Rivers of past

50000 BCE:

“Yamini, Yamini what are you doing come back she is in bad mood today”.

Words of maa forced yamini to retract her advancing gallops down hillocks, she was huffing and puffing but furiously she was leaping upwards swiftly, from corner of her eyes she could see the rage galloping furiously.

Dhruv was visible now, but was almost alone, faint ones were not visible, clouds were playfully around him, but not for long, he was engulfed now, heavy clouds were swaying dangerously.

‘They can burst any time - should I go inside ?’. Yamini was restless, she had twisted and turned several times, the visuals of fury were deeply ingrained in her thoughts. 

Every now and then her steady thoughs were drifting away. She was prisoner of her witnessed mighty fury. 

She turned more and could still see white raging anger, “this is not normal, I have never seen her so angry”.

She is raging down everything in sight, how mightily she embraced that wide “I need to question her” she must be nearby, “I need to rush”.

Barely managing to stay still, heavy downpour was shifting earth beneath her.

Gushing waters was gathering momentum with every descent.

Should I ask now, the vagaries of nature has emboldened Yamini, she was forcefully keeping herself stable, with every lightning strike, her slender yet curved frame was gleaming, her divine statuette was perfect for sculptor to carve out another masterpiece.

There was nothing much to hold volley of piercing and heavy drops. Pores have oozed out, heavy bunch of pitch dark hairs have coiled serpently.

Yamini striked her spear hard in loose earth, on firm yet shaky tripod she leaned forward.

Lightning strikes again, her feminine self revealed - stunning is lesser elucidation.

“O Saraswati why you are so angry, why you are frothing so hard, O mighty you have already swallowed banks on which my forefathers wrote hymns in your reverence, O devi I bow before you to forgive us for our deeds. O beauty O maa forgive us”

“|| ambitame nadeetame devitame sarasvati ||
|| aprashastaa iva smasi prashastimamba naskrudhi ||  
`O Sarasvati, you the best of mothers, the best of rivers, the best of gods ! Although we are of no repute, mother, grant us distinction’ ”

Droplets have started thinning down, sky has just opened up, shy rays of saffron hues have started gleaming faintly.

Devoid of darkness, Dhruv was searching for Yamini, bank's of Saraswati has expanded, the land was not visible till horizon.

Saraswati has turned east. 

Far away near sandbanks, dunes were eclectic, air from north has was carrying fragrance of Saraswati.

Quiet tears roll down dhruv’s tired eyes, Yamini’s’ spear was floating aimlessly amidst silent waters of Saraswati.

Chapter 1: Legends of Lost River.

Written on: 14th September 2018