The River Continued to Flow

Opening
Still Flowing, Still Serving, Still Hurting

Source :- (https://edition.cnn.com/2021/11/10/india/india-toxic-foam-intl-hnk)

The River Continued to Flow

The constant shhhhhhhh! echoed where the two rivers met at the confluence. From afar, they seemed like they were in competition to out-roar each other. But today, one lay silent, white foam spreading across the bank. Just meters below the junction, countless fish littered the shore. The pungent stench drew swarms of insects, dogs and opportunistic predators to the scene.

“What are you carrying today?”, the other river mocked.

She did not speak today; her usual jubilant nature had faded with the clear water, and the deep thoughtfulness had fogged her face.

Oh God, what is my purpose? Why did you make me? What is my duty? Why this confusion when I need only to flow?

I’ve carved mountains over millennia. I’ve carried the continent’s essence across eras. I’ve nourished millions since eternity.

Yet today, tremors of doubt shake me. Should I flow on, bearing poison instead of nectar? Or stop, and let the filth pool still?

“Hey, where are you?”, the other asked again.

“Umm… I….”

Their conversation broke off as a large machine growled towards the confluence, dragging a spiral of dust behind it. The animals feeding along the shore scattered at once — hooves, wings, and paws retreated into the trees. One by one, figures dressed entirely in white with a blue strip on their limbs alighted from the machine. Though their faces were hidden in transparent plastic, their movements were of confidence as if they owned the entire universe. Some of them carried glass bottles, while some of them carried a shovel and a box. The glass bottle gleamed in the sun as one of them bent and dipped it into the pale foaming water and sealed it. The other dug at different spots and collected the sand. After some time, the machine turned back the way it had come.

The vultures returned to the scene as the machine vanished, leaving a trail behind it.

“Who are they? They are not the ones I once knew.” She spoke with pain as if coming from another world entirely. “I remember once people had come laughing, their graceful feet leaving marks in the sand, their hands scooping water without fear. Now they came covered and careful as if I were an alien. I don’t want to be like this,” she cried.

Who am I? I am not this. I want myself back. I cannot see creatures dying because of me. I cannot be like this.

“This too shall pass.” The other river tried to console her, not looking at her.

She did not answer. The comfort rang hollow.

Beneath their words, the water slid forward as the current pulled on. Foam also followed, carrying what had already been given to them without their consent. Where the two rivers met, a new body formed, thicker, slower, darker burdened by everything they had carried. The surface looked pale and covered with muck. The stones beneath darkened as the water left behind a stain of untouchability.

Far away, beyond a bend, morning had just begun. The sun had just blessed the earth. The chirping of birds welcomed the moment. A girl carrying a vessel appeared at the bank. The river whispered, “Don’t take me, don’t take me.” She lifted her hem to her knees and dipped a vessel into the river, watching it fill, the foam thinning as it settled. Somewhere behind her, a child waited, half-asleep, quiet, and thirsty.

The river continued to flow.