The Revenge of Yamuna
For millions of years she has endured the ridicule, the abuse and the agony. Not anymore.
1.
Yamuna was older than most in the room, and larger, yet that didn’t seem to count. In fact maybe that was the problem. That she’d seen, known, and endured more than they could even begin to imagine. Maybe that’s why they kept away from her and didn’t include her in any of their games and parties.
‘Silly girls’, she thought. ‘Wait till you get to my age and then let me see you frolic around without a care in the world.’
They were at the annual festival of rivers where all the rivers that nourished the land were worshipped in a grand ceremony. The festival had existed since time immemorial and some of Yamuna’s earliest memories were of attending the ceremony with her twin brother, Yama. This is also the place where she’d first met Ganga.
Ganga was a little younger than her and had been born in the same neighbourhood as Yamuna. While Yamuna was an orphan, Ganga had been born into royalty and was the daughter of the mighty Parvatraj, the king of the Himalayas. Ganga was quiet and obedient, the very picture of perfection if ever there was one, whereas Yamuna had always been a wild child, fearless and unfettered.
Although Ganga’s parents didn’t approve of it, the difference in their stations hadn’t stopped Ganga from befriending her. That’d meant a lot to Yamuna and she had never forgotten it.
But things had changed and now Ganga seemed to have forgotten her. That the younger rivers kept to themselves didn’t bother her as much as the change in behaviour of her oldest friend.
2.
Being an orphan, especially one whose parentage wasn’t known, had made her extra-sensitive to the way people treated her and her brother. Growing up, they’d had to live with taunts and snide remarks that never allowed them to forget that their parents had forsaken them at birth.
“They were probably born of lust”, some would say.
“They don’t even know what caste they belong to”, some others would smirk at them.
Yama had learnt to live with these remarks but Yamuna refused to accept it as her fate. She never let any of these remarks go unanswered.
“We don’t need to take it lying down”, she would lash out at her brother whenever he asked her to control herself. “We are strong and capable and they need us more than we need them.”
She was right. Yama, although still young, was already widely regarded as one of the wisest in the community. Yamuna herself was a powerful river and the reason a large swathe of Bharat was fertile, flowing as she did, through the most populous parts of the land before subsuming herself into the waters of her friend, Ganga, who then became the largest river in the land.
She didn’t begrudge Ganga that. It wasn’t in her nature to do so. If she wanted to, she could’ve easily claimed that they call their union by her name. Didn’t she contribute more to the merged river than Ganga? Wasn’t it because of her that Ganga had become the pre-eminent river of the land?
Not many knew about it now, but for thousands of years since her birth, Yamuna had flowed west, into the river the ancients called Saraswati. Wise and demure, Saraswati kept to herself and quietly traveled down to the western seas. Yamuna regarded her highly and looked up to her as did everyone else. She had an immense capacity to listen and Yamuna took full advantage of it. She would unburden her heart to Saraswati, telling her about every slight and insult thrown her way.
Saraswati would sit silently with a look of compassionate understanding on her face. Once Yamuna was done with her outburst she would console her with words that calmed her soul. She knew exactly what needed to be said and how.
She was the only one Yamuna could open up to. Even though she was her friend, Ganga never really understood the pain and anguish Yamuna carried within her. They played games together, sang songs and danced gaily in the forests where no one was around and braided each other’s hair. They spoke of the people they’d met, places they’d been to and men they’d loved. They often spoke of their hopes, their dreams, their fears and their ambitions but at such times it was mostly Ganga who spoke. Yamuna kept quiet and listened for she feared being ridiculed for her dreams.
All the others who played with them — Alakananda, Mandakini, Saryu, Narmada, Kaveri, Mahanadi, Godavari, Gomti, Gandaki, Pindar and the rest — spoke about the same things. They had similar dreams, similar ambitions in life. Yamuna found no resonance of her thoughts in theirs and deemed it wise to keep quiet.
For her dreams were unlike theirs. She dreamed of merging with the sea one day. She’d listened to stories that Saraswati often told her — about the unending sea, the vast open skies, the horizon in the distance — and she longed to see these herself.
She wanted to flow unhindered.
3.
But men didn’t like rivers that flowed freely. They liked to dam them, curb their natural instincts, rein their desires in. She’d charted her own course since she was born but over time men had grown powerful.
They’d devised ways of controlling things bigger and greater than them. They’d figured out how to mend rivers to their own advantage. As they’d grown in strength so had they grown arrogant. Once upon a time they regarded the rivers as sacred. When the first humans had come to her shores, they’d bowed down and prayed to her. Some of them had broken down in tears. She’d felt sorry for them as they’d scooped handfuls of her waters and greedily slurped it. They’d settled down on her shores building their tiny straw huts next to each other. As time went by, more humans came and soon an entire civilization thrived on her banks.
The first time they cleared her bank of trees, it didn’t register but as their numbers grew she realized how self centered their species was. Entire forests were cleared to make way for fields that struggled to feed their growing population. Trees that’d stood undisturbed alongside her for ages were cut and burnt without any regard to the consequences that that would have on her health and that of forests and animals nearby. Not only that, they cut her sides and burrowed canals to take her waters away to till their fields.
Then one day some of them put up a few stones and tried to obstruct her path. She’d found it funny and blew away their puny dam with a slight nudge. It wasn’t funny when they came back with bigger stones and better technique. Irritated, she brushed them away again, this time taking a man with her to teach them a lesson.
Desist, is what she wanted to tell them.
But she’d underestimated them. They came back, now better prepared and in bigger numbers, and this time they managed to stem her. She’d struggled hard, pushed against it with all her might, but the barrier had stood. They’d done what no one before them had been able to. They’d bound her forcefully and she could do nothing.
Others had laughed at her when it’d happened.
“Look how the humans have bound her”, quacked those who were yet to face the wrath of the humans.
“She deserved it didn’t she, for prancing around like that, not heeding our warnings”, said another.
“A river needs to follow the course laid out for her. She’s not supposed to deviate from what’s ordained for her”, opined another.
Little did they realize that the days of rivers flowing freely, were well and truly in the past. For millennia they’d jumped and skipped and sprung and leaped wherever they pleased but now, it was the age of the humans, and that was to be the end of life as they’d known. One by one, all of them were dammed and soon, rivers flowed only where they were allowed to.
4.
Sitting alone in a corner that day, Yamuna was getting restless. She missed Saraswati.
“If only I could apologize to her once”, she thought. But not even a big powerful river like her could turn time around. She’d lived with guilt every single moment of her life since that fateful day many eons ago.
Much like today it was a day when all the rivers had gathered at the very same place for the annual ceremony to be worshipped by the elders. All of them, except Saraswati who was delayed, were sitting on the raised mound waiting for the rituals to start. Since she was the eldest, the ceremony always started with Saraswati. Every eye was turned to the west but there was no sign of her. Even Yamuna didn’t know what’d held her up. She’d never known Saraswati to be late and wondered if something was wrong. A couple of young ones were dispatched to check up on her.
Ganga had never been good at waiting and this was embarrassing. When it was noon and Saraswati hadn’t turned up she walked up to the elders and made her case.
“Why don’t we start the rituals and when she comes, she can join in? You can start with me.”
No sooner had she said that, then the entire hall burst into laughter. The elders couldn’t help but be amused at her insolence.
“You are just a kid”, said the eldest priest, amidst peals of laughter. “She’s the oldest and most powerful of you all. Go and sit on your seat.”
Ganga had to suffer their jokes and laughter the rest of the day. Saraswati arrived soon and the ceremony started but the die had been cast and Ganga could never recover from the humiliation and embarrassment she’d endured that day. Except Yamuna, no one noticed how deep the barbs had stuck. She knew her friend was not one to forget and forgive easily and hoped that time would heal things.
But it only became worse as time passed. She’d become the butt of jokes and wherever she went they laughed at her, making sure she never forgot that day. This kept the humiliation alive and burning and Ganga was never the same again.
One day when they were alone, Ganga broke down.
“I can’t go on like this”, she said, amidst sobs.
“Don’t cry, my dear”, said Yamuna, as she tried consoling her.
“Only you can help me now”, said Ganga. Surprised, Yamuna wondered what she could do to resolve the situation.
“I’ll do anything I can to help you”, she promised nonetheless, without asking what Ganga had in her mind.
“Promise?” said Ganga, looking up at her with her large bulbous eyes.
“Yes I do”, said Yamuna, firmly. She was eager to alleviate her friend’s misery. ‘There’s nothing I won’t do for her’, she thought.
Ganga wiped her tears and taking Yamuna’s hands in her own, said the words that were to change the course of Yamuna’s life forever.
“Leave Saraswati and join me.” It took a while for the words to sink in and when they did Yamuna’s face lost its colour.
She couldn’t do that. She simply couldn’t. She’d been with Saraswati all her life. When no one would take her in, Saraswati had been kind enough to give her shelter. She’d guided her through all the ups and downs of those early years. She’d calmed her with soothing words and counseled her with her timeless wisdom.
“Can you do that for me?” asked Ganga, pressing her hands as she did so.
No, she couldn’t do it.
Doing so would mean betraying Saraswati and the trust she placed on her. And more than that, doing so would mean killing Saraswati for she depended on Yamuna to replenish her every summer with the melting ice from the Himalayas. She was the biggest tributary of Saraswati and there was no way Saraswati could survive if she ditched her. Killing a river was a sin and killing Saraswati, who regarded her as her younger sister, would be unpardonable.
She didn’t want to but she’d made a promise.
“She won’t be able to live without me”, pleaded Yamuna, “and killing a river is a sin.”
“No, she’s big and there are others to supplement her”, said Ganga. “She won’t die without you but I will.”
“No, you won’t”, said Yamuna, her eyes widening as she gauged Gang’s intentions.
“Yes, I will”, said Ganga firmly. “I can’t take this humiliation any more. If you don’t do it, I’ll end my life.”
She meant it. Yamuna could see it in her eyes.
She’d sat there a long while debating the decision with herself. Ganga kept prodding her and left her with no option.
She had to do it.
5.
It was a slow painful death for Saraswati. Over the course of next few decades, she went from being a massive torrent of gushing water to being a trickle before eventually disappearing in the encroaching sands of the desert that had grown around her. Yamuna was forced to watch her die, one drop at a time. Saraswati never complained, nor accused her of betrayal, but those pale, weary eyes of hers dug deep into Yamuna’s soul every time they met. The last time she’d seen her, Saraswati had smiled. The smile hurt, and even today, it continued to mock Yamuna.
But things were looking up otherwise. Ganga took her everywhere. She was by her side at every event, at every ceremony, at every festival. Yamuna was happy that she’d finally found acceptance in the community, something she’d always longed for. People now looked up to her. Alongside Ganga, she became the most revered river in the land. They built temples for her. Gods resided on her banks. They wrote poems extolling her virtues. It was a heady time.
But that was all in the past. A loud cackle broke her reverie. She saw them, the others, looking at her and giggling. They were pointing towards her and whispering.
She knew what it was about. Every time she looked at herself she saw it. Where once she could see herself clearly in her own crystal clear waters, now she could barely look at herself without a feeling of disgust overcoming her. She’d borne the brunt of generations of humans washing their dirt in her waters. Not that she was the only one to be sullied thus by humans but she was the worst affected.
Town after town emptied its bowels into her, treating her like a giant trash can. For centuries she’d faced her destiny bravely but it’d gotten worse since they’d started building those huge poison spewing factories on her banks. They drained her of her waters and in return gifted her with dark, smelly viscous liquids that killed every living creature living inside her. Crocodiles had long vanished and lately even the fishes had stopped breeding. These poisonous chemicals made her weak, suffocating and killing her slowly, one drop at a time. The many diseases she suffered had aged her well before her time. Not just that, her skin had peeled off in places and her face was now covered with ugly dark patches and boils that threatened to burst any instance.
6.
“Why don’t you do something?” Ganga had asked her once. She’d covered her nose and a look of disgust had swept over her face.
“About what?” Yamuna had asked.
“About this”, she’d said, pointing to the muck on Yamuna. “You’ve turned into a sewer and you are contaminating me as well.”
A sewer? Did she really use that word?
Didn’t she suffer from the same problem as her? Weren’t those pests, humans, to blame for dirtying her too? They had left no stone unturned in their quest for ‘more’. Yet, Ganga had chosen to blame her.
They hadn’t spoken since that day. Yamuna had no one else to turn to. Saraswati was gone. Even Yama wasn’t around now. He’d long shifted to the netherworld leaving his sister alone and they’d met intermittently over the eons. She’d grown used to the solitude enforced on her by her circumstances. But what she couldn’t get used to was how everyone around disregarded her. She was no mountain stream, she was the mighty Yamuna. Yet they’d turned her in to a sewer.
A SEWER!
She repeated the word again and again till there was nothing else she could hear. It echoed in her mind blocking everything else out. She’d never slept peacefully ever since.
7.
Someone blew the conch. It was time. The ceremony was about to start. She got up and started moving towards the dais. Others, led by Ganga also made a beeline to the front. Yamuna sat in her usual position at the center and waited as the rest filed in. None of them threw so much as a glance at her and simply walked past to their positions. She saw Ganga walking towards her along with her coterie. They kept whispering amongst themselves as they walked up.
Ganga stopped a few feet from where she sat. The elders were all ready to start the ceremony and all eyes rested on Ganga. She turned to the chief priest who sat behind the ritual fire, bowed to him and spoke in his ears. The priest looked surprised but his face soon regained its composure. He sat there looking grim, thinking for a few seconds, as the entire crowd waited for the ceremony to begin.
Before long, he got up and walked to Yamuna.
“Can you move to the end of the line?”
The words fell on her ears like hot wax. Yamuna couldn’t believe the temerity of that priest. Neither could the crowd for a hushed silence fell over the entire gathering.
Yamuna didn’t move.
“Devi, I request you to move to the end of the line.” It was more an order than a request. Despite her anger, Yamuna knew it was Ganga speaking via the priest. She turned to her old friend who looked away to evade her piercing gaze.
“I am Yamuna, one of the oldest and mightiest of all rivers to flow on this land of yours. How dare you insult me like this?” Her voice, sharp and steady, sent a shiver down the priest’s spine. Speechless, he turned to Ganga as did the entire crowd, who took her time before speaking out.
“You stink. The smell, I can’t take it. I can’t sit beside you anymore.”
Yamuna could feel her heart beat faster. Murmurs broke out in the crowd.
“You’ve long ceased to be a mighty river”, Ganga continued. “All you are now, is a glorified sewer, carrying dirt and shit downstream, polluting everything that comes in the way.”
It stung. Tears swelled out of her eyes, flowing down her cheeks. Yamuna could feel everyone staring at her, smiling… giggling… smirking. She felt exposed. Naked. Ganga’s words thrashed against her body like lashes, leaving wounds all over.
“It’s embarrassing. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Yamuna looked up at Ganga whose eyes glared with fury at her. She couldn’t understand what she’d done to deserve her scorn. Her eyes scanned the room. The faces all merged into each other. The priest stood next to her unable to meet her gaze, his face turned towards his feet.
No one moved for what seemed like eternity. At long last Yamuna gathered herself and with one final glance at her old friend, she left.
8.
But the words didn’t leave her. She continued to be tormented by them.
How had things come to such a pass? How could everyone forget who she was and treat her like she was an inconsequential stream?
As she walked back up to where she’d begun her life, she saw yet again what humans had done to her. She saw the dirty slime that floated over her waters. She saw them throw plastic bags. She saw the big plants empty their foamy liquid waste into her. She saw millions of them sitting alongside her banks relieving themselves, using her to wash themselves clean while dirtying her.
This has continued for way too long.
She felt suffocated. She found it difficult to walk up the hills. The diseases the pollution had left her with were finally acting up. She sat down, unable to go any further. Suddenly, after all these years, she found herself feeling old.
Saraswati’s smiling face swam in front of her eyes. Overwhelmed with guilt she collapsed on the ground.
It’s her. It’s all because of what I did to her.
But the next instant a voice inside her head refuted that claim.
No, it’s those humans. They’ve destroyed everything.
Yes, that was true. Everything was good till they’d come along. Even though no one worshipped her, she’d been happy without them around. Everyone had been. They could do as they please. The other animals didn’t obstruct them, didn’t defile them.
They need to be taught a lesson.
She felt an indescribable rage rise somewhere deep within her. It pounded the walls of her veins seeking an outlet. Her waters rose up and down in anger.
If they don’t need me, I’ll leave. But not without showing them what I am capable of.
A feeling long suppressed finally found a voice. She didn’t know who she was more angry with, Ganga, herself, or those humans. It didn’t matter. What mattered was what she was going to do next.
9.
It started soon after. A loud roar was heard in the distance. It was as if a thousand elephants shrieked in rage beyond the hills. Humans who lived on the edges of the river woke up and came out. There was nothing amiss but the noise was ominous. They looked at each other with bewilderment, fear writ large in their eyes. Distressed by the sound, birds flew around in circles, adding their voices to the cacophony. Animals joined in and the forests seemed to resound with their voices.
It was getting closer. They knew it was her, the river. The waters were now turbulent and had started to froth.
It came all at once. A large wave rose high up and splashed down on them. They had no time to run and save themselves. In a few seconds there was water everywhere. The banks couldn’t contain the deluge. Whatever stood in front of the waters was swept away from sight and entire houses floated on that great body of water like leaves torn asunder.
She rushed down the hills, gathering pace as she did so. She tore everything that lay in her path. Huts and building, schools and temples, banks and markets, villages and towns, roads and factories, whatever she encountered was dashed to the ground by her tremendous force. Nothing could stop her.
The massive dams that humans had erected to impede her flow were brushed aside like puny toys. For long she’d played the game, but no more. She came down hard on those factories that lined her banks and poisoned her waters. Wave after wave of her unfiltered fury knocked the steel and concrete off the ground and sprayed them in a million uneven deposits along her now redundant banks. She thundered down with all her force and swept the land with every last drop of her waters. Thousands of men, who’d never thought twice before defiling her, paid for their sins. She didn’t care, they’d bought it upon themselves.
As she raced down she ran into large cities that had grown out of her womb. In a matter of minutes they were turned into large watery graveyards, submerged within her waters. Town after town succumbed to her divine wrath.
At long last she reached the sea, her muddy, frothy energetic waters pushing against its unending pale blueness. They embraced each other like long lost sisters, falling raucously in each other’s arms, kissing each other and crying, unable to control their emotions. Her dream had finally come true.
Yamuna was exhausted and had nothing left in her to continue. Neither did she want to. She knew Saraswati awaited her, wherever she was. As she lay by the sea breathing her last, she could sense destruction all around her. She didn’t know if it would teach humans to treat nature better but she hoped that it would make them aware of the immense pain and suffering that awaited them if they continued down the path they’d chosen.
Overcome with exhaustion, she lay there quietly for a while. The anger was now gone, in its place was a peaceful calmness.
And then she closed her eyes.
The mighty Yamuna was gone. Forever!
The planet had lost yet another river.
