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When God Said, “Let There Be Light,” and We Said, “Sure, Pass the Matchbox”


It all started one calm evening when I decided to light the lamp at home. Nothing fancy, just the usual ritual my mother performs every day. I poured the oil, fixed the wick, struck a match, and there it was, that tiny flame dancing like it had just got Wi-Fi after a long outage. I stopped and stared at it for a moment. Out of all the five elements we talk about, earth, water, air, fire and sky, it is always fire that we end up using in worship. You can’t really focus on air, it disappears. Water won’t stay still, the sky is too big and the earth is too quiet. But fire, oh fire, it is small enough to sit in your hand and yet dramatic enough to make you feel like you are doing something divine. That’s when it struck me, maybe humanity and fire have been old friends, the kind that cause a bit of chaos together but still get invited to every party.

Growing up, lighting the evening lamp wasn’t optional in our house. Amma ran it like a sacred schedule. The moment she lit the kuthu vilakku, the whole room changed. The air felt calmer, the sound softer, and somehow everything just paused. Back then, I didn’t think much of it. I was usually more focused on what was for dinner. But these days, after hours of staring at Selenium test cases and watching scripts fail dramatically, lighting that same lamp feels very different. It has become less of a ritual and more like a mental detox. The little flame somehow absorbs all the noise inside your head and returns a few seconds of peace.

When you really look at the flame, it is actually quite inspiring. The way it stands tall, the way it moves freely but never loses shape, it teaches you something without saying a word. The wick gives itself up to create light, just quietly doing its job. It is basically the perfect project manager, calm, efficient, and glowing through chaos.

Once I started thinking about it, I realized fire is the true celebrity among the elements. In Hinduism, Agni is the messenger between us and the divine. Every prayer and every homam ends with Swaha, which basically means, “Over to you, boss.” In Buddhism, butter lamps burn quietly, spreading light and clarity. In Christianity, churches glow with candles, and the Paschal candle during Easter stands for Christ, the light that conquers darkness. In Islam, even though open flames are not used in prayer, the Quran says, “Allah is the Light of the heavens and the earth,” showing that light itself is divine. Zoroastrians treat fire like royalty, keeping it burning constantly in temples, the original always-on service. And among Native American traditions, the sacred fire becomes the heart of the community, where prayers and stories flow together.

Everywhere you look, fire shows up, connecting people to God and to each other. Maybe that is why it still touches me deeply. My work revolves around invisible things, test data, scripts, automation, all happening in digital spaces. But when I light a lamp at the end of the day, it feels real. The flame reminds me to stay steady but flexible, to burn bright without burning out, and to glow without showing off. Every time I light that wick, I feel connected to generations before me who did the same thing, not because they were told to, but because something about that small flame made them feel closer to something greater.

Maybe that is why, even today, people light lamps, candles or torches during prayer, remembrance, or celebration. Fire is the only element that truly meets you halfway. It is wild, but it is willing to stay. You cannot hold it, but you can sit with it. And so now, when I light the lamp at home, whether it is before prayer or just to feel calm, I take a moment to really look at it. Because that tiny flame is not just light. It is attention, it is offering, it is connection, it is therapy, it is life burning right in front of you, quietly reminding you that sometimes, the simplest rituals hold the deepest peace.

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