Ganga

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 The waters are turbid throughout –

The river is filled with dirt

Centuries of silt entombed beneath –

While above – every vestige of civilization

 

Dam the river’s heart -

Crematorium, flower bazaar, industry

Almost everything reveals its grime

To the sacred waters of the Ganga

 

How can the river take it all?

As if she came down to cleanse

Not just Bhagirath’s ancestors

But Kalyug’s descendants as well

 

But Ganga flows on ceaselessly:

Born of Hari’s feet, poured of Brahma’s pot,

And embraced through Shiva’s locks –

She is divine

 

Divinity that we mortals

Cannot even think of –

So she serves her time on earth

Knowing Kailash waits for her each time

 

With that knowledge, this dream

Remains a dream, as she connects

Mountain to ocean, just as she connects

Us mortals to our mighty Maker

 

Washing our sins, dissolving our deeds

Reminding us where we came from,

As the universe rebirths each time

She wakes anew at Gaumukh’s melt…

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