Yagachi

We went to Hassan to see an Industry Park by the river Yagachi.

Yagachi flows into Hemavathi, who flows into Kaveri, who flows into the Bay of Bengal. She is a river I don’t know. I grew up with Kaveri, goddess to South Indians, giver of all our needs. I have spent much time by her banks. Downstream from a bend, I have watched her come turning round with speed, alert, energetic, her muscles and sinews flowing, rippling with a gentleness that yet suggested great power. On the banks palms and other trees would bend and touch her, giving and taking caresses, trees, plants and river uniting, all one, and I alone was apart, looking at the whole of them. She was beautiful, and possessed such majesty, she was unmistakably mother; a detached mother who came at me and flowed away, never stopping for me, and it was always up to me to take what I wanted from her.

Yagachi looked as rivers look now. Too much has been asked of her, and she has given. She has given too much. Now this goddess has no thigh, no hip, no breast. We stood on a parapet and watched. No one wished to dive into her bones.

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