The Ganges starts ferociously. Plunging and rushing through the narrow valleys and gorges, it lets nothing come in its way. It slowly and steadily erodes the rocks. Oblivious to what lies ahead, it moves unfazed about the destination. The vigor is fascinating to watch but intimidating to handle. It doesn’t fear obstacles. This is youth.
In its middle course, the river is slow, calm and muddy with the burden that came along with youth. It grows wider and deeper. At certain places, one bank cannot see the other. Growing in capacity, it is slower in changing directions. Through the meanders it continues to set a path. It is predictable and patient for those who rely on it.
Finally, in the lower course, the river loses its jest. It leaves all that it accumulated and dumps it in the delta. Water flows into the sea, carrying no hint of its source, losing identity.
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