Bodhi Chatterjee
The mist hung low over the ghats of Varanasi, India, as I stepped down to the Ganges, the air carrying the mingled scents of incense and decay. My mind wrestled with its contradictions as I stood at the edge of the ancient river. As a scientist, I’ve studied these waters extensively. The data is damning: high concentrations of lead and mercury, fecal matter, and pathogens. I’ve even published papers on the river’s declining health. Yet, here I was, 62 years old, about to immerse myself in what many would deem a toxic stew.
The first touch of water sent a jolt through me, cold and alive despite its contamination. It was dark, its surface speckled with marigold petals and ash from nearby pyres. A boatman rowed past, his vessel carrying offerings—earthen lamps flickering with fragile flames. Around me, pilgrims recited prayers, their voices harmonizing with the temple bells. Faith, I thought, can eclipse the starkest truths.
The scientist in me knew that no ritual could neutralize the chemicals that seep into this river from industrial waste and untreated sewage. I’ve analyzed its samples—clear evidence of human neglect. Fish can’t survive here. In some spots, the bacterial count is so high it’s a miracle that humans can. And yet, the believer in me felt the weight of generations who had trusted in the Ganga’s sacredness. My ancestors, too, had come to these waters seeking absolution.
Cupping the water in my hands, I poured it over my head. It was a paradoxical act, both an embrace of faith and a defiance of reason. The chill spread through me, and with it, a strange calm. For a moment, I wasn’t the scientist battling despair over environmental degradation or the citizen lamenting a government’s inaction. I was simply a man, standing in the river of my forefathers, searching for connection, for solace.
As I walked back to the ghat, dripping and contemplative, I wondered: Could science and faith coexist here, in these waters? Or was I destined to live suspended between belief and knowledge, as polluted by contradiction as the Ganges itself?