Riverside Musings

As I sat next to Ganga watching her flow, she gurgled and cooed in her benign yet forceful way, inevitably stirring up the rusted internal thought-manufacturing machinery.  All she seemingly does is move, and in her movement lies wisdom that transcends time, flowing uninhibited, available to all yet elusive to most.  Saffron-clad sages enter into her and offer obeisances as a sign of respect and surrender.  Children laugh in glee, splashing each other, throwing themselves into her soft bosom, unafraid and untethered.  Young couples eager to broadcast their love to the world use her as a backdrop, blurring her flow while stepping into the foreground.

Pilgrims arrive in hoards, their hearts eager and their voices loud.  In a flurry of excitement, they lose their usual sense of modesty and unravel their saris in public. Entering Ganga they take their dips and with mechanical precision, change into fresh clothes right on the ghat.  The belief in Ganga’s purificatory powers brings young and old to her banks, offering themselves and their subsequent generations into her merciful arms. 

Independently, she goes on, unaffected by all that happens around her, all that is thrown into her and all who challenge her.  She is strong and supple and follows her own law, at times swallowing unsuspecting bathers and at other times, enlightening seekers. 

 

As I sat beside her, her cool breeze brushing against my skin, eyes open, ears receptive; my thoughts lay bare as my mind was completely relaxed.  She flowed and I watched.  As she moved my eyes followed, her image reflected in the blank canvas of my mind.  It was observation without judgement, without the superimposition of meaning-simple observation-allowing the senses to collect data free from personal bias.  Though not a deliberate exercise where thoughts were forced not to appear, it happened spontaneously in front of Mother.  When the child’s desire to be with its Mother is fulfilled, all other desires are put to rest and the mind and senses remains calm, free from restlessness and inadequacy, content, fulfilled and quiet.  In this state of internal silence, my eyes wandered onto the flow of water.  Across the way, at the far end of the banks, she splashed against the shoreline but maintained her speed, so it seemed.  In the middle of the river, she was at full force; hurtling over rocks spitting out white foam crests and circling out clear, glassy troughs.  My eyes followed her mighty vigour as far as they could see till I noticed that she was also trickling along right next to me.  She was dancing between rocks, creating ripples and concentric patterns, moving in every direction but forward.  There was a rhythm to her movement and it was different from the rhythm at the centre of the river.  Here, beside me, she was taking her time, she was soft and lush, rich and complex.  She created kaleidoscopic movement patterns and emitted soft, lilting music as she nestled herself in the shallows, unlike the roaring lioness she made herself out to be.  She roared and cooed, simultaneously-how could it be so? It appeared that was her reality.  And that’s when it hit me, that it was also mine.  Whether I surge ahead with clear ambition or take my time, enjoy the music and dance a little; move, I shall. In this inevitability, every moment pleasant or unpleasant becomes beautiful, welcome and fulfilling, just as it is. When the urge for change and resistance to the present is dropped, the present alone remains.  That’s how she flows.