AND WHEN THE RIVER DIES

(Dedicated to World Elder Abuse Awareness Day, June 15) 

She would grind some betel nuts, and then settle herself under the moonlight! We would surround her with expectation of another tale best enough to put us to a wonderful slumber. A night was incomplete without her chats! We preferred her narration to the television, because we could have voluntary recap of our favourite episodes of Grandma's Tales. Sometimes mothers would sit behind us to have a taste of Bezbaruah's tales flavoured with Grandma's recipe of sweet narration. Stories of camouflaged snakes, greedy brahmins and cursed princes were the best gifts. Interestingly there were intermissions too. She would take a two-minute break two times, once during the middle of the 30 minute tale and the other just at the climax. The last break was her strategy perhaps, to allow us to expand our imagination as to what would happen next. I feel our silly questions on why the prince disappeared, how the frog could have powers and why the stepmother hurt her daughter, amused her the most. She derived the best entertainment out of those innocent FAQs, and would feel pleased.

She once told the tale of a river that was cared upon by the people of the village. The river was the people's hope and they did their best not to disturb or pollute it. One summer, there were no rains, and the river died due to lack of water. This saddened the villagers; they could not bear the death of their Mother, and so decided to fill the river by bringing water from the nearest village. They worked hard: men and women equally carried gallons on their backs and filled the little river. The River Goddess then appeared, and told them that She was happy at the love of the people even when She hadn't been there. 

Today, when I recall the tale, I sometimes feel, and am quite amazed to realize that in the tale, our Grandma is the river herself, and we all her little audience, the villagers. She meant that even when the river would die, love and respect should remain in the hearts of us. 

And so, when the river dies, there should be a fairy tale of good deeds in everyone's life... 

[NOTE: Bezbaruah in this piece refers to the legendary Assamese poet and author, Lakshminath Bezbaruah whose writings are contemporary even today, and without whom, we would not have grown.]