I started the fire.




I am often troubled by the phenomenon of suicide. I always feel it is the biggest act of cowardice and escapism. However, I tried to look onto the other side of the coin, and imagined this scene where a guy was taking his life, and what went through his mind. This, in no way, means I am endorsing it. This is purely a piece of imagination and looking at things from a different perspective.


13 thoughts on “Who Started The Fire?

  1. Manu Reddy says:

    you will love this :


    Life is but a dream of death and life is about waking up from this nightmare.”Will to live” and “will to liberation or will to NIRVANA or freedom” are the two conflicting instincts in a man. “Will to live” is about clinging on to the ephemeral things like money, name, fame, 36-24-36 etc, “Will to liberation” is about finding the one unchangeable entity in this life of change, the one LIFE in this world of DEATH, finding our real-immortal self!

    “Love, truth and unselfishness are not merely moral figures of speech, but they form our highest ideal, because in them lies such a manifestation of power.” – S.V.

    We are constituted in such a way or rather the plan of existence is such that the “will to liberation or Nirvana” is infinitely more than “Will to live”, there is infinite manifestation of power in “Will to liberation” and the way to manifest this power is LOVE and more LOVE, of course its not the worldly understanding of love which is full of sentimentality and mindless melodrama!

    And dude, the last blogpost of mine deals with the same theme of death, lemme know what you think,


  2. Great insight.. Wonderful dada.

  3. Saahil Parekh says:

    nice composition! i like the flow in which you’ve attempted this. 🙂

  4. Nitesh says:

    Brilliant dude. Absolutely Brilliant.

  5. cyril says:

    it was fine till the point when you felt the need to explain your piece at the end. 🙂

    • akshay says:

      Thanks mate! though the explanation was not required, there were two reasons.
      1. I do not endorse the idea.
      2. I didn’t want my family and friends to think I am suicidal 😛

  6. Pulkit says:

    Very good writing.

  7. Ankur Gupta says:

    “and this is only about the real feelings I felt about a person, suffocation after that..” Akshay’s first words after I told him I read it.

    The feelings never die.. they dont burn in flames and then there are always ghosts that haunt us in and out, we deal with it and call it my “shit”. Thats where the fire within us gives that final strength to get up and pull out the ‘extinguisher’…
    move on and try to be happy…Whatever is ur issue! this what got from your fictional description of some part of youself. :)) i need not say tht the poem was great… bt it was . 😛

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