Fish-Eye Lens

Fish-Eye Lens

Bubble. Bubble. Bubble. The fish of the Ganges river had borne silent witness to plenty of unnatural occurrences over the years. With unblinking, unfeeling eyes fashioned to their slender bodies like marbles, the fish saw every conversation on the riverbed, every stone skipped across the surface, and every discarded or lost human possession that found its way into the waters of the Ganges.

Thud. Thud. Thud. The familiar tread of King Shantanu beat the path along the riverbed, trailed by the sound of soft mutterings and the occasional sigh. His habitual walks along the river were custom to the fish, and they paid him no mind.

Gurgle. Swish. Whir. The calm waters of the Ganges began to spiral towards the center of the river, disturbing a few disgruntled fish. Faster and faster the waters swirled, frothing the surface, churning the vegetation along the shore. The center of the spiral glowed with vibrant color. The eyes of the fish bulged out of their heads more than usual.

Crash. Slap. Silence. Forced rather abruptly out of their daze, the fish took stock of their surroundings. The Ganges had calmed, but the waters suddenly seemed duller, as if the river had fallen asleep. A new human figure was visible just beyond the wavy surface of the water, one which the fish did not recognize. Even their marble eyes could discern the radiance, color, and luminosity of the stranger gliding across the water's surface to the shore.

Mumble. Speak. Mutter. Losing interest in the now-finished phenomenon, the fish began to swim away one after the other. Two voices, one deeper and one higher, could be heard over the now quiet movements of the river. As the figures retreated from the riverbed hand in hand, the fish returned to their silent floating. Time continued to flow like a river.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Where there used to be only one pair of footsteps, now there were two. Every day, the fish felt the syncopated steps of the King and the colorful one beat their way up and down the riverbank together. Whispers replaced mutterings, laughter replaced sighs. Their steps fell into tandem as if the riverbank was a dance floor and they were performing a waltz to the music of the flowing water. No longer did the King walk alone.

Splashing. Shrieking. Stillness. Some time later, a new thing forcibly crashed into the river, causing the waters to ripple and the fish to momentarily perk up. This object was foreign to them. It wasn't much larger than the fish themselves, and at first moved about in the water; perhaps it was a fish as well? But, no, the object soon ceased its movements and drifted down to the murky depths of the river. The daily lives of the fish were to be briefly disrupted by these objects seven times.

Shout. Cry. Scream. A commotion on the riverbank caused the fish to roll their marble eyes to the water's surface. Two figures were visible through the hazy waters. The fish observed passively as the King made noises and gestured wildly at the colorful one. Suddenly, the brightly colored figure spoke quietly to the other, and then walked into the waters of the river until submerged completely. The waters of the Ganges glowed with radiant brilliance for a moment, then slowly faded to a barely perceptible glow. The King, left behind, paced the riverbank, wailing as he went. Perplexed, the fish eyed the remaining figure for a moment before returning to the once-again revived embrace of the current.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Where there used to be two, now there was one. Slowly, silently, the King continued to walk the riverbank. Every time he trudged past, the fish could feel the river weep.

The goddess Ganga of the Ganges river

Author's Note: For this story, I decided to tell the story of King Shantanu and the goddess Ganga's relationship from the perspective of the fish that lived in the Ganges river, since Ganga is the goddess of the river. I felt like the fish would make a perfect impartial audience with a skewed ability to narrate the story. Fish wouldn't understand any of the events that happened in this story, so it was kind of fun to try and describe things from the point of view of a fish. There were some stylistic liberties I took, so the fish in my retelling are a bit more perceptive than ordinary fish. In a way, though, that works even better, since the fish are connected to Ganga through the river. I'd like to think that the fish act as Ganga's eyes whenever she's not in human form, which is why I had the fish notice that King Shantanu and Ganga's steps were in tandem to suggest romance.

I also wanted King Shanantu to have some sort of perceptible relationship to the Ganges river itself, so that the story begins and ends with the two lovers separated but still connected through the river. In my version of this story, I imagine that Ganga fell in love with the King from watching him every day from the river, which would explain why when she appeared in the original story she looked at Shantanu like she was already in love with him. I also think it makes the story even sadder that since she promised to give birth to the Vasus, now she has to continue loving him from afar. I chose to leave Bhishma out of the story entirely, since I didn't think fish would understand those events.

Bibliography:

PDE Mahabharata, Indian Myth and Legend by Donald A. Mackenzie (1913)