Recalling a River

Vrishabhavathi,

Taking birth in the city

at the feet of the Bull temple

she secretly flows underground

emerges

And meanders

around tanks, fields, temples,

forests and villages.

An elixir for the city.

Swaying reeds, flourishing farms,

sparkling streams, fishes aplenty

where Children swim

and women mingle as they fill their pots.

Temples and legends galore

at every ridge and rapid;

Her ballet, a riot of colours,

flowers, turmeric, vermilion, and

oil lamps, celebrating her divinity.

Lush fields of rice, ragi and vegetables,

ground nuts, coconuts, and areca nuts

girdle her grace;

birds, butterflies and dragonflies

dance to her rippling rhythm.

Even as Jasmine, Marigold, Magnolias and Lilies

fill the air with their mystic fragrance.

Cattle graze on the green grass

by her shimmering waters,

while dreaming under Tamarind trees

are song filled shepherds.

Grasshoppers leap in the morning sunlight,

While frogs croak festively by moonlight.

Old timers marvel at her beauty

Recalling the River’s splendid spray

Charming through the land

Carving landscapes across time

Breathing life all around her

Her crystal tide once flowed with pride

Over time as the city grew

Beyond its reach

Cruel in its conquer

Building on every exposed inch of her frailty

never letting her breathe

Stagnating here and there

she now journeys heavily

gathering waste from communities

that she once nourished.

Captive between bridges and highways

speeding cars trampling her splendour

choked to the gills

toxic as she drifts

almost dying, as she unites

with the once glorious Arkavathy

now merely sand and stone

Beyond this the Rivers voyage,

dark and gloomy

through rocks and thorns,

fiery, burning away,

all desires.

Yet there is Resilience,

to survive, to unite with tenderness,

where lilies danced and fireflies glowed,

with the life giving,

Mother Cauvery.

Cauvery moves on

in shades of brown, black and muddied hue

Swamping paddies and groves,

sprinkling droplets on parched throats,

Hoping to fill their granaries once more.

As seasons change and trees become rare

Scorching under the southern sun

She travels forlorn.

As dams rise tall

In vain efforts to stop her flow,

Cauvery quietly flows

Delivering her promise

In humble acceptance of her tryst with destiny!

.

.

Bhargavi S.Rao January 2012