Peaceful Waves, Sudden Gulps, Respects offered, Sights Drawn.
Here, Is the River of Life taking in those without lives, taking in their souls, their memories, their everything.
Maybe that’s why a river comes back to life each year, from living as a trickle to creating floods.
Maybe It lives because it has so many lives within it; Lives, Memories, Everything.
- This is a short poem that I wrote on the banks of the Cauvery river about the rituals of pouring the ashes of the departed ones in the rivers of India.