It is actually ironic that Alka is my name. In Indian, it means "a lock of golden hair." I can only laugh at my parent's decision in naming me this. All of my wigs make my name the most ironic thing you could imagine. I have no hair, and probably won't have any for my whole life.
It all started, well, at home. I was home alone. I lit some candles and decided to relax and practice some yoga in the living room. Pushing all of the furniture out of the way, I prepared for my relaxation by piling candles everywhere I could fit them. After producing the huge firetrap, I got out my yoga book and started the maneuvers.
As I look back I realize I was stupid. It was probably my blonde hair. Anyway, I was trying out a new move, which required me to balance on one foot. Me being Miss Uncoordinated herself, lost my balance and fell. My beautiful blonde hair landed on top of the candles along with the back of my head. Flames shot up from my head and torched my whole scalp. I popped up with the shot of pain on my cranium. I tried choking the fire by pulling my shirt on top of it but it was no help. Screaming and crying, I hurdled over the furniture and sprinted to the kitchen sink. There was a tub of dirty dishwater sitting there with pieces of food floating in it. I dunked my burning head into it as you might do if you were bobbing for apples. The fire sizzled out and I pulled my head from the smelly, brown water.
The water was the least of my concerns at this point. The pain from the burn was paralyzing. I ran to the phone and dialed 9-1-1. I told the man at the other end that my head was on fire. I was sure I had at least third degree burns. He told me to sit tight and not to touch my scalp. I then hung up the phone, franticly waiting for the ambulance to show up. I walked in to the living room to put out the candles. The pain was starting to subside when I walked past it; the mirror. I had to do a double take before I realized it was I.
