By the Banks of the Alaknanda-A Poem

Sitting by the banks of the Alaknanda,

I hear the murmur of the river which greets me in the morn.

The white tips of the waters froth when they meet an obstacle.

White sand lies strewn on the banks across,

White boulders big and small greet the eye,

A cricket sounds nearby, while a sparrow sings its song.

The mountains silent, watch from both sides as the day grows.

As waves continue to chase each other,

The voice of the river tells me of the great deeds of the gods

And great men long past, whose souls now flow in the waters

Of the Alaknanda, straight from the glaciers from high in the

Mountains. A mass of water moving with a single purpose to meet

A common goal. As the morning sun breaks out, the magic begins to

Change to the mundane but the voices continue to sing.

The river murmurs, the sound of a thousand voices.

Old men and young men tell of wise sayings of life long past-

Of the lives of ascetics and the lives of kings. A singular voice to

Remind the listener of the one who freed the villages of the Marauding

Snatcher of men, the man-eater of Rudra Prayag, his message of

Conserving and respecting Nature. I drink in a divine cocktail of

The spiritual and the real, a drink that runs frothing down the slope.

A great river flowing with a single purpose-to  of  a life long past!

The murmur of the river greets me as it cuts through the Boulders

And rocks, grinding the proud and the strong into small small pebbles,

With a deceptively gentle touch. For what gentleness does, can harshness

Match? So has the Alaknanda cut into to the most stubborn and proud

Of mountains, cutting a path so deep as she rushes to meet her sister,

Bhagirathi. While Bhagirathi is younger and more wild, the Alaknanda

Is more sedate and mature! And so she flows, the great Alaknanda-daughter

Of the ancient  glaciers, home of the mighty deities.

Away in the distance lying on the dry white sand see I forlorn remains

Of once mighty trees that stood so strong, proud and great as they challenged

Sky and Earth, now reduced to massive logs broken into bits by the mighty

Alaknanda. Their pride long lost, but massive still in girth- testimony of what

Happens to those with a bloated pride. The ground round rocks-poor comfort

Give, as they  weep of what they were and what they are!

All as the mighty Alaknanda rivers murmurs past  as I sit on a rock.

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