Today, when the day dawned, “Sindhu” came rushing towards me and
started whispering something into my left ear. Following is what her whispers
spoke about.
“O son of Indus Valley Civilization, do you know who am I?” said
Sindhu. Following an unusual whisper, having lost my head, because of feeling
giddy and still being sleepy, I could not respond to the whisper I heard.
A smoky, muddy watery image started to occasionally appear and disappear in
front of my eyes. It almost seemed infinite in its magnitude. Having known the
helplessness within me, the whisper again continued, “Relax, remain in your bed
and listen. People of Sindh call me Sindhu (One of the names for River Indus). Iam
thousands of years old river with thousands of names in several regions of the
Asia including Tibet, Northern India, Lake Mansarover, Ladakh, Jammu &
Kashmir, Giligit, Baltistan and Arabian Sea. I have a total drainage area
exceeding 1,165,000 km2. I have an annual flow of around 207 km3. Out
of all the names given to me, I love the one and only that is, “Sindhu”. The
love with the name exists since my existence and journey of thousands of miles
ends up here in Sindh, the land of peace. “Sindhu” makes me all smiles and in
return I spread smiles for indigenous people there.
When peace-loving innocent fisher folks of Sindh arrive at my
banks, I find a sight for my sour eyes. This is because during my journey
through various parts of the continent, I suffer. I suffer because of dams
being built at my very eyes. I suffer since people who are addicted to power
stop my natural flow; stop me to come to Sindh with all my heart. My heart
hurts when my waves can’t dance. My heart bleeds when my water is put under the
siege of deadly dams that intend to snatch bread and butter of the people who I
feed. Due to all this, sometimes I feel to have been sent behind the bars for
Iam barred from reaching at my coast where mal-nourished and underprivileged
fisher folks await my arrival with their boats, shanty homes and flags.
Dear Son, this all is not new to me. This all had been happening
since times immemorial. Iam neither defeated nor dead. Never was I and never
shall I be! But I want you to give my word to my people in Sindh. Tell them to
continue their untiring efforts for my well-being. Tell them that I rejuvenate
when they unite to fight for my waters, when they sloganeer, when they hoist
their flags bearing my name, when they rally in my waters to tell my enemies
that death of their polluted vested interests is their destiny.
Dear Son of the Indus Valley civilization, one last word. Do
tell them that their struggle blesses me with thousands of more years of life.
Tell them their fight makes me immortal...!”
With all this awe-inspiring morning, I got up, picked my pen and
started to put this precious happening on paper to be later on shared with the
one for whom it was meant to be conveyed to...!
Courtesy by Roshan Bhatti, Associate Member Pakistan Fisherfolk Forum
March 09-014
