The river

High on the view of the sandy river, the trees squatted along a mossy wall ,open-eyed and shaking with curiosity.Through the river view, mild winds evaporated a brown sand that mirrored a strange world holding a moment of the trees. A house loomed on the horizon with a half vehicle parked before it respectfully.It seems a certain German had made a fetish of making beauty out of a laterite terrain that boasted two rivers, between them at a sisterly distance of twenty five kilometers.

A park named after him had to be re-named after the white Caucasians left the place and it was duly named after a free country’s prime minister who had been named after a certain river canal of Kashmir. Lameyer loved steel and flowers. And rivers with hot sand.He made much out of them.

Nothing burned at Burnpur. Only there was a certain Burn of Martin Burns fame whose name it bore after the old name of diamond town went away from people’s memory.The park rose high on everyone’s agenda, the park of Lameyer, the German who loved terraces of flower gardens along the river bank.

The question arose whether Damodar was a male river or a female.It was finally settled it was a male river. How could it be a female river when it turns so violent in monsoon and destructive to people? But now the river is tamed by five dams in the valley.It is sad river,a sorrowful one river with large vacant stretches.

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