As pristine waters of Ganga move quietly into the foot-hill holy town Rishikesh
moment after moment amid chanting of mantras and noisy aarti , I watch the din and throb of white and saffron -clad spiritualists from across the globe on the fore-lawns and front of the Swarga Ashram and ponder over the indiscernible movement of each drop of water which persistently kisses the weather-beaten stand stones and moves over
to its onward journey to Ganga Sagar.
A line from the high school poem ”MEN MAY GO AND MEN MAY COME BUT I WILL GO ON FOR EVER” invariably strikes my mind . This line of a poem
I can see written on the white waters as I look intently into the flow. ..How many times, how many times, have I sat on the bank watching the crossing currents of whitewater fading away moment after moment .Tomorrow again I shall peep into the river with a thought that infinite drops have already kissed the sandstone ashramn embankment crossed over to next phase of onward journey ever since I sat there last. What disturbs me most often is the sure merger of the pure drop in to dirt and squalor on its long arduous journey. R P NAILWAL ,JUNE92008
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