Flow

1 Oh that thou wouldest rend the heavens, that thou wouldest come down, that the mountains might flow down at thy presence, 2 As when the melting fire burneth, the fire causeth the waters to boil, to make thy name known to thine adversaries, that the nations may tremble at thy presence! 3 When thou didst terrible things which we looked not for, thou camest down, the mountains flowed down at thy presence. 4 For since the beginning of the world men have not heard, nor perceived by the ear, neither hath the eye seen, O God, beside thee, what he hath prepared for him that waiteth for him. 

The Prophet Isaiah 64. 8th Century BC

The river flows through the hills. The hills that I call my home. Darjeeling.

Darjeeling; that is cold, shutdown, in despair. Forgotten, but by her own children. Over sixty days of shut down; with little food, less hope and much sadness.

Democracy worships the god of majority. So do events around the world at large say. The events of the last two months in Darjeeling is no different. With larger stakes of the majority, the voice of the few, no matter how genuine, goes unheard.

I was there some thirty years ago; a witness to the last time when the people of Darjeeling raised their voice. Demanded that they are heard. The din barely reached the masters of destiny.The fate of Darjeeling did not change. We did not have a better Darjeeling to stay back to; our compulsions made us move on.

For the last sixty days, I am following the events of Darjeeling and listening to the raised voices of a new generation. The initial spirited, angry and hopeful voices are now dying down. In Javdavpur, Kolkata young voices are now singing the song of the river. That the river flows, forgetting those that are left behind. River, Oh river Teesta, will not from your bosom come out a voice; a voice that will rend the heavens?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JLAR3QpSIjQ