Deciphering Cooum river

Small streams collect water and grow into a river, full of life. This is what we have grown up to believe. Ever since I remember Chennai, it has been synonymous with a much touted river which is more of a large sewer flowing through the heart of Chennai. “Are you really going to walk along Cooum?” was a curious question that my family had when I had revealed my plans to join Pa Madhavan on his walk. I wanted to be the river. I ordered everything in white — shirt, trousers, shoes, socks and even a white cap. This will be me… journeying along. I wanted to be in sync with the river. All white.

 

On the first two days, I was cautious about my white dress not getting unnecessarily dirty and even resisted the urge to sit down to take rest. The backpack and uneven terrain did make the walk feel one with the river, just as it struggles to flow. When Pa Madhavan noticed that I was resisting the urge to relax he said that if I had to sit down, I should do so. If the dress got dirty it’s the river that is dirty and then there was no stopping me. The walk by itself was a beauty. No vehicle was following us to provide logistics support. Each one was to fend for himself. It was a heterogeneous group and we didn’t walk in a pack all the time.  All along the way we found angels — people who looked at us with a weird disbelief when we told them that we were casually exploring the river. The irony is that most of them expected us to do something - bring in a change. They just stopped short of asking us why it didn’t rain. And it did rain, on two occasions and we were stranded. And I wanted a part of me to be more like the river and didn’t worry about my white dress anymore.

 

Cooum did expose herself in many ways though not one of a happy lady. More of a mother from a lower middle class family. She was in her full grace sometimes silently bears signs of abuse and exploitation. Her grandeur is clearly visible at places where she is protected. 

 

We had to traverse through various terrains… grasslands… sand… swamps… sewer… garbage… and yet… the river did seem to forgive. It was exposing us to the stark reality of life - we get back what we give. And my dress had really started to become the river… taking me along. Stains…. Crumples… dirt… stench… I would not give up… I started taking pride in being me and to be the river going through all that she goes through.

 

Entering Chennai via Tiruvallur was a turning point.  What was previously an adventure turned out to be a nightmare. What was once about walking in the river had turned into walking-safe-without-falling into the sewer. Some of the walkers preferred cleaner streets through the settlements on the banks than walking through the grime. This is when I strengthened my resolve to pursue. I was no longer an urban citizen who shunned away from things that I don’t like. I found myself one with the river. I began to feel the pain, the disgrace and the burden I had to carry. Yet I found it incredibly beautiful. Rejuvenating this beautiful river is not a Herculean task but it just needs education and civic sense.

 

It was kind of nostalgic relief as we crossed Napier’s Bridge (Chennai) and walked towards the Bay of Bengal. It was solemn.  I could feel the stiffness in shirt… the sweat and dirt and the stench as I had left it unattended. Not caring about what it was becoming had taken its toll. Had I been more careful I would have been proud to be flaunting it as white. I had shunned my responsibility. I had deliberately not cared about maintaining my whites but was more conscious about those around me - saved embarrassment by generous sprays of deodorants. That’s what we do to the rivers. Cooum is no different. It’s a beautiful river and it is what it is now because we did not care and conveniently looked the other way.