It’s a sunny afternoon but the weather’s turned cold. So I am sitting at my computer, with all the windows closed. In the distance, I can hear the sound of a fire-engine. Because I live close to a major thoroughfare, I hear sirens quite often. The police are most common, with ambulances and fire-engines tying for second place.

On this particular occasion, the harsh, honking wail of the fire-truck seems a little more persistent than usual. It is, by intention, a very jarring sound, a cross between a diesel generator and a bassoon. In the US, the fire crews go out whenever there’s someone or something in need of rescue, not just for fires. Across the street from where I live, for instance, there are regular emergencies involving naughty children who need rescuing because they’ve locked themselves into the attic of their two-storey home.

I can still hear the siren however, so I go to the kitchen to take a look. Yow! The fire-truck is IN THE DRIVEWAY! With the windows closed, all sounds from the outside world are muffled. I wonder who is stuck in the attic and dash to my front door. It never occurs to me that there’s actually a fire in progress. So when I open the door I’m astounded to see thick white smoke billowing out of Pete’s front door. Half a dozen giants wearing blue fire-retardant suits complete with visors and bright yellow helmets are blocking the tiny hallway. It’s like being in a science fiction movie. And I’m the resident alien, haha!

Pete’s also in the hallway. He has a bemused expression on his face. He sees me and says, “The neighbours called the fire department!” Just then, one of the giants notices me standing in my doorway and yells, “Ma’am! Stay AWAY from the SMOKE and SHUT THE DOOR!” I leap back with a twang. Giants in blue suits have that effect on me.

I’ve always been told these old wooden buildings can burn to the ground in a matter of minutes. I wonder whether to pack an overnight case. Or maybe just grab my passport and some money? What about the computer? iPad? Cellphone? And oh heavens, all the chargers. Just then there is a hammering at the door. One of the giants is standing outside, festooned in heavy-duty electric cable. “Uhh … Ma’am? We need to run a power-line for the ventilator. Where’s the nearest plug point?” In the kitchen. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he says, most politely as he connects the wire.

In half an hour the emergency is over. One of the departing giants knocks on my door to retrieve the cable and another one informs me that I’m free to move in and out of the house once more. Pete claims there was no emergency at all. “I fell asleep with something on the stove! It caught fire, but I had it under control the whole time. We didn’t need the fire department. You should see the mess they made of my kitchen!”

The fire-truck parps and wails as it backs out of the driveway.

(Manjula Padmanabhan, author and artist, tells us tales of her parallel life in Elsewhere, US, in this fortnightly series)

>marginalien.blogspot.in

Related Topics