THE RIVER
DR. K. SRINIVAS SASTRY
THE RIVER flows through the city
Beneath the bridge and beside the temple
Rolling with laughs and rippling with tears
Singing with joy and raging with wrath
Through the ages
No one knows its sources
When it first flowed into the world
There was no city, no bridge, no temple
With the passage of time a city was built there
Where diverse races and religions met and mingled
Floods and famines forced the engineers
To build a bridge above the irrepressible river
To harness it for human comfort
The market-place in the city draws countless customers
Scholars and laymen, lawyers and liars
Swindlers and philanthropists, sinners and saints
Deception and self-deception are the everyday routine there
The citizens have another meeting-place-the temple
Wherein the Supreme who has been carved into an icon is confined
Whom they visit at their intermittent convenience
Many with a pretension to prayer and a passion for heaven
Few to lose themselves in speechless surrender
The city had crumbled and was raised again
The bridge had cracked and was repaired
The market-place betrays its history of ups and downs
The temple tells its tale of loss and recovery
The river is different
It flows without touching the banks of mortality
Keeping unruffled through calm and storm
Resting on the bed of truth
THE RIVER is both life-giver and death-dealer