RANDOM REFLECTIONS ON THE UTTARAKHAND CATASTROPHE

Now the final stage of the episode has set in with the decomposed bodies of the victims of the Uttarakhand catastrophe being exposed and the kith and kin of the victims, the media and the governments indulging in a blame game. The mountainous villages of the Himalayan state of Uttarakhand are devastated, leaving people of the world to feed on their feeling of guilt for the way they have proved to be ravenous. The valiant march of progress eroded the vitality and the endurance of the state, igniting the latent heat of its humiliation. The Ganges, the source of life to the Indians in general and the epitome of holiness to the devout Hindus in particur, lay trapped in the paucity of her resources such as the abundance of her supply of clean water from the melting of the snow from the caverns of the Himalayas. But nobody was bothered about the way the lifeline of the country had dried to a trickle obstructed by the rain of boulders dumped on her bosom and ominous fuel emissions in the hysteria of advancement. The towns of Srinagar, Chamoli and pipalkothi, to name a few, witnessed a feverish ascent to a life of smoothness defying the spirit of sturdiness of the Himalayas. The people from the vast stretches of the state of Uttarakhand burst upon the scene to adapt to the trend of a transition from the nights of grinding poverty to the dawn of advancement, thanks to the external influence of prosperity and glitz. But it was inevitable as people struggling to live better had to stir and stretch out. The bond of nature with the people began to disintegrate, deepening the resolve of the known phenomena to vent their frustration and humiliation.

The pretenses of yoga and meditation on the banks of the Ganges with astute marketing strategies to promote a lust for life and retain vigour and the strength and the pomp of consumerism in the surroundings coalesced in a perfect blend to precipitate the future of life taken for granted. The omens could not be missed in the form of the near extinction of tigers, the pride of the jungle life in the hills, the disappearance of a variety of birds and their chirping giving way to the raucousness of a cavalcade of motor vehicles with an unending stream of tourists and pilgrims. Busy with the kind of life they had chosen for themselves, no one cared to report or note the echo of a weird lament alive in the soul of the hills.

 Every attempt to deviate and be greedy was justified on the pretext of sanctity associated with the land, the abode of Gods, in addition to the the spartan people and the colossal mountains. Against this backdrop getting bleaker and bleaker, the Ganges flowed thin and feeble, letting the offering of pollutants to bob on her bosom. More and more hills were devoured by the blast of dynamites and more and more cars traversed miles along the tortuous paths of the Himalayas, leaving a trail of perfidy imported from cities.When the disaster struck the common people, happy to relate to the surroundings with the spirit of pantheism, were as much austere as they should have been testifying to the way they had been able to retain their love for the mountains. But they had to fall prey to the fury of nature that had been exploited by the wilier of people from there and elsewhere, leaving us aghast at the horrifying tales of the disappearance of those innocent souls we shall never hear.

Labels: Uttarakhand disaster, Ganges

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