Inadira’s Journey…

By the local correspondent Inaya Sinha

To,

Arabian Sea,

Worli, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India 40013

From,

Inadira River,

Himalayas, Mount Kailasa, Peak 5, Himachal Pradesh

Dear Arabian Sea,

Inadira, here. I have heard lots of stories about you from my grandmother, The Narmada. I believe you know her well. I am only 10 years old but due to global warming, icecaps, glaciers and snow are melting too quickly so I am the size of a 15 year old river. One day, I was looking up at the clouds wondering when they would add more to me when I started thinking about my future. I wonder, when I reach you, will I feel too salty? I know what you’re saying, I should ask my grandmother but she always says that in a few centuries I will find out. I’ve been wondering which places I will flow through when I’m a bit older, I think I will flow through Jammu and Kashmir, Delhi and maybe even Mumbai! But this is all guesswork, you know, I see human children everyday crossing me by jumping over those rocks which rest on my banks to get to school. I wish there was something called River School where we could learn stuff like where we will flow through and make some friends. Even though I don’t have any river friends, I do have a lot of stream friends. I’ve got six, they are twins. They all have the same name, Tributary.

I’ve heard stories but is it true that the people of Madhya Pradesh and Gujarat are actually fighting over Narmaa? I just don’t understand these people, Narmaa is happy to share her waters with Madhya Pradesh and Gujarat equally. They need to learn that fighting doesn’t fix everything. Hey, by the way, how do people around you treat you? There was once an oil spill in me, so basically, there was a storm where a ship was carrying barrels and barrels of oil and one strike of lightning and the whole ship went down. I felt terrible after that, I felt choked like when you have a really bad throat ache. And you know what happened, my fishy friends started dying because oil went into their gills and killed them, and my school friends ( the human children ) used to take water from me for school but after the oil spill my waters became impure and one child actually fell really sick because of drinking my water. But one day, I heard my friends talking about UOI class where they learned about pollution and conservation as they were crossing me. I also heard one of the girls named Inaya who wants to raise money to build a plant to purify my waters and make them pure again. I can’t imagine how you would feel because you literally have oil being drilled from your beds but I also heard that they have beach clean - ups at Choupatti Beach, how does it feel to see the humans making an effort to keep you clean and happy? It can get quite chilly here at Mount Kailasa especially during winter and I see my friends wearing sweaters and shawls and sometimes I wish I could borrow one, at least for one night. Currently I feel I am running down the mountain from the avalanche of growing but when I am in my lower course and meet you I hope I’ll be a lot more at ease. I am a freshwater body and my water is sweet but I have heard that you are much bigger and you have salt water in you and it is not safe to drink. I love my people being able to drink my water ( no offence ) but they also wash clothes in me which something I am not very fond off. You don’t have to worry about that because the soap they use to wash clothes won’t work in you.

I am very close to the day where I will finally get the freedom to roam the lands and meander about. Did you know that dirt or sediment as you may call it, actually helps in my journey as a river. After I take a little vacation from my usual path, dirt and sediment block my path but I am strong so erode a new path to get back to my old one, while leaving a little island behind also known as the ox - bow lake. It’s not a real lake. When doing this I also leave behind most of the dirt and sediment floating in me. Even though I have deposited most of my dirt and sediment I still have a lot left which clumps together to form something called a delta. Deltas are actually pieces of dried up land which separates me into different channels. Deltas are the last step before my journey ends and I get carried by you from county to county. Now, I’ve rambled on enough about myself and after this I’m sure you won’t need to attend history class but anyway, I look forward to meeting you very soon.

Lots of love,

Inadira River.

The story behind this letter

I actually wrote this letter in Grade 3 for our unit Rivers and I thought I should share it with you. The name Inadira is a mix of Inaya, my name and my nani's name, Indira.