And Joy-filled, Flows the Yamuna

Slowly, I am flowing, Carrying my fond hope That the promise will come true After all these years. Nay, not a century, I have waited for eons Without a single glimpse of the dark skinned prince.

The Ganga , the special one, Is in touch with The fair one’s matted locks, She flows with bliss And ever since she glimpsed Dasaratha’s beloved boy She is beside herself With unchecked joy.

I may be the lesser one, But I have to hope That today will be the day. And today he would come.

Suddenly, very suddenly Fat rain drops fall on me And become a torrent In no time at all Rain -laden clouds darken the sky Thunder booms, lightning streaks Strange light patterns Across the dark sky dome

Is this the day? Lord, is this the day? I dance and sing I slosh and swoosh I throw naughty waves All over my watery body And joy filled I almost jump over my banks

This is the day! Yes! This is the day! Yes! Says the Temple bell Yes! Say the pretty birds Who are rushing home Yes! Say every rock and Pebble on my way. Yes! Says my soul.

I stand still and watch As a man from Mathura, with a Basket in his hands, walks. His gait unsteady, his gaze steady Towards me he walks Holding his basket safe What could be so precious To be carried on a rainy night As dark as this?

My penances pay off And I wake up from trance Silly Yamuna! Don’t you know what’s in the Man’s basket, beneath the rags? Not some earthly treasure, you fool! The treasure of all treasures Has arrived in all his glory!

The prince has come! The fruit of penances Has really come! The slayer of sins has come! The lord of compassion has finally come! The very essence of the Vedas Has come! The one and only one Has come as a human once again!

I pause and reflect This is my day In all my long river life And I’ll live up to it! I watch with anxiety ,as Holding the basket tight The man stops in my bank His eyes wide with fright.

The frail man needs to cross My swirling waters to reach That place where the great one Has planned a stay In a home away from home. To the sky, the father looks up And cries out his name Just then a thunder booms And pulls me out of Deep trance once again.

I muster all my might and Every bit of stored up strength I make a space across my width They have to get to safety!

The saviour is playing games

He wants to know whether I can

Swallow my river-pride

And control my watery might!

I can ! I can!

Anything for him

If pride is the last thing I have

I 'd surrender it to him gladly!

The father sheds tears of joy And happily across he walks The blue safire on his head Lighting up his entire path. I long to touch the little feet But hold myself very still. My mind goads me to touch him Go, on , Yamuna, He might be a new born But he’s still the mighty one Your waves will not harm him So go touch him! Touch that tiny feet1 For, this may be your last chance And only he knows when He’ll come back again.

Touch his feet, woman! It’s now or never!

No , I will not, As I am a mother My heart seems to say I will not rise up And touch the newborn feet If I have to wait for a Million million eons I will wait, but touch now, I will not. For, that’s a tiny baby Already touched by rain And a heartless cold wind

And then, it happened Pink little feet alight with glory Peeped out from the basket, they Thrashed and thrashed until they Reached down and Touched my waiting waters, Cleaning away years of Sorrow and collected sin.

Blessed am I, for my waiting Has now been rewarded. And if ever you feel that My waters taste salty, be aware that They are but happy tears shed by a Simple river that glorious rainy night.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ Narensomu

Previously posted in blogspot and Sulekha.

.