Rivers have always captivated my imagination since childhood. Meandering her way, sparkling under the sun or glowing under the moonlight, gurgling happily at every child’s dip into her waters, eavesdropping on women bantering at her banks, splashing to the rhythms of the suntanned boatman’s song — the river journeys forth seeking her home in salty waters, trying her best to sweeten her new abode and slowly erasing herself to merge with the ocean. This journey of the river mirrors the different stages of human life that, in the end, merges with the universal life force. The last resting home of mortal remains of human beings is inevitably a river which carries forth our ashes towards its final destination.
Reading about the mother of all rivers, the river Nile, had kindled a yearning within me since my childhood, to sail on this glorious river that had cradled one of the oldest human civilisations. This dream came true last Christmas, as I sauntered into my late fifties. Landing on the soil of the pharaohs and hieroglyphics, I was swept off my feet at the sight of the pyramids. Getting a panoramic view of the three major pyramids at Giza dwarfing the other three and a cluster of ruins surrounding them was an amazing experience.
The frequent swirls of sand and strong winds pushed me to sway even as I marvelled at the sand-eaten tops of the hoary peaks of limestone and granite. What did the pharaohs dream of? Immortality? Challenging their gods? An assertion of their power over the populace? They succeeded in all these possibilities for well over 4,000 years. Their grandeur and unchallenged glory is, however, undermined by the iPhone-toting, selfie-obsessed tourists, chattering noisily and bargaining for vantage angles as much as they do for local wares or mementos. The inscrutable Sphinx in the adjacent hexagon looked on bemused, but unimpressed by the teeming crowd.
A cruise on the Nile from Aswan to Luxor is a memorable experience. The sumptuous meals and the vivacious belly dance notwithstanding, the cruise is best remembered for the majestic spread of the Nile, that has witnessed the rise and fall of the Egyptian, Nubian, Greek, Roman empires, the Arabs and the colonising British, Dutch and French troops over a period of four to five millennia. The banks of the Nile are dotted by granite rocks, sandy, arid lands, barren hills and a few patches of banana groves or vegetable farms. It is a unique landscape that one hardly gets to see near other river banks.
Yet another uniqueness regarding the Nile cruise, which makes the experience ethereal and elevating, is the series of architectural marvels within walking distance from its banks. The night halts at Aswan, Edfu and Luxor cities offer us sights beyond our imagination. What our school history books tamely describe are etched out in awe-inspiring granite and limestone pillars, enigmatic hieroglyphic scripts etched out vertically in colourful sandstone columns or engravings of Egyptian gods Horus, Isis, Nephthys, Hosiris and many more. These can be seen at the temple of Edfu where the Nile meandered through since ancient times.
The Karnak Temple, with its aweinspiring world’s largest hypostyle hall of 134 columns, communing with the sky, and the world’s tallest obelisk left me wondering at humanity’s grit, prowess and a persistent craving to defy mortality, if only on stone. The narratives of kings like Ramesses II, Queen Hatshepsut — the only woman Pharaoh — etched on granite have indeed preserved their audacious yet human yearning for immortality. The Nile flows by quietly, as a reliable witness to bygone epochs, teaching resilience and hope to present generations of earnest explorers of enduring dreams.
The Nile cruises towards Luxor, a city that vibrates with celebratory verve. The city is proud of its Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens abounding in tombs, caves robbed of their material treasures, but keeping intact a splendid array of hieroglyphic narratives in original colours, carvings in brilliant shades of blue, orange and green well-preserved over 3,500-odd years.
It was a surreal experience. The never-ending quest of kings to linger in the memory of the living, to defy death, to challenge oblivion, to live on amongst strangers, to leave behind the story of their lives on enduring stone is challenged by none other than the silent, ever-flowing, life-giving, blue waters of the Nile.
As I reminiscence about the cruise tour that I experienced three months back, news of a shipload of tourists stranded at the dockyard of Luxor jolts me out of my reverie.
-B Mangalam