The Turbulence of the Ganga

About twenty years ago, I made my first trek in the Garhwal Himalayas. Hemkunt, at an elevation of 15,000 feet above sea level was our destination. The principal of my school in Delhi at that time was a passionate mountaineer and it was he who arranged this, and later a few more, trek for the senior students and their teachers. I was not quite enthusiastic initially because I doubted my stamina to make the climbs. But I was happy that I went on those treks. I am happier now, looking back. They were quite unique and rare experiences.

The first time in my life that I stood on the side of the highway and looked at the queer phenomenon of the Alaknanda and the Bhagirathi Rivers merging into one to become the Ganga at Devprayag was during that Hemkunt trip. It was queer because the Alaknanda is a crystal-clear river while the Bhagirathi is always turbulent. Their sources make the difference.

The source is important.

When I saw a picture of Devprayag in a Malayalam journal this morning, used as an illustration for a poem, I was reminded of my first trek and my fascination with the Ganga that accepted the purity of the Alaknanda and the turbulence of the Bhagirathi. The Ganga is a symbol of India; it accepts and transforms… It doesn’t destroy. No demolitions. No fabrications of history. It is a natural merge and flow.

Interestingly, the Malayalam poem in the journal mentioned above makes a vague reference to T S Eliot’s The Rock. My thoughts swayed like a trapeze artiste from Devprayag’s magic to Eliot’s Rock and back.

Where is the life we have lost in living? Eliot asks. Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?

The poem was written ninety years ago when the world was not overloaded with information.

Eliot goes on to warn us: There is no life that is not in community.

And that the man of excellent intention but impure heart is deadly.

The last line of the Malayalam poem referred to above is: What is great is not without some merges.

The Ganga’s purity as well as its impurity makes up India’s national texture. No one can rip them apart without destroying the integrity. Excellent intention is not enough; the purity of the heart matters too.