A Moment of Madness
It was Arvind's birthday. In the afternoon there would be a cake and a party, but it would be like other birthdays, and Arvind was eleven. So in the morning, he collected his friends, Jimmy and Paudeni, and they set off to the forest that lay on the hillside in a huge half-moon behind the village.
When they reached the first few trees they stopped, listening to the sounds of the birds and searching for the rare striped butterflies that Arvind's uncle had told them about. They cried out to test the echo and then became savages, rushing carelessly into the forest and battering the undergrowth with sticks.
Eventually they reached a clearing. Jimmy said he was hungry and they started to devour the birthday food they had brought. Arvind pulled out a packet from his bag. "Look," he said, "I've brought some chicken. We'll make a fire and cook it." He pulled out some matches. "Get some sticks, Jimmy. Make a big pile. Everything's dry; it'll burn like crazy."
Paudeni looked worried. "My Mum says never ever start a fire in a forest, specially this year because it hasn't rained and because of the winds. She says you don't know what fire can do until you've experienced it. She says people who know always dig a big circle round a fire because it can't burn through the soil. She says – "
"Rubbish, there's no danger," interrupted Arvind, with the authority of a boy on his eleventh birthday. "I know what I'm doing." Jimmy returned carrying a great armful of sticks and made a castle out of them. Arvind struck a match and the fire was alive.
His satisfaction was short-lived. The dry wood exploded into a sheet of threatening flame and, from nowhere, a breeze began to blow. The children watched, horrified, as the fire spread like scuttling mice into the surrounding undergrowth. They never realised that everything was tinder dry. They had never seen how quickly a fire could