On their way, some like the Brahmaputra
Lash their fury every passing year
Without a miss.
Some rivers make nations
As they shape their paths.
Some rivers dry up.
But is that the end of the journey?
The river exists everywhere:
In the mountains, in the hills, in the plains,
Combing through fertile fields, and
Lazing through plateaus.
And in the sea, all at the same time.
So isn�t it the same me everywhere?
My past, my future strung like beads in a string?
