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.

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Narensomu

Previously posted in blogspot and Sulekha.

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