the river beneath the river
Written and illustrated by Harini Aiana
Through an ancient civilization of yore, A breath of life, a river, once flowed Craving to serve humanity, it nourished The lives of millions by its shore.
By the hand of man, a seed was sown, Fields, forests, cities began to grow And grow and grow and grow they did, Until the river could feed them no more.
Centuries later, miles down South, Another river takes its birth, Pristine and pure- at a temple no less, Revered by all beside the banks it blessed.
Who could imagine, in the years to come, It would turn into a churning mess?
Hardly a sight for sore eyes- rather, An eyesore along the Mysore Road Hold your breath! Oh, what a stench! A disgraceful sight behold, As the noxious perfume of fresh garbage Arrives each night by the truck load
Bringing bags and cans of plastic and steel For cows and birds and dogs to choke on; Oh! if only they spoke, We'd hear their cries of misery.
As the discarded debris floats down, Through dark and murky waters deep, To the riverbed, where once would sleep, Life forms that pumped breath into the river
Now replaced by sludge and litter, It renders the river lifeless and bleak.
Wasn't this where children played? Where cows were grazed and people bathed? Now the freshest catch of the day are the shoe-sole and the bottles arrayed
For little boys to snatch up and sell A rupee for small, double for tall, A pittance compared to the price they pay Wading knee-deep in pools of waste Clearing a mess they didn't create Akin to the river, in so many ways.
The toxic water percolates through soil, Reaching fields nearby, where farmers toil, Under the sharp, bilstering heat of sun, Providing sustenance to everyone.
Is it not a shame to see The very land that feeds the city Polluted itself, and polluting those Whose life around the river grows?
We see it, but it's brushed aside, As we carry on with our bustling lives, Hardly sparing a moment or thought For the Unknown Worker, be it The scavenger, or the farmer, or The river, within whom we reside.
The river beneath the river is the story behind the unfortunate reality of the Vrishabhavathi River, whih flows through Bengaluru, Karnataka. A tributary of the Arkavathy River (which ultimately joins the Cauvery), its state has been rapidly deteriorating over the past four decades, leading to the question- are the river and its surroundings merely a reflection of human life?
I would like to thank Ms Vishakha Chanchani for guiding me through this journey, and for sharing with me, her story of the river.