Roaring through rugged mountains like Colorado & Brahmaputra or flowing calmly through plain fields like Nile or Ganges; rivers have been the cradle of civilisations & carriers of its culture . They hold special significance in the history and geography of any nation. Not only the kings made their capitals and castles surroounding their banks but traders and looters are also drawn by them. The most thriving, rich & beautiful cities are always on the water banks ...ancient ones also. Water-front not only gives them a soothing, aesthetic edge over the other cities; but a linking passage to the neighbouring world also . We all know that in olden days when there were no good roads and carriers, men depended on these rivers to ferry them around. If we want to learn about the development and movement of any civilisation, we should study the route of their main rivers; be it Nile, Ganges, Yellow River or Hudson & Mississippi.
In India rivers are bit more special because in spite of their exploitation as a dump tank for the sewage and human waste; they still hold almost a Godess-like status. People not only respect and worship them but offer all kinds of offerings also to please them. We do not need to tell an Indian what Ganges means to him; he learns about it from his early childhood days; watching and understanding the utmost respect which is given to it on each and every religious rite. Even few drops of Gangajal can purify the sins of the whole clan.
Even without any religious or spiritual context, rivers are fascinating; whether one is walking on its bank, boating, bathing, or simply admiring from the distance. In this issue of Lekhni we have tried to capture the few snapshots of the famous rivers, especially those of India.
Now when rumours are ripe that few of the world's most famous rivers are in danger of disappearing because of the global warming; ( Ganga may be the first) it will be a timely decision to look for the ways to save our rivers, so we can save our planet, our race, our culture !
To cojole us out of our carefree attitude, here is a news clip from Washington Post ;
' This may be the first place on Earth where global warming could hurt our very religion. We are becoming an endangered species of Hindus," said Veer Bhadra Mishra, an engineer and director of the Varanasi-based Sankat Mochan Foundation, an organization that advocates for the preservation of the Ganges. "The melting glaciers are a terrible thing. We have to ask ourselves, who are the custodians of our culture if we can't even help our beloved Ganga?"
Environmental groups such as Mishra's have long focused on pollution of the Ganges. More than 100 cities and countless villages are situated along the 1,568-mile river, which stretches from the foothills of the Himalayas to the Bay of Bengal, and few of them have sewage treatment plants.
But recent reports by scientists say the Ganges is under even greater threat from global warming. According to a U.N. climate report, the Himalayan glaciers that are the sources of the Ganges could disappear by 2030 as temperatures rise.
The shrinking glaciers also threaten Asia's supply of fresh water. The World Wildlife Fund in March listed the Ganges among the world's 10 most endangered rivers. In India, the river provides more than 500 million people with water for drinking and farming.
The immediate effect of glacier recession is a short-lived surplus of water. But eventually the supply runs out, and experts predict that the Ganges eventually will become a seasonal river, largely dependent on monsoon rains."There has never been a greater threat for the Ganges," said Mahesh Mehta, an environmental lawyer who has been filing lawsuits against corporations dumping toxins in the Ganges. He is now redirecting his energies toward the melting glaciers. "If humans don't change their interference, our very religion, our livelihoods are under threat."
Mehta and other environmentalists want to see the Indian government here enforce strict reductions of greenhouse gas emissions, the primary cause of climate change.'
He appears, framed in the doorway, his shadow cast across the cracked linoleum floor. I sit in the old leather creaking dentist's chair and watch him. He passes, to stand at the sink, scrubbing his hands. His actions are unhurried, graceful even.
I've made up my mind. I've got this far, further than ever before. Butterflies the size of bats swish about in my belly. i'm scared, really scared: about to let this stranger violate my body; about to be marked by him. I could leave. I am free to leave any time i want but i know i won't. I trust this man, though he is a stranger. I feel safe. Safe enough to let him inflict this pain on me; to draw blood and i'm going to pay him to do it!
Heavy traffic swishing by in the rain, heavy metal thrashing on the hi-fi. A winter afternoon in Birmingham, UK.
His name is Raol: tall and wide, clad in leather breeks, leather boots and a black t-shirt that strains over his pectoral muscles. His hrad is shaven. He is decorated with nose rings, eyebrow rings, lip rings, bamboo chunksin stretched holes, at least a thumb wide, in his ears. He has beautiful, small, bright blue eyes, keen. Neither of us has spoken yet.
There are pictures of him, posing naked in a magazine, in the small waiting room. He is tattoed from neck to ankle- aiving work of art. Here is a man clearly ease with himself. His motorbike sits there gleaming beside the drinks machine and battered sofa. He turns to me, drying his hands, smiling: right then , what's it to be?
He has shut out my presence again, except for the one small white rectangle of virgin skin on my arm.His whole attention is now on that.
I watch as he pulls on a pair of tight rubber gloves---panther brand, wich limpet themselves to his strong hands; fingers interlocking, pushing against the bits where hands split apart inti digits; the dark hair of his wrist fringing round the band; black maory morphology glistening on his forearms. I am his last customer today, lucky he could do me - a cancellation. Most of his other customers are regulars.
He sits astride a stool at my side. My heart races. A gynaecological overhead angle-poise is switched on, dazzling me. My mouth is bone dry. The music thumps. The smell of dettol fills the air as Raol takes hold of my upper arm, skin stretched tight and wipes it with some damp, white gauze. He presses his foot down on the floor switch. The purring of the gun.
at the commencement of mutilation;
the onset of extravasation
my eye roll back revealing their whites
and I catch my breath
that is:
i go into a state of pathological
ecstacy as tattoing begins.
The whirring, the humming, the scraping. The cluster of needles vibrating round the ink-steeped hollow core; ploughing through my skin; mixing the ink with my blood; sewing machine rapidity. My mammy up all hours trying to get my dress finished for the school trip tomorrow...
I see through the sky-light, a break in the clouds, a plane flying high, away, silver trail in its wake.
Raol is smoothing Vaseline on my arm, scraping the excess off with a wooden spatula. I look at the tiny droplet of blue and red suspended in the petrolium jelly, covering a piece of kitchen towel he has thrown into a small plastic bucket. There is a pile of torn-off sections of the roll lying on the table, aside the inks and needles, at hand to mop up synovial overflow.
The pressure from Raol's hand, holding my arm steady is relentless yet it is welcome for it offsets the intense burning of the needles. I shut my eyes. I am here, having this done, of my own free will. No-one has forced me into it. this makes me feel in control of myself, of my own destiny. I feel this pain this scarring, without any terror or shame, as if some of the other suffering I carry around with me is being released by the letting of blood, by catharsis.
I relax into the chair: it is rainy night in marseilles, the ship's docked: 24 hour leave-
get the young'en his first prostitute,
images of tight, slitted pencil skirt, beret, striped sloppy joe, fag dangling from the ruby-red mouth- ta guelle!
then...his first tattoo!
two little bluebirds joined amorously at the beaks...
I relax even further.
A polynesian island: right of passage tribal arse design sported by captain-cook mutineers, happy to sunbathe, fish , coconut crack; juice-guzzle, completely native-turn, the rest of the landlubbing, clutching at strange gods, days away. Heartbroken to be retrieved by rape-and-pillaging, sea-dog cronies: no more shore-leave for them this voyage !
The ancient magic-bearing designs make their way to taverns all over Europe and Americas.
***
150 years later someone jumps ship, and sets up shop in steamy, damp Liverpool or Glascow or Amsterdam or Valetta or New York: a backstreet dive, opium-den, brothel, servicing the drunken sailors homesick, with snackes wound round daggers on forearms, spreadeagled eagles on back s, bleeding lovehearts, sweetheart's name forever inscribed on inner arm or buttock. Ivy-wrapped tombstones with roses and motherly tributes, engraved thereon. Two little bluebirds, seperated forever, on right and left hand. Love and hate. Michaelangelo's pieta.
Behold a carvern of scars and stumps and takes of adventures on the seven seas. Tipless fags, all ash capsizing on soldiers, convicts, sailors, molls and dolls, the odd gangster or novelist-by-night-librarian by day, queuing, whiskied or rummed, to endure the ecstatic torture, the buzzing delight of south sea island skin embellishment, epithelium illumination, embroidered pellicle-blooded and bandaged.
Behold the whirring in the lamplight, the swirling tobaco
smoke semi-grey, the crude jokes, and coarse laughter.
The accordianist/ guitarist/ pianist/ saxophonist playing just
beyond the beaded curtain in the next room...
Nearly finished, Raol says softly, daubing wound, looking, inspecting, head held to the side, I open my eyes.
The Rivers of India are not mere rivers, they are the revered deities; not only the grain bowl of the nation depends on their flowing fresh water, but they also literally take care of an Indian's spirituality from cradle to grave. It is on the banks of these rivers only that ultimate salvation( Moksh) is attained.
Indian rivers can be classified as Himalayan, peninsular, coastal, and inland-drainage basin rivers. Himalayan rivers are snow fed and maintain a high to medium rate of flow throughout the year. Most sacred rivers for many, both Ganges and Yamuna are the Himalayan rivers. The heavy annual average rainfall levels in the Himalayan catchment areas further add to their rates of flow. During the monsoon months of June to September, the catchment areas are prone to flooding. The volume of the rain-fed peninsular rivers also increases. Coastal streams, especially in the west, are short and episodic.
Rivers of the inland system, centered in western Rajasthan state, are few and frequently disappear in years of scant rainfall. The majority of the South Asia's major rivers flow through broad, shallow valleys and drain into the Bay of Bengal.The Ganga River basin, India's largest, includes approximately 25 percent of the nation's area; it is bounded by the Himalayas in the north and the Vindhya Range to the south. The Ganga has its source in the glaciers of the Greater Himalayas, which form the frontier between India and Tibet in northwestern Uttar Pradesh. Many Indians believe that the legendary source of the Ganga, and several other important Asian rivers, lies in the sacred Mapam Yumco Lake (known to the Indians as Manasarowar Lake; probably the most sacread lake in hindu mythology; most scriptures quote it. ) of western Tibet located approximately 75 kilometers northeast of the India-China-Nepal tripoint. In the northern part of the Ganga River basin, practically all of the tributaries of the Ganga are perennial streams. However, in the southern part, located in the states of Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh, many of the tributaries are not perennial.
The Brahmaputra has the greatest volume of water of all the rivers in India because of heavy annual rainfall levels in its catchment basin. At Dibrugarh the annual rainfall averages 2,800 millimeters, and at Shillong it averages 2,430 millimeters. Rising in Tibet, the Brahmaputra flows south into Arunachal Pradesh after breaking through the Great Himalayan Range and dropping rapidly in elevation. It continues to fall through gorges impassable by man in Arunachal Pradesh until finally entering the Assam Valley where it meanders westward on its way to joining the Ganga in Bangladesh.
Out of the all indian rivers Brahmputra is probably the wildest and most ravishing. A mystical, mighty river of extremes and singularities, the Brahmaputra in fact changes its name five times along its course, which begins more than four thousand metres up in the Tibetan Himalayas, making the Yarlung Tsangpo, as it is called here, the highest of the world's main rivers. Rushing to the east through the Tsangpo Gorge, one of the deepest on earth, it descends some three thousand metres through lethal whitewater rafting territory and pristine natural habitat frequented only by unique wildlife and the indigenous Bodo people. It enters the plains of the most eastern edge of India in Arunachal Pradesh before being joined by two other rivers as it enters Assam, where it widens and becomes the sacred Brahmaputra, or 'Son of Brahma' – the only river in India and Bangladesh to bear the name of a male deity. It flows through Bangladesh under yet another name before ending as a huge delta in the Bay of Bengal. Aside from being one of the seven holy rivers in Hindu mythology, the Brahmaputra is amongst the very few in the world to have an up-river wave due to its funnel-shaped join with the sea, which concentrates the force of the incoming tide.
The Mahanadi, rising in the state of Madhya Pradesh, is an important river in the state of Orissa. In the upper drainage basin of the Mahanadi, which is centered on the Chhattisgarh Plain, periodic droughts contrast with the situation in the delta region where floods may damage the crops in what is known as the rice bowl of Orissa. Hirakud Dam, constructed in the middle reaches of the Mahanadi, has helped in alleviating these adverse effects by creating a reservoir.
The source of the Godavari is northeast of Bombay (Mumbai in the local Marathi language) in the state of Maharashtra, and the river follows a southeasterly course for 1,400 kilometers to its mouth on the Andhra Pradesh coast. The Godavari River basin area is second in size only to the Ganga; its delta on the east coast is also one of the country's main rice-growing areas. It is known as the "Ganga of the South," but its discharge, despite the large catchment area, is moderate because of the medium levels of annual rainfall, for example, about 700 millimeters at Nasik and 1,000 millimeters at Nizamabad. The Krishna rises in the Western Ghats and flows east into the Bay of Bengal. It has a poor flow because of low levels of rainfall in its catchment area--660 millimeters annually at Pune. Despite its low discharge, the Krishna is the third longest river in India.
The source of the Kaveri is in the state of Karnataka, and the river flows southeastward. The waters of the river have been a source of irrigation since antiquity; in the early 1990s, an estimated 95 percent of the Kaveri was diverted for agricultural use before emptying into the Bay of Bengal. The delta of the Kaveri is so mature that the main river has almost lost its link with the sea, as the Kollidam, the distributary of the Kaveri, bears most of the flow.
The Narmada and the Tapti are the only major rivers that flow into the Arabian Sea. The Narmada rises in Madhya Pradesh and crosses the state, passing swiftly through a narrow valley between the Vindhya Range and spurs of the Satpura Range. It flows into the Gulf of Khambhat (or Cambay). The shorter Tapti follows a generally parallel course, between eighty kilometers and 160 kilometers to the south of the Narmada, flowing through the states of Maharashtra and Gujarat on its way into the Gulf of Khambhat.
From worshipping & celebrating to cleansing & curing rivers are an intrigate part of an Indian way of life.
Tickly Boo was very sick indeed. He has eaten too many chocolates’ again. Ma Windy Boo & Pa Prickly Boo were very upset with their little son. They were worried about him, How will he carry on Boo family tradition of frightening children. Their little son goes to children to frighten & starts playing with them. Eats lots of chocolates & crisps with them. Becomes very friendly with them. And no respectable Boo family member is allowed to do all that.
But Tickly likes little children. He likes tickling them with his soft ticklish golden brown hairs. It is true that his body is also covered with furry hairs all over like that of a bear. But they are not hard as his Ma and Pa's are and he can not make frightening whistling sound like his parents, sounding like a hurricane or storm and really frightening all the children. Worst thing is that he really loves paying with them. But as soon as he gets ready to go out to play with his friends, mummy & Papa make some excuse and order him to stay in. Today was also not different. On the pretext of illness he was advised to take a total bed rest for the day.
He was worried now. He promised all his friends that he will come around three but now how can he reach there when Ma & Pa are not letting him? Suddenly there was a gentle tap on the window and happy little Sun Shine Ray was peeping through, .beaming radiantly with a broad smile. " Hurry up! Let's go now. We will come back in no time." He almost danced with joy as she slipped in with her gleaming golden dress, after all she was his best friend.
" But it is not disobeying my parents, is it?" He asked rather worriedly.
" No, certainly not. They only want you to get better quickly and I am sure you will be completely all right as soon as you meet your friends."
Both of them ran out immediately and rolled in with a big bang boo style in the children's playground. That day they played peek-a-boo for hours and hours, till they got totally exhausted and it was time to come back .
So children next time when you hear a big boo and suddenly your door or window gets flung open with a gush of a wind or a hooting sound, do not feel scared! It might just be your friend Tickly Boo who has come out to play with you!
हिंदी नई कविता की जानी-मानी और मुखर कवयित्री कीर्ति चौधरी (1934-2008) का लंदन में निधन हो गया है।
उन्होंने भारतीय समयानुसार शुक्रवार (13 जून) की सुबह तीन बजकर 45 मिनट पर अंतिम साँस ली।
पिछले कुछ समय से अस्वस्थ चल रहीं कीर्ति चौधरी लंदन में रह रही थीं और वहीं उनका उपचार हो रहा था।
कीर्ति चौधरी तीसरे सप्तक की एक मात्र कवयित्री थीं।
‘तीसरा सप्तक’ (1960) के संपादक अज्ञेय ने 60 के दशक में प्रयाग नारायण त्रिपाठी, केदारनाथ सिंह, कुँवर नारायण, विजयदेव नारायण साही, सर्वेश्वर दयाल सक्सेना और मदन वात्स्यायन जैसे साहित्यकारों के साथ कीर्ति चौधरी को भी तीसरा सप्तक का हिस्सा बनाया।
तीसरा सप्तक के कवियों में से एक, जाने माने साहित्यकार केदारनाथ सिंह उनके निधन पर शोक व्यक्त करते हुए कहते हैं, "तीसरा सप्तक के लिए यह दो ही वर्षों में तीसरा आघात है. इसी वर्ष प्रयाग नारायण त्रिपाठी का भी देहांत हो चुका है. इससे कुछ समय पहले मदन वात्स्यायन हमें छोड़कर चले गए।"
केदारनाथ सिंह कीर्ति चौधरी के कृतित्व की चर्चा करते हुए कहते हैं, "महादेवी वर्मा के बाद हिंदी कविता में जो एक रिक्तता आई थी, उसे कीर्ति अपने मौलिक लेखन से पाटती हैं. उनकी कविता एक नए सांचे में थी जिसकी बनावट अलग थी. उसमें एक ताज़गी थी. और अपनी रचनाओं के तल में उनके पास एक ख़ास तरह का स्त्री सुलभ संवेदना का ढांचा था जो उनके समय में किसी और के पास नहीं था।"
'केवल एक बात थी'
कीर्ति नई कविता की कवियत्री थीं. ऐसी, जिन्होंने महादेवी वर्मा के जाने के बाद आई रिक्तता में अपनी खनक घोलनी शुरू की थी।
नई कविता की शुरुआत आम तौर पर ‘दूसरा सप्तक’ ( 1951) से होती है और ऐसा माना जाता है कि 1959 में ‘तीसरा सप्तक’ के प्रकाशन के साथ वह अपने उत्कर्ष को पहुँच कर समाप्त हो जाती है।
नई कविता के इसी उत्कर्षकाल की साक्षी और सारथी थीं कीर्ति चौधरी और उनकी रचनाएं।
उनकी कविताओं में एक मोहक प्रगीतात्मकता देखने को मिलती है. उनकी कविता में मनुष्य और उसके समग्र अनुभवों को पकड़ने का यत्न हुआ है।
वास्तव में कीर्ति चौघरी की कविता नई कविता के अन्य रचनाकारों की तरह ही संपूर्ण जीवन की कविता है। उनकी कविता में प्रतीकों और बिंबों का काफ़ी प्रयोग मिलता है।
जीवन परिचय
एक जनवरी, 1934 को उत्तर प्रदेश के उन्नाव ज़िले के नईमपुर गाँव में एक कायस्थ परिवार में उनका जन्म हुआ था।
कीर्ति चौधरी का मूल नाम कीर्ति बाला सिन्हा था. उन्नाव में जन्म के कुछ बरस बाद उन्होंने पढ़ाई के लिए कानपुर का रुख़ किया. 1954 में एमए करने के बाद 'उपन्यास के कथानक तत्व' जैसे विषय पर उन्होंने शोध भी किया।
साहित्य उन्हें विरासत में भी मिला और फिर जीवन साथी के साथ भी साहित्य, संप्रेषण जुड़े रहे।
हालांकि पिता एक ज़मीदार थे पर कीर्ति चौधरी की माँ, सुमित्रा कुमारी सिन्हा ख़ुद एक बड़ी कवयित्री, लेखिका और जानी-मानी गीतकार थीं।
पर कीर्ति चौधरी का लेखन माँ के प्रभाव से मुक्त था और अपनी मौलिकता लिए हुए था।
उनकी रचनाधर्मिता के पीछे अनुभवों की विविधता भी एक कारण रहा होगा. इसका संकेत कीर्ति अपने बारे में लिखते हुए देती हैं.- "गाँव, कस्बे और शहर के विचित्र मिले-जुले प्रभाव मेरे ऊपर पड़ते रहे हैं।"
कीर्ति चौधरी का विवाह हुआ हिंदी के सर्वश्रेष्ठ रेडियो प्रसारकों में से एक, ओंकारनाथ श्रीवास्तव से।
बीबीसी हिंदी सेवा के साथ लंबे समय तक जुड़े रहे ओंकारनाथ श्रीवास्तव केवल रेडियो को अपने योगदान ही नहीं, बल्कि अपनी कविताओं और कहानियों के लिए भी जाने जाते हैं।
जानेमाने साहित्यकार अजित कुमार कीर्ति जी के भाई हैं।
कीर्ति चौधरी की साहित्यिक यात्रा यों तो बहुत लंबा-चौड़ा समय और सृजन समेटे हुए नहीं है पर जितना भी है, उसे किसी तरह से कमतर नहीं आंका जा सकता।
कीर्ति चौधरी के परिवार में अब उनकी बेटी अतिमा श्रीवास्तव हैं जो ख़ुद अंग्रेज़ी की लेखिका हैं. अतिमा के दो उपन्यास, 'ट्रांसमिशन' और 'लुकिंग फ़ॉर माया' प्रकाशित हो चुके हैं।
(साभार बी.बी.सी. हिन्दी)
Legendary Designer Yves Saint Laurent Dies at 71 Yves Saint Laurent, 71, the French clothing designer who was an emperor of world fashion, and was credited with revolutionizing the way women looked and were looked upon, died Sunday, June 1, 2008, at his home in Paris.
*******
Nature watch
CHICAGO, March 29 -- Skylines around the world went dim Saturday night, as if someone had flicked a giant switch, in celebration of Earth Hour, a symbolic hour of darkness to remind people of the need to combat global warming. The World Wildlife Fund orchestrated the event, based on last year's popular Earth Hour in Sydney Australia.
"
The main point is not to make a significant dent in climate change, but to demonstrate the need for people to take leadership on their own to address this problem," said Richard Moss, the fund's vice president for climate change. "It's not about sitting in the dark, it's about making a serious commitment over the next year and beyond over how we contribute to climate change."
Roaring through rugged mountains like Colorado & Brahmaputra or flowing calmly through plain fields like Nile or Ganges; rivers have been the cradle of civilisations & carriers of its culture . They hold special significance in the history and geography of any nation. Not only the kings made their capitals and castles surroounding their banks but traders and looters are also drawn by them. The most thriving, rich & beautiful cities are always on the water banks ...ancient ones also. Water-front not only gives them a soothing, aesthetic edge over the other cities; but a linking passage to the neighbouring world also . 
In a Notebook
Almanac
When I am thinking...
He appears, framed in the doorway, his shadow cast across the cracked linoleum floor. I sit in the old leather creaking dentist's chair and watch him. He passes, to stand at the sink, scrubbing his hands. His actions are unhurried, graceful even. 
The Rivers of India are not mere rivers, they are the revered deities; not only the grain bowl of the nation depends on their flowing fresh water, but they also literally take care of an Indian's spirituality from cradle to grave. It is on the banks of these rivers only that ultimate salvation( Moksh) is attained.
Indian rivers can be classified as Himalayan, peninsular, coastal, and inland-drainage basin rivers. Himalayan rivers are snow fed and maintain a high to medium rate of flow throughout the year. Most sacred rivers for many, both Ganges and Yamuna are the Himalayan rivers. The heavy annual average rainfall levels in the Himalayan catchment areas further add to their rates of flow. During the monsoon months of June to September, the catchment areas are prone to flooding. The volume of the rain-fed peninsular rivers also increases. Coastal streams, especially in the west, are short and episodic. 
Rivers of the inland system, centered in western Rajasthan state, are few and frequently disappear in years of scant rainfall. The majority of the South Asia's major rivers flow through broad, shallow valleys and drain into the Bay of Bengal.The Ganga River basin, India's largest, includes approximately 25 percent of the nation's area; it is bounded by the Himalayas in the north and the Vindhya Range to the south. The Ganga has its source in the glaciers of the Greater Himalayas, which form the frontier between India and Tibet in northwestern Uttar Pradesh. Many Indians believe that the legendary source of the Ganga, and several other important Asian rivers, lies in the sacred Mapam Yumco Lake (known to the Indians as Manasarowar Lake; probably the most sacread lake in hindu mythology; most scriptures quote it. ) of western Tibet located approximately 75 kilometers northeast of the India-China-Nepal tripoint. In the northern part of the Ganga River basin, practically all of the tributaries of the Ganga are perennial streams. However, in the southern part, located in the states of Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh, many of the tributaries are not perennial.
Out of the all indian rivers Brahmputra is probably the wildest and most ravishing. A mystical, mighty river of extremes and singularities, the Brahmaputra in fact changes its name five times along its course, which begins more than four thousand metres up in the Tibetan Himalayas, making the Yarlung Tsangpo, as it is called here, the highest of the world's main rivers. Rushing to the east through the Tsangpo Gorge, one of the deepest on earth, it descends some three thousand metres through lethal whitewater rafting territory and pristine natural habitat frequented only by unique wildlife and the indigenous Bodo people. It enters the plains of the most eastern edge of India in Arunachal Pradesh before being joined by two other rivers as it enters Assam, where it widens and becomes the sacred Brahmaputra, or 'Son of Brahma' – the only river in India and Bangladesh to bear the name of a male deity. It flows through Bangladesh under yet another name before ending as a huge delta in the Bay of Bengal. Aside from being one of the seven holy rivers in Hindu mythology, the Brahmaputra is amongst the very few in the world to have an up-river wave due to its funnel-shaped join with the sea, which concentrates the force of the incoming tide.
The source of the Godavari is northeast of Bombay (Mumbai in the local Marathi language) in the state of Maharashtra, and the river follows a southeasterly course for 1,400 kilometers to its mouth on the Andhra Pradesh coast. The Godavari River basin area is second in size only to the Ganga; its delta on the east coast is also one of the country's main rice-growing areas. It is known as the "Ganga of the South," but its discharge, despite the large catchment area, is moderate because of the medium levels of annual rainfall, for example, about 700 millimeters at Nasik and 1,000 millimeters at Nizamabad. The Krishna rises in the Western Ghats and flows east into the Bay of Bengal. It has a poor flow because of low levels of rainfall in its catchment area--660 millimeters annually at Pune. Despite its low discharge, the Krishna is the third longest river in India.
From worshipping & celebrating to cleansing & curing rivers are an intrigate part of an Indian way of life.
Tickly Boo was very sick indeed. He has eaten too many chocolates’ again. Ma Windy Boo & Pa Prickly Boo were very upset with their little son. They were worried about him, How will he carry on Boo family tradition of frightening children. Their little son goes to children to frighten & starts playing with them. Eats lots of chocolates & crisps with them. Becomes very friendly with them. And no respectable Boo family member is allowed to do all that. 
Boats sail on the rivers, 
Who has seen the wind? 
IN FOCUS.
कवयित्री कीर्ति चौधरी का निधन 
Legendary Designer Yves Saint Laurent Dies at 71
The main point is not to make a significant dent in climate change, but to demonstrate the need for people to take leadership on their own to address this problem," said Richard Moss, the fund's vice president for climate change. "It's not about sitting in the dark, it's about making a serious commitment over the next year and beyond over how we contribute to climate change." 
