Fire-Hymn
by Keki N. Daruwalla
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A haunting poem exploring the spiritual relationship between the poet and the sacred element of fire, set against a Parsi (Zoroastrian) conflict over cremation. It opens on a riverside burning ghat at dusk, where burning wood erupts with pale phosphorescence and 'wandering ghost lights' terrify passers-by. Next morning the poet and his father see the fire's dying embers and its 'half-burnt fingers' and bone-stubs; the father remarks that 'the fire at times forgets its dead'. As a Zoroastrian, for whom fire is sacred and the dead are placed on the Tower of Silence, not cremated, the young poet is horrified by this 'fire's debauchery' and swears to save fire 'from the sin of forgetfulness'. Twenty years later his first-born child dies, and, with the nearest Tower of Silence a thousand miles away, he is forced to consign the child's body to the crematorium flames. The fire whispers 'You stand forgiven', but the broken poet clenches his fists and swears this time to save fire 'from the sin of forgiving'.
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Keki N. Daruwalla (b. 1937) is a prominent Indian-Anglian poet, short story writer and former Indian Police Service (IPS) officer, awarded the Sahitya Akademi Award in 1984. 'Fire-Hymn' is a deeply intense, haunting poem exploring the spiritual relationship between the poet and the sacred element of fire, set against the backdrop of a Parsi (Zoroastrian) burial conflict.
The ghostly scene of the burning ghat
The poem opens with a vivid, terrifying description of a riverside burning ghat at dusk. The burning piles of wood erupt with a pale, eerie light ('phosphorescence'), and 'wandering ghost lights' flicker in the darkness, terrifying passers-by, while the moonlight scatters among the dry bones.
The next morning the poet and his father stroll along the river bank and observe the dying embers losing their 'cruel redness' to grey ash. The fire has left several 'half-cooked limbs' and bone-stubs unburnt. The father points to these and says: 'You see those half-burnt fingers / And bone-stubs? The fire at times forgets its dead!'
The conflict of the Zoroastrian
This sight of unburnt limbs strikes the poet with horror and offends his religious sentiments. Daruwalla explains his identity: 'A Zoroastrian I, my child-fingers clenched / Into a little knot of pain.' According to Zoroastrian tradition, fire is a sacred deity, and bodies are not cremated but placed on the high Tower of Silence (Dakhma) to be consumed by birds of prey, since cremating a body is a desecration of the sacred fire.
Seeing the fire leave limbs half-burnt, the young poet views it as the 'fire's debauchery' (immoral neglect of duty) and makes a solemn vow: 'I swore to save fire / From the sin of forgetfulness.'
The consignment of the first-born
The narrative shifts forward twenty years. The poet faces a painful, tragic emergency: his first-born child dies. Because the nearest Zoroastrian Tower of Silence is a thousand miles away, he is forced by circumstances to violate his religious laws and consign his child's body to the flames of the crematorium.
The fire, remembering his past vow, seems to whisper to him at night: 'You stand forgiven.' But the poet's heart is broken, he feels he has compromised his faith. The poem ends with a second, fierce oath: standing before the smoking remains, broken yet rebellious, he clenches his fists and swears 'this time / To save it from the sin of forgiving', re-establishing his commitment to the absolute purity of the sacred fire.