This is the river which bathed my childhood. It flows down my village and my house is just a few metres above its lush green basin, my ancestral home where I grew up as well as my present residence. Back then, in summer season, this river would shrink into a rivulet throwing up golden sandy banks on both sides with interspersed granite rocks. In monsoon, it would become a monstrous swirl of riled water carrying all sorts of things from coconuts to tree trunks. Its width then would expand into the farms on both sides. We would stand at a distance and admire its might. As the monsoon receded, the river would shrink making itself the best playfield for us. We swam in her clear waters and fished in her creeks and bends. The river continues to live half a century later in spite of the ‘progress and development’ that my village underwent. Unlike many other rivers which have become open sewers, this one continues to carry fairly clear water. Some villagers still take bath in it and wash c
Cerebrate and Celebrate