Dear Reader,
I am walking down the hospital
It is the manalsu river, named after the ancient sage manu, the same sage manali is named after. But today the river is different to anything i’ve ever see before – Gone are its ice icy green glass. Instaad it’s a Roiling, Broiling, Seering Sea of Mud Straining Against Its Bank, Rumbling with Uneasy Undertones.
“The river is angry”, say the man at the bakery. “The manalsu doesn’t Get angry, but this time things have gone too far.”
On my return home as I cross the bridge over the manalsu, I look down against at the river and feel fear. I think back to a book about rivers that have been haunting me ever since I read it. The Author, The Famed Naturalist Robert Macfarlane Travels to Three Different Continents to Journey Along the paths of different rivers. In India, in Chennai, He Travels With the Activist Yuvan Aves (also Author of the Amazing Intertidal) To seek out the rivers long buried under the concrete of cities. Macfarlane Titles His Book ‘Is a river alive?’
And yes, this river, the manalsu, is not just alive, it is angry. It is burdened and out of its depth. Further downstream, Less than a km away it will meet the river beas, adding to its swollen watters. Deforestation and Debris Dumping by Builders has increased the Silt in these rivers. To add to this the beas river has died its river bed encroached by builders and by projects to widen the roads. Today, Together these rivers will take in bot authorized and unauthorized structures- tea stalls, shacks, whole stretches of road.
As the Rain Increases, I Hurry Back. Everywahere Water Gushes Down the Hillsides, down the nallis and gullies, turning the streets into streams. By the time I get home, my boots are full of water and my rucksack soaked through. The bread is a sodden message. Putting it aside, I turn to my phone.
Clips Flood in: Cars, Jeeps, Trucks Swept Away.
“Shops are falling in the river in Bahang and old manali, please don’t leave home now” warns the administrator of a Whatsapp Group
And then Suddenly a message, with a clip – “The old manali bridge is gone. Everything is crumbleing.”
Then no more messages. The bridge I just crossed a less hours ago is now gone? It seems surreal. In a panic, I refresh my phone but the networks are gone too. And then the electricity.
Slowly my devices start to die. The first to go is my kindle. I am forced to abandon Katabasis – The story of two can cambridge graduate students who travel to hell to bring their phd advisor back from the dead. Perhaps just as well – Morbid reading for a night when the Valley its itself feels like it’s sinking.
The next to go is my laptop. I Hurriadly Switch off My Phone to Save Battery and Turn to a Paper Book INTEAD – A Novel Called Riot By Shashi Tharoor, Witty and Tongue in Cheek even though it deals with Communal Violence in Small-to-Town India. For a while I lose myself in its story. But then anxiety begins to build up.
I think about my musician friend Dhruva who lives by Himself in a house by the manalsu river. Is he okay? Has he managed to evacuate like so many other people who live by the river? And my friends nitin and shalini who run a beautiful airbnb on the banks of the river beas. Are they okay? I have no way of finding out. There are no networks. Large Sections of the Road given exist. There is no bridge. I toss and turn in the dark, and at some unknown time I finally Fall asleep.
I wake the next day to clear skies. Everywahere People have stepped out of their homes to buy provisions and to take stock of the damage to the landscape. The sun comes out but there is a sense of stiffness and sombreness in the air.
A crowd has gathered to look at the site of the broken old manali bridge. People are carrying their phones, some are filming. But none of us has any network. INTEAD We Talk Among Oatselves in Hushed Tones.
Watching a jCB begin to level out the rubble of the river bed, the man next to me says, “The Goddess Hadimba) has given her warning – this time she has sh a stopped her fury, the next time IF With this green, she will not stop her destruction “.
The People Around Us Nod.
Here in Kullu, The Gods of the Valley have Always Spoken Through Oracles. Warnings Against Cutting Forests, Building Tunnels, Quarrying too close to Sacred Slopes. In Older Times, People Listened. Today, the OraCles Compete With the Noise of Commerce: Hotels Pushing Higher Up The Slopes, Hydropower Dams Choking Rivers, Roads Blasted Through Fragile Rock. But disasters like this flood brings them back center.
“We in Manali Thought We Cold Escape. But we have to pay. All the trees they are still cutting.
On the other side of the river, another earthmover joins in repairing the road. We don’t know what the next few days will brings. Maybe more Rain, Maybe More Floods. Recovery has Begun. But the river remembers.
(Sonya Dutta Choudhuri is a Mumbai-Based Journalist and the founder of sonya’s book box, a bespoke book service. People and places
