GANGA

The music flows through my veins. I feel like Ganga, tranquil on the top but hiding a storm within. The cold choppy waters on the surface flow, rushing as if to meet someone waiting on the otherside, seive through my fingers as I bend over the side of the boat." Mem saheb shambhal ke,'' the voice of the boatman brings me back to the present. This is Hrishikesh and I let the magic, the mystery of Ganga flow through me. I let her enter me and pass through me, in turn acquainting me to the life of Ganga. I sit calm, let the biting cold water wash through me, wash my soul. This should have left me clean of my sins, isn't this the purpose of bathing in Ganga. And here I let her enter me. No! for me Ganga came in altogether different purpose. As her waters entered me, she whispered in my ear, " be like me. Let me take over you." And I let her. Ganga said," my water wash your dreams. Here see me. I am calm on the surface but dive into me and see how many lives I have hidden in my womb." Srilata died young and her husband immersed her ashes in Ganga. "But Srilata live in me even now. Look she wants to dress up as a newly wed bride, scented flowers woven in her hair, anklets tingling in her feet, bright red henna adorning her hands and feet. Pure white silk saree caressing her body." And then there is Ram Bahdur who wants to see his son grow up," I let him do that. Each year his son comes to my shores to pray for his fathers departed soul. And as Ram Bahadur's son dips his hand in me to pray, Ram Bahadur comes close to his son,'' says Ganga. " Lets flow together," tell me Ganga and I take water in my hand and stroll along. But what is this, its been just few steps that we have taken and all I have is a wet hand. I turn to look back, the sand beneath my feet rubs in between my toes. I look longingly at Ganga and she smiles back but flows on. There is another tale unfolding at the banks of Ganga.