Tempered by fire; will not wilt under the sun

 Mathews was watching a live India-Pakistan match on TV when the power went off. It was just him and his older sister at home and it was already past dinner time. The hall was dark and he was never fond of being in the dark alone. He walked over to the wooden cupboard in the hallway  that was a storage space for all daily paraphernalia from staplers to sketch pens. He scavenged the big box with all the house essentials from band aids to 50 paisa coins and found a thin white wax candle along with the capless Reynold and cello pens. He then made his way to the kitchen and found a match box with just one  match stick left. He realized there was no room for error here. With extreme focus and meticulous hand eye coordination he  carefully lit the match stick, cupped his left hand to protect the flame  and  flawlessly transferred the yellow flame to the black candle wick. He was quite proud of himself; he had managed to stay calm in the face of adversity and accomplished his goal. Now he needed to find a candle stand. Holding the candle in one hand; he went back to the wooden cupboard and was a bit disappointed that there was no candle stand in there. He stared ahead into the emptiness looking for answers  and saw the big black box with the blank screen that he has been entertaining him for last several hours before power went off. This was where his neurons failed him. He was exhausted lighting the candle and the molten  wax had already begun to drip down and mercilessly coat his  fingers. He congratulated himself for finding the perfect impromptu candle stand. He thrust the candle on top of the television and slouched back on the couch to relax. He felt a bit bored after a while and thought he should go upstairs to check on his sister. He went to her room upstairs and settled himself on the wooden rocking chair. As he was updating her on the latest developments in 20-20 world cup series, the power came back. He was about to head back downstairs when he saw the latest edition of Balarama on her study table. His sister had skillfully smuggled it upstairs  early morning so she could  peacefully could read it before her pesky siblings laid hands on it. Mathews returned to his rocking chair again  to devour the Balarama following the systematic order that he had developed through years-  comics first followed by short stories without pictures and finally world trivia meant to improve general knowledge. He skimmed through the pages to find his favorite comic piece; Sutran and Sheru. He then went on to read the rest of the comics Mayavi and Kapish when his sister asked him if he wanted to have Maggi Noodles aka did he want to prepare food for both of them? Both of them finally decided to head  downstairs to the kitchen  to cook noodles together.  They realized something wasn't right when the burnt smell stimulated their olfactory receptors. Their vision was blurred as the stairway was blanketed in clouds of white smoke. The living room looked haunted as the white ceiling  was covered in black splotches of soot. The rectangular black television was now just a big black charred molten lump  bellowing fire. As the two of them were synthesizing all that was happening around them, Amma and Papa returned from their day trip to find the house they had worked hard to build in over two decades almost set to fire. Papa followed his usual carrot and stick approach in teaching Mathews the dangers from using a television as a candle stand. But is arson committed from stupidity really a crime?