Fire in the sky

Dogs are afraid of it. Cats seem indifferent to it. But down by the banks of the Charles River, hundreds of excited spectators trickle down the busy streets as the sun sets on yet another sweltering Boston summer evening. It’s Fourth of July and people are here for the fireworks.

The exo-thermic reaction, that results in bursts of heat and flashes of dazzling lights, followed by the explosions felt in ribcages. And the sweet stench of Sulphur that lingers, a discovery for which we are forever indebted to the early Chinese, draws the old, the young, the tourist, the natives and everyone to the simpler yet wonderous times of our childhood that has long since passed.

“I love it!” said Tanna Ruegamer, a dance instructor from Quincy, MA. “Fireworks are how I remember my family. Back in the 80’s the Native American school where my father worked, as a superintent, gifted him a Tipi. So, as kids, every year we spent the eve of the American independence huddled in the little hut in our backyard, watching the buried pig bake in the ground all night.” The gathering of family and friends for the big feast the next day, followed by the grand display of fireworks which “truckers on the highway stopped to watch,” are the days this girl from Sidney, Montana, “misses”. “It was our Montana Luau,” she recollects as she sits on the tarred trail of the Esplanade, attempting to capture the spider-like brocade that lights the sky.

After the American revolution, before pyrotechnics such as this became synonymic with Fourth of July celebrations, 15th Century Europeans used them to mark important religious and public occasions. This, they later took with them to the rest of the world.

Frank Ceballos, who grew up in the fun-filled remote corners of Lima, quietly recollects the childhood he left behind when his parents moved to Rhode Island almost 5o years ago. “We only celebrated Christmas and New Year’s with Fireworks.” After a traditional meal with the family, the kids in the neighborhood made a huge doll or muñeco out of rags, often collected from the neighborhood to set a ceremonious fire,” a decade old tradition that marks the end of winter and the onset of spring in Peru. “It was a communal event! People stood out their doors and offered old clothes, fruits, chickens and all sorts of stuff for the celebrations. Once the friendly cop, known to every child in town, fired a commemorative shot in the sky, the doll was set on fire and out came the fireworks,” says the human resource specialist, another Quincy resident as he manages to find a steady ground to watch the unravelling of the enormous bursts of chrysanthemums over the calm river.

This early tradition of pyrotechnics that falls on July 26 of every year per the Mayan Calendar was also observed during early March or late February period of the Gregorian Calendar in the far corners of Karnataka (India) as Kamana Habba.

“As a spectacle, it [fireworks] has beauty and drama. As a metaphor, it is power which inspires, impresses and yet comforts with its elegance,” says Dilip Hari another purveyor of fine fireworks display. The tradition that started with young boys like him going around houses gathering firewood for a large town bonfire, singing the funny folklore, is reminiscent to this native Bangalorean’s childhood, celebrating festivals like Holi and Diwali when the city transcended towards the sky. Far from Boston’s Esplanade as he sits in the quiet town of Bellefonte, PA, looking up in awe at the last of the giant golden willow trees celebrate - the independence of this immigrant land - to the perfectly choregraphed music one last time before disappearing into a smoky, yellow trail of nothingness, his unperturbed cat gracefully sits, still blissfully oblivious to our human fascinations gently licking her paws, preparing for the night.

-Manasa Joshyam