My first impression of Ganga from a bridge above the river
in Haridwar was nothing spectacular.
“Oh! This is The
Ganga, huh? “
The river was fast flowing and muddy due to the rains in the
Himalayas from where the river originates.
The hotel where I stayed offered a private bathing ghat on
the banks of the river.
The river was ice cold, in complete contrast to the warm and
humid weather of Haridwar.
Standing at the river bank, the river looked much bigger,
powerful and with an immense flow rate, of water gushing through. The constant
sounds of the river gurgling was indeed a melody.
What is Ganga? Is it
the water that is flowing through as a rapid or is it the static banks holding
the moving river within itself?
At knee deep in the ghat, it did not take too much time to
acclimatize with the coldness of the river.
The floor of the ghat was muddy, much in contrast to the
pristine swimming pools I was used to.
How old is this river?
Few thousand years? Untiringly transporting everything to the plains below..
The river carried flower petals, ritual ablutions, some discarded plastic and all kinds of debris
from the banks. A wild, untamed powerful river has the requisite magnetism for
an urban traveller to be in awe.
The river keeps
nothing with itself. Everything is carried away. Nothing within it stays in the
same way.
Few dips in the cold water. Remembering the ancestors –
grandparents, relatives lost in time, father-in-law, a long lost brother and
Manoj Kayande..
Most of the memories were foggy. Not sharp. It was quite an
effort to rake up memories of them by force. Was it the cold water?
Fortunate enough to be present in the river and trying to remember
them. Emotions of their memories stirred up, not as incidents, but as blunt
emotions. Not able to identify with anything in particular.
Is the river doing something to the brain? Similar to mood swing
without any dominant mood to identify with. Frustrating enough to lose sense of
emotional directions.
Someday I will also go
away in time.. like the flower garlands that floated away. Someone else will come and remember me in this
river. May be going through the same emotions.
This river will carry
the memories down to the plains.. and to the mystical nether world. Memories.. Go..
Going and gone.
I could visualize my ancestors – nameless, faceless, unknown
who could have been here and running through a similar emotional state. Certainly
more religious. Simpler in lifestyle.
I am running their genes
within myself. Fortunate enough to bring the body what they gave, into this
river. What they would have done here?
Could have been seeking
forgiveness, thankful to whatever little mercies they got in life, gratitude in
general, wishing well every one.
With no sense of emotional clarity, I did the same to whoever
name that came first in memory. Wishing them well wherever they are, whatever
they are doing.
Magic happened. When I don’t know. But the change was very
evident.
The emotions were draining away along with the water. A calm
sense prevailed. Power of positive intentions? may be.
There came a point, where I could not remember anything. Just
observing the river. Watching. Watching the watcher within whatever I was. The Witnessing
manifested very powerfully.
Thoughtless. Timeless. Stateless. Associated with no
identity. No-thingness of the Nothing. The free spirit of the beingness. The lightness
of just That.
More dips into the river.
Ananda. Gratitude. Surrendered state. Mindful of the No mind
state.
Just Be - the One with the river. The One with everyone. The
One everywhere. The One within. The One without.
When I walked to the bank I was different.
With folded palms, and closed eyes I remained in the same
state of Oneness.
The hotel employee was smiling.
Ganga has done her magic.
