The River

'Come on dear, now you are going to catch cold again'... The lady shouted at the boy splashing through the flowing water round the rocks. She had almost done with her washing. 'Enough of swimming for today', she was heard to warn again.

‘But Ma, Da was saying that I have to swim a lot better to swim down there in the plains’, the little boy stood up from the water just for a moment to answer, and splashed back again. ‘I need to practice a lot…’- his voice sank down into the ever gurgling river.

The lady got up, and bundling the washed clothes at her waist, she approached the little kid. Sensing a captivation, he tried to flee hurling through the knee-deep water, but his mother was faster. The kid splashed a lot of water at his mother, who just bent down a little to pick him up. She trod on the rocky river-bed with a cautious ease, and returned to the bank, with her load of clothes and the kid at her waist. Skillfully she had managed to balance the clothes at her waist, and the kid on the clothes, grasping them together by a single hand. As she reached the bank, she started doing her drape that got messed during her work with the other hand. The kid was no more in a mood for protest. He had thrown his arms round his mother’s neck, and had rested his chin on her shoulder. He seemed a bit tired from the long exercise of swimming. Actually, he was thinking about a puzzle…

Da was saying this is no river, ma… just a stream. Rivers flow down there in the plains. But we call this our river…

The river could not listen to the conversation any more. The lady in the meantime had started for her home, and had already gone beyond audibility. But, for the first time in his life, she got something to think upon… if a river is not a river, then how does she flow? She was puzzled thoroughly, so puzzled that perhaps she forgot to flow.

‘What makes you to halt?’ Gurgled the water on the rocky bed angrily. ‘We are in a rush, and there is no time for your daydreaming…’

And that added to the complication. ‘Did I stop at all? What makes the water think that I stopped? Am I different from the water that flows on my bed?’… The river was totally confused. Just then she noticed the rock again, standing in her way as usual. Mad with her confusion, she splashed hard on the rock…

‘What makes you to stand in my way?’ The river seemed to swell in fury.

The rock was glad. The river had talked to him. It was no friendly manner though, still…, the rock was happy…

But you have brought me here… why do you complain now?

I would never have brought you here, and never had. It’s a lie…

‘Rocks never lie… they need not lying…’ The rock answered in his usual silence… ‘We speak the truth from the core of our heart, always… and so we are given the responsibility to preserve the history of this planet…’

However, his meditation broke soon at another hard splash from the river--- ‘You forget perhaps… it was a long time back when you had rolled me down here from the hills above’.

Long? How long that I can’t remember anything? 

Many cycles before… it’s so past that even I don’t remember exactly… 

‘Cycle? And what the hell is that?’ The river sounded very rude. The rock paused a little, and then threw a question back in return...

Why don’t you find out where this water comes from, and where it goes to?

Rubbish!!! How can I leave this place and go? I serve this village and belong to this very place. It must be one of your fine tricks to caste me away from this very place of mine.

Just send a bit of yours… you need not leave this place… this is yours… The rock sounded very tired from the heat of the conversation, and he uttered no more. The river thought for a while upon the suggestion, but remained undecided. She did not know how to part with a bit of herself to find out who she was. Just then she realized that she herself had rushed forward in the quest, leaving behind the rumbling behind…

It was really very funny… the river never had felt such before. Newer horizons were getting opened before her eyes… and most amazingly… she was feeling the same at home as she had always felt at her village. Newer environment, still in continuation with the previous one, brewing the same old at home feeling, as if one is walking from one room to another in his own house… the river did not know how to react with herself and the situation… 

She went on… her valley continued… the water rolled on… even she felt the rumbling, which she had left behind at her village, following her. Engrossed in her queer feeling, she had not noticed that she had reached the edge of the hill. She could not check herself but yelled out long as she jumped of the cliff.

But it did not hurt, for she did not fall on bare rocks, but had plunged on another bigger river down below. She felt ashamed and apologized, though in the core of her heart, she hold the rock responsible for this. Had he not suggested this very quest, such ill-mannered bumping would never have happened.

But nobody replied. ‘Not only the rocks’, thought the river, ‘but, even rivers can be ill-mannered’. She looked up to find if the other one had frowned, but was amazed to find nobody around. It was only her, just a bit grown up, rumbling round the rocks...

The riddle of the other one disappearing came clear soon as she found another plunging unto her. She tried her best to keep her away, but in vain. Soon, the other river crept unto her soul. The river could do nothing to save her own identity for herself only.

She felt tired out of weariness. If she could not remain herself, how was she going to return to her own place, the little village above? It was just a dirty trick of the rock to get rid of her from her own place. She knew it very well from the beginning that he was there only to be in her way. She felt very uneasy of the situation. She wished to stop and return to her old place, but she could not stop.

But distance did a marvel. As the river continued to flow, she felt that she was actually a single river flowing to a single tune. Herself, the larger one she joined in, and the other one that joined her,- none had ever been different. Their courses, their valleys and villages, the lives they support,--- all had been so alike. She flowed on as one… awaiting some more to come and join, with their own loads. She was growing…

And she continued to grow… more rivers came in and made tributes with their shares of treasures… sometimes even rain poured down to swell her up. But that never added to her hurry as before. She had got now much more to perform… to serve and support much more of the planet, but with increased responsibility, her calm had also increased. Even she had learned to distribute shares of responsibilities, and hence, sometimes branched off. Sometimes, as their shares were over, they returned to her; sometimes, they were sent to some other river. The river now knew that they all being the same, it must be her duty to feed others as she had been fed once to grow… to perform… to serve…

And as the river was growing wiser, she was being open to more and more learning. And the more she was learning, she was being more and more eager to share. Hence, when she met the sea, her joy knew no bound. She entered the sea and greeted all her other friends to share all her treasures she had been carrying so long… deep within her. 

The river was still far from understanding the words the rock had said. But, she had no more hard feelings for the rock. She had discovered herself and her world in a newer light of meaning. Instead of standing in segregation, she had started living in integrity. She rather bore a secret desire to thank the rock for his suggestion that had helped her to widen her vision. She had changed a lot since then. Even, she had made friendship with many a rock on her way down to the sea, had left her marks over their bosoms, and sometimes through them. Sometimes she had carried them with her, sometimes had reduced them, and sometimes had deposited them on her banks to grow unto soil in collaboration with humus.

The sun smiled again. It is said that strong desires can do miracles. And therefore, the river learnt of just another miracle of nature. She turned light, very light. She thought that it was good to feel light after sharing all her secret treasures with others. Soon, she turned so light that she went up into the sky in vapours. The river thus turned to be a floating pool of tiny droplets. She did not flow anymore, rather she started floating, floating above all, even above herself flowing below.

The Wind got stronger and blew her harder inland. It was a good time for looking down at one’s own self below. She started meditating upon herself and started to grow again on a completely different plane as she was being greeted continually by other clouds floating in the sky. 

One day, the horizon looked different from the other days. It was blocked by high mountain ranges. She tried to leap over, but failed. She poured down as heavy rain and washed down the mountains.

She was rushing down in small rills along the slope. A rock was on her way. She tried to bend her path away, but failed due to inertia. She collided…

The rock started rolling… it rolled along her… it rolled with her… until it collided with another rock. Then it stopped rolling, but at the cost of the other rock turning to pieces.

Round the rock, the river flows… 

 The Yellowed Leaf

It was just another day… another usual day… just as bright and as sunny as the other usual winter days in the valley. The sun was already there, up in the sky… bright and smiling… warming up everything down heartily. A cold, mild wind was blowing playfully all around… rustling through the leaves of the Peepul tree, startling the little waves down the river, whispering around the rock below… fluffing up the feathers of the early birds basking in the warmth of the morning light. Everything was in the usual rhythm. But the Peepul tree had noticed something different…

It was about one of his leaves… all of them were rustling pleasantly in the northern breeze… welcoming the season… and the brightness of the morning… and were waving their green into the very heart of the valley. However, one particular leaf at the end of a branch had lost its usual green lusture, turning yellowish. The Peepul tree knew the signs. Soon the leaf would lose all its green… and would turn yellow and brown… and then would end up dropping down. And soon, the same would occur with all the other leaves… it was just the beginning…

The Peepul tree would have bursted into tears… if it had human eyes. Everything all around was so happy… just it was very different,… and so very different with the Peepul tree only. He was very well aware of the bare truth of the coming days. When everything will be bright and colourful under the sun, he will be left bare… standing colourless in its mere skeleton… all alone with its helpless, skinny shadow trembling down the river. 

The Peepul tree was not mistaken. He had observed the same phenomenon for years. And perhaps, as he dreaded and disliked this bare fact utmost in his life, the pain always seemed to increase each and every time he discovered his leaves turning yellow one by one… Moreover, he always expected others to turn compassionate and sympathetic, but they all seemed to be least concerned… paying no heed at all.

Hence, at such times, the bitter Peepul tree actually hated the friendly playful jest of the wind. Though the wind played along its boughs and branches almost throughout the year, at these times of the years, he simply turned mad at the wind. He himself always had been very friendly with the river flowing by… bending down its branches often to say a friendly ‘hello’, and rising back happy being touched by the startling waves. But during these periods, it had occurred to him, that the river only leapt high to mock his bareness. Even, at such times, he disliked the attitude of the rock below, down in the river. His silent presence, that seemed always to be a friendly, wise neighbour-like attitude during the rest of the year, seemed quite bantering these days. His peace was gone for the days…

The leaf was quite aware of the Peepul tree’s suffering. It was not that he was not concerned, but he preferred not to approach the tree to soothe his pain. Rather he believed to trust in one’s own capacity to realize the truths of life. He had been feeding the tree like his own since very long, since his very own childhood. He himself had turned quite old. Still, he was not relieved of his responsibilities. None gets relieved actually, for each age has got its own responsibilities to bear. The toxins the leaf had accumulated in himself from his experience of life was to be turned to life again through his own death… It just waited for the ripe moment…

The wind blew again to kiss the leaf the final goodbye… It did not drop, rather it rode the wind to glide to the rock down in the river. The rock seemed to have waiting for his friend for long. The fallen leaf ran along the surface of the rock, in a swirling motion, as if, bidding him to join, before it leapt into the river. A small wave pushed him gently to a sheltered part in the shallow bank. Lying there, for his final rest, the leaf winked at the rock. The Peepul tree observed painfully its first leaf to fall for that season. 

The rock smiled back at the leaf. He knew the leaf would wait for him to join there… when washed to small grains by the rumbling river, he and the leaf together, they would bring life to the soil again… where the Peepul tree will thrive, and many more will grow. 

The wind hurled back to the other leaves of the Peepul tree to share the news.