புனித கங்கையில் யாரை வீசி எறியலாம்?

The sun was setting on the misty veil covering the beauty of the bare-body flow as furious as that of a damsel in her virgin splendour angrily searching her paramour to spend yesterday's chilly evening in Haridwar in her most Holy Name, Ganga, the river taken up as deeply etched as in an epic by Ilango in his Silappathikaaram a 2500 years ago in a land some 3500 mile south from here.

The dusk was like a murky dawn as light was fading but making way to thousands of people seated at the bathing steps along the Ganga's banks holding baskets of flowers amid oil lamps lit in clay crucibles to be floated along the flow of the lass running in a fury from her unknown father's home in the high Himalayas as though she has lost her loving lad elsewhere across the plains she feeds with her breasts of nectar to every living thing blessed to be fed by her in thousands of miles below to dissipate in ecstasy of fulfilment in the Bay of Bengal.

The water was like the tip of the thorn making incision without the trace of its insertion into my legs petrifying each molecule of blood struggling to move in the veins intertwined with the Titanium rods and screw propping me to stand and walk. I clearly felt that I was freezing from my big toe as I touched the body of Ganga first. The solidifying blood could easily clot any man of my age at that time in the waters of Ganga. But, being a paramour myself to her and also a son of one Gangagtharan, my paternal uncle, I knew that Ganga cannot be so merciless to me. I took lungful of the misty air above the waters and immersed for the first time my mortal frame into the Ganga in such a pleasure and lust only that overwhelms anyone immerses himself with his soul into the body of the other for whom his whole heart was pulsating in throes of passion and love in longing.

Inside the Ganga, I opened my eyes into the waters in curiosity if I could “see” something. It was like an astronaut viewing thru his window into the expanse of space while floating behind the moon in a shuttle module. All were dark. The atomized soil making the waters of Ganga mauve in hue blinds the powers of eyes to vision or view.

In seconds, the whole Hari-Ki-Pahdi, the locale, became a world by itself as the Ganga could only be seen a few meters from where I was standing along the bathing steps. I could equate the Ganga at that time to an young girl of broad hips and large bosom letting her locks of hair flow down to her knees simply spreading her long arms and legs wide open in the air dancing and gyrating unmindful of observers throwing and darting at her their stupefied minds and eyes in thousands and in unison.

Yes, the Ganga was as shameless as she was seen even by me stark naked! Her passion to satiate the lust of her admirers of every hidden design in their minds is equally as vigorous as her current in her flow. “Take me all!” – She seems to yell craving for each soul at her banks to prank on her naked body flow! Who will be a fool to not to touch, taste or tease such a beautiful virgin in her prime of puberty?

Across the banks, there were frantic cries in admiration, reverence and joy the chanting emanated from thousands of mouths of devotees thronged in praising the Ganga. “Ganga Maiyya Ki Jay” was the reverberation echoed from across the hills standing in guard protecting the Ganga running in her girlish ecstasy dancing naked in her trance tantalizing people in garbs and disguises of hermits and Sadhus eking out on the pleasure she offers in her innocence of a village belle. Those mountains were lush in green akin in shape but wild unlike their cousins I witnessed in Nara forestlands in Japan. They must be the Promised Land offered to wild jaguars, tigers and leopards, for sure. They are very dense in olive green colour added to pitch brown shades of the evening sun, fading by seconds.

And where she goes? Whom she searches in running so speedily? I felt a passion in her flow. I saw awful and fierce motion in her rapids. The bubbles in foams thrown into air from hundreds of rapids along the Ganga’s flow give vent to such gurgles in musical melody that only an innocent bride could yield to her new groom in her nuptial night after her wedding to him was solemnized by her parents and brothers. The whiteness in the foam gets tanned as they appear to match with the smile the Ganga enjoys herself with her flow.

I know her cousin in the Dravidian lands, the kaveri runs in the same fury entering each home in Tanjavoor driving out darkness in poverty, hunger, misery and penury with her nectar that morphs the whole delta land into the granary of the South. From the Rock Fort in Trichy, the placid Kaveri is much larger and wider than the Ganga I saw yesterday in fury in Haridwar. Both these gifts of god to India are a class apart like the cut-glass beauty of “Waka – Waka” siren in Sakira!

We Indians need to wake up to imagination of Sir. Visweswaraiya. We need to integrate perennial rivers flowing waste into the seas. We are not one nation till this moment and to this second. We are a plethora of ethnic entities exceptionally fit to wage war within but extraordinarily till this long in eggs to empower us with the eternal gift that nature has blessed us with. We fight for the waters of Kaveri while the Kuruvai crop across the district of Tanjaavoor is withering out to become haystacks without a drop of water that Karnataka State denies in its own egoism and protectionism. We are thus making our nation an agricultural outcaste.

Our agricultural minister in the Union Cabinet is sulking to handle his ministry. But, he is too happy and busy to be the ICCI Chief while retaining his boring job as our Union minister for Agriculture! He says he is “over burdened!” Such idiots and nincompoops rule us as a nation.

I wish to throw them into the hungry flow of furious Ganga.

Now know the fact that, Ganga is running in her fury with anger not in search of her paramour like me to lock herself in bed of passion but she hunts down those politicians, ministers and useless officials ruling India as a dry and waste land even with the abundance of waters flowing from rivers as large as her and rivulets in thousands across the Indian subcontinent.

As her lover, I tasted everything yesterday she has shown and offered bearing open her frame and body that only a carefree virgin could bless her beloved boyfriend with. And I am one in those millions of lucky lads!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This article is not written out of any passion for rivers in Kaveri or Ganga. It is out of my sadness that a country with an unending water resource is foolishly blind to not to utilize this natural gift to its prosperity and drive away its poverty among its people. I compared a waterless state in Singapore with my India full of water flowing waste. Singapore is 100% wealthier compared to India. It imports water from Malaysia and sells back the same as Coca Cola and Pepsi thrice at the price it buys water!