The River That Forgot Its Song

The River Goddess Sarika once sang as she flowed through a green valley. Her music sounded like water skipping over stones, soft rain on leaves, and a thousand little bells. Farmers said her song helped their crops grow. Children played along her banks, and fish rested in cool pools beneath the reeds. Among those fish was a little golden one named Swarna, who loved following the melody downstream.

Over time, people began forgetting how much the river gave them. Wrappers blew from picnic spots, broken containers were left by the bank, and rubbish washed into the water after rain. At first, Sarika's song only faltered. Then it grew quieter. Swarna found the usual pools cloudy and the reeds tangled with waste. She could no longer hear the tune that had guided her through the valley.

Without the river's old freshness, the fields began to suffer. Farmers frowned at drooping plants, but few looked closely at the water. One evening, Swarna swam to a deep pool and called, "Mother River, why are you silent?" Sarika's voice was barely a whisper. "My water is heavy with waste," she answered. "I cannot sing. I have almost forgotten how my song begins."

Swarna was small, and she could not carry rubbish away with her fins. But she knew where village children came to watch the fish. The next morning, she swam near their favourite steps and leapt from the water. She flashed gold, splashed down, and leapt again. "Look!" one child called. They followed her along the bank until they saw a patch of plastic caught between the roots.

The children were shocked. This was the same river their families used for gardens and fields. They went home and told their parents and teacher. Soon, the grown-ups arranged a cleanup. Children worked only along safe, shallow edges with adults beside them, wearing gloves and staying away from sharp objects. Adults handled the dangerous rubbish and deeper places. Swarna watched as the first bag of waste was carried away.

They worked all week. People who had once walked past litter now stopped to help. Shopkeepers placed bins near busy paths, and families agreed to take their waste home after picnics. The farmers checked where dirty runoff entered the stream. "Cleaning once is not enough," the teacher reminded everyone. "We must stop the rubbish from returning." The children made a promise to keep visiting and caring for the bank.

Slowly, the water ran clearer. Sunlight reached the pebbles again, and Swarna could see her own golden reflection. One morning, she heard a tiny note. It grew into a ripple of music, then a flowing melody that travelled through the reeds. "You remembered!" she cried. Sarika laughed softly. "You helped me find my voice." Across the valley, fresh water reached the fields, and new green shoots lifted toward the sky.

The villagers gathered beside the river to listen. No one treated the song as something that would last without care anymore. They kept the bins empty, protected the banks, and taught younger children to notice what entered the water. Swarna swam beneath the clear surface, her tail moving in time with the current. The river was singing again, and everyone understood that its music belonged to a friendship they had to look after every day.

Moral: When we care for nature, nature cares for us.