Three Gangas

Rivers carry stories more than we know

Apart from resilience, swift and meandering.

At Buxar, she's just a river 

Flowing next to a small town-

Making the town famous for ghat rites.

Different ghats for different purposes-

To celebrate life, to celebrate festivals,

And to celebrate death- the one mom took me to

On the first outing in this new town- Buxar.

It remained in my heart,

Never as a bad memory, just another memory.

Apart from the flood news and overflowing lines of danger,

I was unaware of her sacred magnificent existence.

Until I saw her at Haridwar.

As if the person treated so ordinarily 

Has accessorized and I could not stop gazing.

The first look of the bride or the groom,

When you're used to their ordinary outfits?

Something similar.

Surprised at the personality development-

At peak, I cried out of joy.

I've known her and she's evolved, like me

She's respected, adored, worshipped, and loved here

Like me, who was loved in the city of Shiva.

She beams with life in the mountains.

Full of curves and shades of blues

As if she's the little sister to nature 

Protected, loved, and nurtured at home 

Only to end up enchanting other cities of India.

Not that she's limited to anything-

She's more than just my verse for her.

Beyond one perspective, beyond one reality.

I'm growing older, but not enough 

To have witnessed her at Varanasi, yet

Stranger to her eighty-four versions including Manikarnika.