once upon a river

the water in the river is unbelievably low. I don't remember seeing the river in this condition even when I used to visit the village in the summer vacations in school or college. My mom commented the other day that one day it will be written story books that "once upon a time there was a river by whose banks there was a village..." if I have to believe what I see and if it continues like this, that day shouldn't be too far away.

In the evening, I picked up the camera and walked towards the river. I walked down from the bank towards where the water was touching the shore. I saw a couple of boats anchored up, waiting for the next high tide to set sailing again. The river didn't seem too deep in the middle and I saw a few people crossing it at one point on foot. I picked up my slippers in one hand, hung the camera bag around my next and walked into the water. Feeling the river bed with my feet, checking for quicksand, I slowly approached the other bank (which, by the way also had retreated quite far from the shore). I put my slippers down on the wet ground and turned around to see the village and the river from the other side. A childlike joy swept my heart and I wanted to cross the river over and over again. A few kids from the 'other' side came running and started playing with the water. The sun setting behind them created an almost perfect backdrop. I wondered why all my evenings cant be like this...why most of my evenings are spent staring at a laptop screen showing some insignificant numbers and letters. I stood in ankle-deep water and stayed there taking random pictures, till I felt the water moving. The river was on the rise and the high tide was approaching. Though I wanted to stick around a little longer but it was more sensible to reach safer grounds before it gets too dark or too deep. Back home the mud on my feet and wet clothes told all the story and I could tell that not everybody was amused with my little adventurous tryst.

After dinner we went back to the riverside again. This time, Mrs Adda, a cousin, uncle and aunt were along. We just kept strolling on what once used to be the football field of the village. With moon being the only source of light that night, the late night stroll was nothing less than heavenly. There were occasional sounds of humming which slowly turned into tagore songs under the open sky. Carefully chosen songs sung with absolute amateurism followed each other and took us to a different world. Walking randomly on the field, we totally lost track of time and didn't realize till my dad came with a torch, looking for us. Nobody was ready to go home just yet and like small kids, we turned around and started walking briskly in the opposite direction, not for long though.

Well, did I mention that electricity supply is very limited in the village and domestic electricity reached the village just about 15 years or so ago? One thing I like about the place it is so remote and rustic, it almost seems unreal.