Jhaalmuri: If I could Speak...

Barsha tumi jhoro na go emon jore. This was what every living-soul was chanting on that fateful night when the monsoons had hit hard and torrential rains were playing havoc in a secluded serene turf, off the beaten tracks. Following was the day I was born. No one knows for sure when or where. My origin is at an obscure location. I found myself in the rocks in a desolate terrain. Just after my birth, I had a terrible course; ups and downs of my life seemed so rude and unbearable... No one pampered me and I was just in tears and tears. In the uneven terrain, often I had bruises & scratches. A baby doesn’t know what is giving up, but probably I had. To my surprise, one day I saw a ray of hope. Bright sun light peeped into when sweet music of chirping birds enthralled me. Dew drops dazzle on the leaves, flowers make color-ornate-branches, the Sun sparkle on my shoulder, when I make my first laughter in glee. Life seems to be beautiful and I start to love it, when…! aah, who is that so rude now again? I fell-down from an ugly height - unarmed, ignorant, helpless, and innocent!!

How have the Sun’s rays in my heart
Entered this morning! How have the songs
Of morning birds into the dark cave broken into!
Who knows why, after long, my soul has woken!

Aji e prabhate Robir kor
Kemane pashila praner par
Kemane pashila guhar andhare,
Prabhat pakhir gan.
Na jani kenore etadin pare
Jagiya uthilo pran.

You have now almost guessed who I am, Yes, I am a river!! I fall from the heights to the Great Plain and start to enjoy my days. As I crawl over, I amaze over the marvels of Nature, over the intricacies of mankind. The wide expanse around me stands like a baffling mystery. I harvest a bunch of untold stories as I move. I have seen many civilizations prosper, many cities grow. Small children play on my banks, dive in my water. I wonder with awe, how fast human race has progressed. Man started to tame and rein upon the forces of Nature to his own advantage. Sadly, they became so callously egoistic, they forgot to notice when their best friend has died. Yes I am speaking about their soul mate ‘Common Sense’. He was always with Man, many a times although, unnoticed. His was a silent character. Used to speak when an intellectual idea was needed, otherwise was a good listener. No one knew how old he was, since his birth records were long lost when societies started getting modern. His health began to worsen when, well-intentioned but over bearing regulations were set in place. I saw an accident victim on my banks, who was breathing perhaps the last few breaths. She was left alone with me for she needs a police report before she can be touched by the doctors.

He almost lost his base, when parents marched like an army to the school and gheraoed the teacher for going that extra mile which they themselves couldn't and failed in disciplining their unruly wards. He lived by sound financial policy: spend less than you earn, and an immortal political policy: be the last one to be involved in a fight. No one came to his funeral as most of the people even didn’t notice he was dead. Humans were then left without their best friend whom I now christen as ‘Rare Sense’, and it was a cause of big worry for me. They forgot about the about the sweet water I feed them, they forgot about the little fishes whom I nurture. A huge dark pipe lay ahead of me, and I rush in like a whirlpool, fall on the gigantic looking cruel blades of destiny, which they call ‘Iron’. My fishes get severe back pain some get cuts and I make the turbines go round. I am let to be out in the open again where I meet with the untreated sewage and my tiny friends can’t breathe anymore.

When you call me the Seine, I saw the built up of the oldest City (that you still recognize). It’s Paris. In the same time, far away, in the land of the Holy Saints, when you worshiped me with the name Ganga, I witnessed the foundation of Varanasi. Two of the oldest cities of the world with continued habitation, has many beautiful and jaw dropping histories that perished with TIME. Interestingly enough, WE (me and Time) often ridicule each other. We both are good erasers– Facts and histories get erased from memory with Time, and Facts and histories get erased from the world with my (flood) waters. But, I always win the argument over Time. You guess why…

When I was the Mississippi, one day I was passing by the turn to see a young boy Tom Sawyer narrating his adventures to Mark Twain. The later almost became world famous by plotting this evening stroll onto the screen. Mark Twain said: “Varanasi is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.” I quote him here, because he has told you something, that Time allowed you to forget. This city was founded by Lord Shiva in 3000 BC. I am being honest here. There are moments when Time wins over me, and in that case it’s irreversible. The oldest city as far as I know, was founded in 7500BC, on my banks, but alas, a big natural event changed everything. I was flowing in a place, a highly civilized and developed area; you call it now The Indian Ocean. The Ocean waters engulfed me, and I went underground, Time wins.., and no one today knows for sure about that era. Although I died in India centuries ago, some postmortems are still done by many like Michael A. Cremo in the USA, and reports are known as ‘forbidden archaeology’.

Sometimes enough is enough; I cannot anymore take the pains you give me. You bend my back putting loaded ships, discharge all the waste and stall me in the dam just to await my turn to face the blades again. What harm my little fishes have done to thee? How cheerfully you seem to grin, how neatly you lay your traps, and welcome my tiny angels in, with gently smiling jaws.

At times I lose patience and become furious, and get my dander up. I flood and flood to my heart’s content and enjoy your sufferings. But, when I see the innocent children leave their homes, cry and take shelter in trees my heart goes out to them and I realize I cannot be so cruel to my own. But how do I compensate the harm I already did? When going, I leave alluvial soils for your crops.

Wait, I have to tell you something important than giggling around, that no one will ever know. No one will hymn this song ever. TIME has wiped it off, but History is the witness to what I want to …, Aah, wait, what’s this ahead of me? What is that?

At the rise of the day,

I hear a song far away, from the vales on the inhabited blues.

When the growing sounds I hear,

I know it’s the confluence dear.

Who knows! What the birds did tweet today

That the Sun has finally taxed upon me...