By Gulnaaz, Editorial Board, RLS 2024-25
Alok Giri stood holding his brother Astik Giri’s ashes by the banks of the river Ganga, waiting for the boat to arrive. It would be taking them to the middle of the waters, where they would immerse the ashes. Tremulously, Alok asked whether it was such a necessity. Couldn’t they just do it right there?
Chiding him, the Panditji implored Alok to think of the journey his brother’s soul had to
partake now. Noticing Alok’s persisting hesitation, the Pandit narrated a story.
“There was once an evil and greedy man. He would steal, lie, take bribes, letch after others’ wives, do all the wrong deeds a man can do. One day while travelling, he fell prey to a tiger in the jungle. Yamdoot (the messenger of the God of Death), arrived immediately to escort his soul to Yamlok, the abode of death. In Yamlok, Chitragupt started accounting for that man’s ill deeds and sentenced him to brutal punishments – to be burnt in boiling oil, to be bitten by snakes, whiplashes, pain and torture.
Meanwhile, here on Earth, his corpse lay rotting. Suddenly, an eagle came, took a bone from his body and flew into the sky. Another eagle tried to snatch it away, while fighting, both of the eagles happened to fly over the Ganga. It so happened that the bone fell out of their beaks and into the holy Ganga. As soon as the bone sank into the water, all the misdeeds of that sinner were washed away. And Yamraj had to send him to heaven. That’s the purpose behind immersing Astik’s ashes as deep as possible into the Ganga.”
“I understand, Panditji” Alok said. The tremor had disappeared from his voice.
This scene in the movie Pagglait (2021) left me teary – eyed. I had lost my grandpa in 2021 and the grief was still fresh. When my mother had returned from the fated journey to
Varanasi, I had seen a peculiar look on her face – grief mixed with relief, because now we
had ensured a pathway to heaven for my departed grandpa’s soul. All through the forgiving waters of ‘Ganga Maiya’ or ‘Mother Ganga’.
When a child is born, it is believed that dipping him in the Ganga’s water would grant him
vitality. From that to his ashes being immersed by his son in the same waters, a man lives a life. And the Ganga flows along, accepting the transiency of humans. Thus, our rivers carry the circle of life and renewal in their currents.
That’s the title we have conferred upon our rivers: that of mothers, providers, carers. And I
couldn’t agree more.
One look at history confirms the notion that life originates from water. Theories of evolution believe that humans came from the water, eventually evolving to become terrestrials. Water, especially river water, is essential to sustain life.
Ancient civilizations such as our Indus civilization were able to emerge and thrive owing to the bounties of the Indus River. The dendritic freshwaters of our India breathe life into its people. For most of its course, the Ganga is a wide and sluggish stream, flowing through one of the most fertile and densely populated regions in the world. Around the world, rivers have always been considered important strategically in trade, agriculture etc. However, rivers in our country are put on a pedestal of Gods, or rather, Goddesses. I noticed that rivers are referred to as feminine – Ganga, Yamuna, Narmada, Godavari. Maybe because their fresh waters rejuvenate life. The quality of flexibility is often attributed to the female form, and what could be more flexible than our rivers? The Himalayan rivers emerge from the glaciers in gushing streams, flowing through nooks and crannies, before spreading out into the plains.
Unsurprisingly, our rivers are an integral part of our society, religion, and culture. A testament to this is the Kumbh Mela, one of the most sacred pilgrimages in Hindu traditions, even visible from space. Millions of devotees flock to this Mela, held every 12 years.
We even house the holy waters of the Ganga in our temples and our homes. The spraying of Gangajal’ (Water of Ganga) to purify the environment is ingrained into the Hindu consciousness. Such is the piousness of our rivers.
Like misguided children however, we act in contradiction to our values. We take the names of our rivers with reverence, yet we pollute them. We thank them for the gifts they grant us, yet we kill the lifeforms within them. Protecting our rivers is essential to protect our culture. Growing up in Delhi, the only river I saw frequently while travelling around in the city was the Yamuna. But the frothy waters were just another addition to Delhi’s notorious pollution. I envy the people who’re able to sit by river banks everyday by virtue of proximity. No wonder towns like Banaras and Haridwar are religious, cultural, and spiritual hubs. Attending the nightly Ganga aarti at Dashashwamedh Ghat in Banaras is a priority in my travel bucket list.
Because unlike the ocean, rivers don’t become any more dangerous at night than they might be during the day. I never really favoured the term ‘Ganges’ coined for the Ganga by the British; it lacks the flair and fascination that so many people, Indians and others, have for the ganga. Bismillah Khan, the legendary shehnai maestro, had a deep connection with the Ganga river. Growing up in Banaras, the river gave him music. It didn’t matter if his faith was different, the city and the river fostered him with open arms. The Ganga was not just a river for Bismillah Khan, but a way of life. He would often say that he was born with the sound of the Ganga in his ears, and that it was the river that gave him his love for music. His words sum up the spiritual connect between our rivers and our culture –
"Just as the waters of the Ganga purify the body, the sound of the shehnai purifies the mind and soul."
ALL HAIL OUR RIVERS!
- Jayanti, Editorial Board, RLS, 2024-25
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