Virtue Or Death

The recent Uttrakhand tragedy plunged me into my memories of visiting Rishikesh and Haridwarsome three years ago. The image of Lord shiva'sstatue engulfed by the swollen river appeared quiteoften on all the television channels. It seemed asthough the Lord himself was conveying his helplessness against the fury of nature. It made me wonder whathad turned the soothing. Loving presence into abanshee. When the debate began, regarding the course of thisdisaster, most of the fingers were pointed towards man's selfish and irresponsible handling of nature. Iturned the pages of my scrapbook to look at the fond memories of that visit. The first picture showed us inour hotel in New Delhi. We had decided to make it our the focal point of our tour and take a day trips to places like Agra, Mathura, Vrindavan, Rishikesh, Haridwar, etc. Wehad decided to hire a vehicle that would take us to differentI turned a few pages to find our group huddled inour sweaters and jackets on a chilly December morning, on our way to Rishikesh. On reaching there the guide showedus the various attractions but the best experience had beenthe boat ride across the river Ganga. The water was blue like the ocean and clear as glass. The pristine waters seemed to have the capacity of silencing even the biggest critic who questionedthe purifying power of the river. The youngster in the group wanted to have a dip but the elders put their foot down as it was still quite cold over there. They decided that all of us will get rid of our sins in Haridwar. Three hours later we were on theHarkipaurighat in Haridwar. The elders were bubbling withexcitement to be surrounded by innumerable gods and goddesses and to have got the opportunity of taking a dip in such a scaredplace. But my energy and enthusiasm totally plummeted on

seeing the condition of the same river thirty kilometer downhill.

The water which had aroused devotion and piety in me justa few hours ago was strewn with flowers, earthen lamps, discarded packets of incense sticks, dried lives, a floating towel, broken glass bangles and so on. The colure of the water had also changed to muddy greenish brown. I looked around at the crowd of the people at various banks and I realized it was our fault that the river which is attributed the power of cleaning human souls had been reduced to this state. It was quite ironical when our driver started humming and the vehiclefilled with the strains of a song bemoaning the condition of the Ganges which has been purifying the soul of sinners since time immemorial.