A river runs through me.
Winding through the brunt bricks of time,
Turning at right angles of centuries,
Carrying the waters of afar lands of wisdom and knowledge.
It meanders among the rich hues of cultures;
Taking the colors of change and giving its soothing touch.
Accepting offerings of hope, dreams and wishes of the throngs of generations at its sides.
It gives cool succor to the parched souls,
And washes away some of their imperfections.
It has seen ages of golden lights, and bloody fights,
It has passed through valleys of milk and honey ;
Through silent villages of death.
It has quenched the thirst of wanderers of life, and;
Doused the fires of several lives torn apart.
It courses through me,
Falling from the mouth of creation, till the end of time.
It has given the rhythm to my heart to beat with the music of life;
The strength in my sinew to battle my fears;
The fluid tenacity in my limbs to walk afar pursuing my dreams.
The wisdom of all my progenitors past.
The river grows old.
It is heavy with load of this earth and beyond.
It meets the vast Oneness and,
Then is born again amid untouched purity and glistening glory.
But its depths still carries the first prayer, the first tear, the first blood and the first word.
On my turning a new corner to the fourth street in life,
And the end of road of one of my grand progenitors,
I ask myself Can I pass away ?
I hear the gurgling of sounds beyond and I remember.
A river runs through me......
Written on 29th October, 2009
(This time my birthday and Diwali were on the same day and everybody including me were looking forward to it. It was after five years that I would be home for my birthday . It was a great day with family and friends. A week later the day I returned back to my campus I received the news that my maternal grandparent had passed away. And I wondered at life's what should I call it circularity.. a week before it was celebration time and then .. Though they say when old people leave us we should not grieve because they have lived a full life and it is time to move on. It is true for my nanaji too. That is when I was reminded of a conversation I had with my friends last year where we were playing with the decision ball and one my friends asked the question "Can I pass away?" and it was interesting to think about it. I had even begun a poem titled with the question. After the recent times I again thought about the question where it struck me that I carry something of my grandparents in me too like I do something of my parents and hence something of everything that has gone by. Therefore the concept of a river which flows over the ages and continues to exist in time though changed and transformed. The river here any of course be any but I had the river Indus in mind as I am fascinated with the Indus valley civilization and the level of progress we had made then. That knowledge surprisingly did not continue down the ages. Some references to the civilization are there in the poem ..short refresher of high school history !!! :) )