Bye Bye River

I was born by a confluence of two individuals, whose roots belonged to two small hamlets on the either sides of a river. This was a pure co-incidence that they two met and got married. None of plots or conspiracies were planned to arrange this amalgamation of these two individuals. Now, being born to them, my roots too belong to these hamlets and my inheritance distributed amongst the two ends of the river.
Years have passed after the incident took place. I have grown up to a complete human being (with some inadequencies regarding intelligence of course) and have taken up the responsibility over from my parents of visiting these hamlets at a regular basis, feeling the emotional pull from my origins in these two places, crossing the river each time travelling from one home to other.
I’ve crossed the river over a hundred times from the moment I was able to intake and understand the comings and goings of the world. Each summer the river marked a milestone in my growth. Every time I crossed the river in the scorching heat of summer, realization struck me that I was another year and consequently an academic year older. From dipping my little finger into it’s rippled waters to dipping my entire self in it’s chilled waters along with my drooling sweat streams. It taught me to involve in sensuous affairs with danger, swimming in it’s martial embrace.
On her belly, I learnt that a fish is a life of a fisherman, and that he loves his boat more than his own seeds of new humans. That a boat rowed, talks to u in language of splashes. And that the river, is a passionate lover who likes to drench you in her love. And that the palms, aligning the coasts, are the rivers courtiers. Standing in a line, to welcome each of it’s wave with all the awe and respect. And that the wind is her playmate, whose touch runs shivers through the spines of these tall spinsters.
I’ve seen it swell in anger. I’ve seen it greedily gulping the rain. I’ve seen it knock at our doors, trying to find place in our houses, when mountains are unable to hold happiness in their chest on their summer burns being soothed by blissful rains. I’ve seen it loose it’s levels to let the crabs, frogs and river snakes breathe. I’ve seen it carrying trunks of trees in it’s soiled ferocious being. And I’ve seen her cuddle little swordfishes in it’s motherly arms when they jump overwhelmed by her love for them.
One summer, A four year old me dips a finger into the river and the boatman ‘Bapu’ scolds me.
“Brat, if u fall off the boat….u’ll reach the land of the snakes far below at the bed….only Bhima could survive it…u can’t u fool…..sit straight.”
Another such summer, I look at her stretch and ask my ‘Baba’
“Baba….how deep is it???....can we swim in it”
And Baba replies….”only near the shores my son…..for it is so deep at it’s body, that a thousand knotted rope too can’t measure it’s depth.”
Another summer, I move away from the shore swimming …and then, suddenly I can’t feel the land below my feet …..I rush back to the shore, swimming as fast as I can.
Another summer I cross it swimming, accompanied by my rural playmate ‘Sanjya’. He saves me from drowning once in the middle of the trail. When we reach other shore, we exchange our adolescent love stories. Whilst returning Sanjya says,”I saved u in time…..a moment late and you would’ve reached the depths even I would’ve found it difficult to enter.”, he caught fishes with his father in the river and knew it inside out…but not to the depths I would’ve reached, if he had not saved me.
Summers came. Summers went. Each hotter, than the previous one.
One summer Sanjya’s youngest brother comes to us with oysters in his hand. Places them on the table upon which we are sitting sipping tea.
I ask Sanjya where did he get it from.
His brother replies from the river bed. I look at Sanjya. He looks at me.

Another summer whilst crossing the river, I see a twig rising out of the river. As we ass near it, I see it is attached to something below firmly. Something like a branch of a tree.
Two summers later a mass of land is seen rising out of the river. I ask Bapu…
”Bapu…..what’s this??”
“Maybe an island coming up…..seeing it from last few months….”

Next summer the boat does not leave from the usual wharf. Water goes below it’s last step during low tides they say.
The island has stretched it’s mass furthermore.

Another summer and Bapu’s boat gets stuck in the sand below. People alight from the boat and push it to move it further.

Next summer more land masses are seen.

The summer later, these masses stretch over lengthier patches.

This summer, the boat only ferries when it is high tide. At low tides, they say u can see nearly half of the bed peeping out of the river at the shores.

Bapu said….”I’ll be out of job soon…in next few years people will walk over from one shore to another…..” and laughs cynically.

And with the river will be gone those years.

That day on television they said on the TV…Ganga is drying up due to global warming. It is rapidly loosing it’s level of water. WWF had conducted the survey(World Wildlife Fund…not World Wrestling Federation).

When my son will travel between the two shores, they won’t be shores anymore. There won’t be any river. There won’t be any Bapu. Sanjya and his brothers won’t be fishing. No thousand knotted rope will be needed to count it’s depth. The land of Snakes which Bhima escaped won’t exist anymore.

What do I care???.....I’ll give GRE next year.