6 IX 2008
It is said that we the Chinese have a special affinity with fire, which is responsible for a number of things to our delight, or, our dismay. About its “creation” we have a Prometheus story of sorts, a typical sage king with name directly translating into “fire creator” in mythical times; yet it is in its typical literary reference that fire become something more devastating. “Qin fire”, then, became a taboo in the mouth of the literati, blamed for the loss of texts, orthodoxy, and authenticity, a symbol of “legalist” oppression, indeed, a token of sacrifice for the price of unification and standardization. Of course, sometimes fire becomes a hindrance to just that, as it burned Cao Cao’s armada in a site made famous by rhapsodies of a disappointed Song poet, and now by a recent motion picture cut in two with almost no real connection to its title in the first one and promises of a mediocre sequel. Ah, of course we are forgetting the fireworks, the gunpowder, and a number of things that bursts from one, to two, to three, to myriad things that suit our taste. Never mind that, apparently it is also a carrier between this world and the next, a modern daimonion of sorts, to bring–and may God bring peace to the spirits–fortune and prosperity to our deceased relatives in the other world. “A five billion Yuan underworld bill for Mahjong? Some more yellow paper for the bank?”–No thanks. We won’t even let the deceased rest in peace. Confucius perhaps said something along the lines of treating the deceased as if we are treating the living, hence it seems only nature that fire shall carry so divine a task as bringing money in a time and age when we hosted a bacchanalia to celebrate the number “eight”, a phonetic synonymous to “making money”, and at the same time a frequent appearance on the Mahjong table. Well, mushallah! We might as well let the “Qin fire” burn again.
