Genre: Slice of Life

On the banks of the Sarayu, all was well. A golden skinned woman dipped her soft feet into the river, chilled by the cool waves. Washermen sang their wailing songs as they returned home after a long day in the water. The villager's wife turned her back on the currents as she balanced an overflowing pot on the curve of her hip. 

Deep in the water, all was well. The orange spotted coyfish danced unconsciously around the silver scaled carp. A thin gharial dove into the river, abandoning the rock upon which it had been basking all day. Tiny minnows darted around the green reeds that peeked out from the seabed, eager to explore every corner of the only world they would ever know.

On the surface of the river, all was well. The water was undisturbed, peaceful when the people left it to its own will, rippled only by the energetic Koi. From a bending teak tree, a leaf fluttered down, pulled here and there by the wind, only to choose the quiet river as its final destination. Accommodating, Sarayu carried it wherever it wished to go, North and South, East and West. 

Through the stretch of the riparian, all was well. People took their final dips in the water, people cleaned their muddy hands in the water, people washed themselves in the water. 

The splendorous palace watched its reflection in the water, willing to do nothing but sit still and admire its own beauty as it had done for years. 

The moon created its own impression in the water, eager to magnify its hazy white glow.

Something else also looked at the river. 

In the infinite heavens, Shri Narayan stared at Sarayu, his eyes empathetic and warm. 

If the innocent river had known that it was being gazed upon by the Lord of the Universe, the Sarayu would have bowed so deeply that it would have soaked right back into the ground. 

But blissfully unaware it continued to flow, serving the dependent lives of Kosala without complaint. 

Only Narayan noticed its selflessness, its abundance, its quiet servitude. There was no more question of it. His incarnation in Kosala would be perfect.

"Worry not, oh Sarayu," Vishnu laughed from his abode. "I will be the person that people look to, that people depend on. I will be their water and their river, I will be their Sarayu. I will take away your burden, so you don't have to bend so painfully at the banks, so you don't have to wince when the women create ripples in your lithe being."

"I will come to you."

The woman took her feet out of the water, and fell asleep on the damp banks. 

The washermen fell silent. 

The villager's wife turned the curve and left the river's sight. 

The fish fell asleep, tired of jumping and playing. 

The gharial floated on the water. 

The palace went dark. 

The moon was covered with clouds. 

At the darkness, Sarayu exhaled, exhausted, but not regretful. It had been a long day. It was more tiring to serve the people who took from it every day rather than the creatures who lived in its depths. 

This was always very strange to it. The people of Kosala had resided on its banks for a fraction of its life, and yet they took so much of it.

Not just water, but secrets. 

They told secrets that they expected never to be repeated, and the Sarayu had always promised, even if it was tempting to whisper something particularly scandalous to the passing Koi.

That day, there had been some wonderful ones. 

It had heard of many things, hundreds of words spilled from eager mouths like a cascading waterfall; it had heard of a terrible drought in neighboring Videha, rakshasas abundant on the borders, and it had heard of the queens.

 All three of them pregnant, after much desolation from the king. Word was that divine Dasharath had cried so much for sons, Kosala could have had another river! The Sarayu certainly wouldn't mind a companion.

But it was not that for which it hoped. 

It hoped that they would bring the newborn infants to its refuge, where they could play in its shallow depths and splash in its clear waters.

 It hoped to see the Yuvraj and his brothers smiling because of its antics. 

It hoped for a day when the tired king would retire and the prince whom it had seen grow, nurtured by its waters, ascend the throne. 

Perhaps then, it could die happily, for the Earth had been tugging at it for eons. 

It had been serving this area for thousands of years. 

Kosala had only been near it for a few hundred, and it had seen blessed Ikshvaku create his magnificent dynasty.

 It had seen nearly everything there was to see. It was kin to immortal in the eyes of the sages and the deer, the prophets and the poets, the trees that had greeted it every morning since they were saplings.

Ever since the Sarayu had been there, all was well. 

But someday, just like kingdoms rose and fell, it would be its time to go.

When a river served too long, it became fatigued, drained, soaked back into the earth from which it was born. The Sarayu could feel its companion, Saraswati, growing more and more restless every day. Bhoomi Mata was pulling it back in. 

Saraswati was not all well. 

It would soon be time to say goodbye to an old friend. 

But the Sarayu was only weary from the day, not nearly ready to go. It just needed to rest for a little bit, perhaps. A little sleep would do nobody harm, right? And if someone needed it again, it would wake up in a snap, surely. Yes, it assured itself. Just a little sleep. No one will care. 

Dreaming of princes as dark as rain clouds and eyes like the water lotus, the Sarayu fell into a doze. 

On the gently flushed streams of the Sarayu, all was well. 

A/N: Hello! I felt like writing a pre Ramayan short today. 

The Sarayu River has always been one of my favorite parts of the Ramayan, and if I could write a piece on a fictional horse, I could write a piece on a real-life river. I brought up the Saraswati River in this too, because that dried up not too late after the Ramayan (about 6,000 years ago). 

Rivers are very ancient entities. The Saraswati was estimated to be 86,000 years old when it disappeared. I feel like a river would be very weary and wise, and I kind of wanted to write about one. What better than the Sarayu to write? 

I think I'll be unpublishing 'What Ifs' for some time. Now that about everyone has read the first chapter, I've completed my promise to Amita, and I intend to focus on different things now, like PoA and Shorts. 

Okay. Bye!