Haroon Rashid Bhat
“Mounds of garbage and polythene bags became my fate. If such ill-treatment goes on, I will die, and the future generation may find my name in history books as ‘once upon a time a beautiful stream/canal was flowing through our village known as the Mavas.”
I don’t know my actual date of birth, but I used to hear the stories of the past from the village elders who often spent their leisure time on my shoulders under the shaded trees planted on either side of my body by the foresighted people. According to them, my birth took place in the foothills of Mahadev -Mountain since the time unknown. Right from the first day, I am flowing all along through the dense forest of the Dachigam National Sanctuary; touching the boundaries of many villages. I got my name after Lakshmi Mavas who developed me into the full-fledged Irrigational canal.I infused new hope and life to agriculture activities, turning barren land into green gold, and finally merging into the famous Dal Lake.For a moment, when I recall my glorious days of the past, it brings a smile to my face, but my present irks me a lot. I am very familiar with the days when there were no public water posts available in villages, and I alone fulfilled the water requirements of neighboring localities. Those were the happy days when the local women of any age or newly bride approached me with a clay pitcher on their heads to fetch water to fulfill their domestic needs, washing their clothes, and sharing movements of joy or grief on my shoulders -Banks. I received all of them with an open heart. I quenched the thirst of many without asking about their social or religious background. God-fearing people purified their bodies before entering into a masjid for prayer.
During the hottest days of summer, young, and old, kids refresh themselves by taking a dip into my lap, and I never disappointed them. Even the attitude of the concerned government departments remains hostile towards me. Recently construction agency narrowed down my belly-width to give the random width of the road; constructing many culverts created suffocation for me. This all is happening in the name of development. Gone are the days, when my beautiful body drew the attention of many writers and poets, I became the source of inspiration for them, and they portrayed me beautifully in their writings. Honestly speaking, my life was safe in the hands of those who were living in Kacha-Houses, not having a rich literary background. They sustained my life, but I fear my existence now because the present generation, who considered themselves as highly educated and modern, faded my beauty and maligned my face. They put an extra burden on me by constructing a big concrete building on my shoulders -Banks. There are no more shady trees now. Mounds of garbage and polythene bags became my fate. If such ill-treatment goes on, I will die, and the future generation may find my name in history books as ‘once upon a time a beautiful stream/canal was flowing through our village known as the Mavas. I am not the only victim of this changing environment. Other water bodies – rivers, canals, streams, lakes, springs, etc are facing the same problem. Who will defend our stand to ensure our sustainability?
Haroon Rashid Bhat is a Teacher and can be mailed at minamharoon123@gmail.com
