Samrudhdi Kerkar
Some of the most enchanting sounds in the world are made by water—the gurgle of a river like a young girl’s anklets, the soothing murmur as it flows, the meditative sigh of ocean waves, the roar of waterfalls, the soft trickle from a rooftop, and the playful pitter-patter of rain.
Water has fascinated me for as long as I can remember—as it often does for the young and the young at heart.
Summer, though scorching, is when we long most for its cool touch and calming presence.
We waited eagerly for its arrival—when all our cousins would gather and head to the river for a refreshing dip.
Just beyond our backyard flows a river named Kalti. On quiet nights, as I sit on the balcony and the world goes still, its gentle lullaby rises through the silence, soothing my soul.
As a child, I’d visit the river daily with kaki. While she washed clothes, I sat on a boulder, scrubbing colourful stones and watching their hues swirl into the current. Tiny fish tickled my toes as I dipped them in; when I pulled them out, they gleamed—clean, smooth, like a natural pedicure gifted by the river.
During summer vacations, rivers became our playground. We raced through the water, held our breath underwater, or caught fish with light nets—only to release them moments later. Days of simple joy, cradled in the arms of Mother River.
Some days, baba took us to the Mhadei, to the magical waters of Sonal or Uste—outings that felt like festivals. Even those who couldn’t swim found joy in the shallows under his watchful eye. Occasionally, we’d boat across Mayem Lake, surrounded by nature’s stillness. And for my grandmother, summer wasn’t complete without letting a saltwater wave wash over her feet—she believed it healed.
Water, in all its forms, nourishes, heals, and uplifts. It is the sacred elixir of the Green God. We must protect it—keep it clean and let it flow free.
Sadly, we’re losing touch with this bond. Rivers are treated as dumping grounds, forced to carry our waste and squeezed through obstacles we create. We dam and divert them, believing we are in control.
But water is boundless, resilient, and beyond domination. We pollute and waste it, only to suffer the consequences. Nature heals, but we will pay for our carelessness.
Another growing concern is drowning. Many enter rivers under the influence or without caution, trying to prove their strength—only to meet tragedy.
A river is like a mother—nurturing and sustaining. Her love is vast, but we must meet it with humility and care.
If we can restore our connection with nature—with reverence and responsibility—our future will carry her grace, her blessings, and lasting joy.
