Rhapsody along rivers
By Rajnish Wattas

Hills of the North, rejoice:
Rivers and mountain-spring.
Hark to the advent voice!
Valley and lowland, sing!

— Charles E Oaklay!

DO rivers sing? I think they do, if you listen to them. In my rambles along rivers, I have savoured their sounds — ranging from turbulence to or even a mystic, silence.

Rivers have their moods. They can be noisy and bubbly like a hill stream or lazy and languid, when in the plains. You strike a sympathetic chord with their tumult and travails, as they carve their ways through arduous, narrow gorges and steep crevices, to come down thundering as water falls. And then a gentle musical trill in the meadows.

Their colours also change. They can be pure white, crystalline waters in the higher ranges and muddy and turbid in the plains. Strike a camaraderie with these nature’s watery delights and you not only discover yourself anew; but also the perennial river of life.

Like many others, I have often taken the river routes — even if a little longer — on my voyages of discovery in the hills, as they are always more panoramic. And have been rewarded with the rhapsody which only river rambling can provide.

My most memorable journey has been along the Sutlej. The legendary Hindustan-Tibet road in Himachal Pradesh hugs the riverbank for many miles. As one crosses Kumarsain along this highway, just before Rampur Bushair, one gets the first glimpse of the river. It slinks its way through hills that are almost denuded; its waters are muddy, but the flow is rapid. Also, one is rewarded by the sight of numerous hill torrents and water falls, disgorging their waters into the majestic river. At one point, you see huge giant-sized boulders settled right in the middle of the river, slicing its flow. But the most awesome sight is after you cross Juree, whence the road detours to the pristine Bhimkali temples. There the Sutlej passes through a deep gorge. Stop the car and look down at the silvery waters of the river; it glides and meanders its way, like a huge serpent. Face-to-face with such awesome might of nature, man indeed looks puny. When you take the wheel again, make sure not to look towards the steep gorge, lest you get vertigo!

The Beas in contrast has one of the purest white waters; at least till it reaches Aut valley, beyond Bhuntar. As its origin is the high altitude Beas Kund glacier, on the road to the Rohtang Pass, its waters are crystal clear, emanating from the molten snows. Gradually from a hill stream, it widens into a beautiful river at Manali. Wading its way through strewn boulders and dense forests, it is very picturesque, notwithstanding the garbage littering hordes of tourists. The drive from Manali to Naggar along its banks is one of the most beautiful as it passes through apple orchards and old timber and slate-roofed hamlets. And when it enters into the plains of Punjab, it bloats into a wide ocean of muddy waters with islands and sandbars dotting its course.

Both the Beas and the Ravi take birth from the high peaks of the Pir Panjal range. If Kulu is the gift of the Beas, then Chamba is a gift of the Ravi. To savour the beauty of Ravi, it is best to drive along it, from Banikhet to Chamba. The road serpentines through large valleys, dotted with terraced paddy fields and pine forests. But it stays along the deep blue waters of the Ravi, often clouded with mists and haze; especially if it has just rained. On the way you run into numerous small shrines of hill devtas and devis, lifting you to the lofty plane of nature and gods. But you also come across plenty of hill Dhabas, enabling you a much welcomed cup of tea, and also a pause to soak in the splendour of the river. It is never in a hurry, and seems to contemplate its course of journey from the sky-touching peaks to a confluence with the infinite sea.

Near Chamba town it is adorned with an old steel bridge, giving the city its most conspicuous landmark. Later at night, when I was musing in my snug, warm bed of the PWD resthouse, located right on the banks of the river, I could hear its gentle roar.

Yes, the sound of rivers always stays with me. It’s a rhapsody which drowns the tumult of mundane life.