The Crossing

We were to move to the next village, Kodra. A village that resided in between the embankments of the Kosi. And for this we had to cross one of the rivulets (some rivulet!) of the river.

The bank was steep. The water ran fast and swirled in eddies far below. This river was different. Her speed and power, even during the off-monsoon time, was not to be taken lightly. We waited patiently for the boat to come in from the other side.

No engines. No oars. How did it work, I wondered.

Two stumps, one on each bank. A strong, plastic rope tied around them, across the river. (ignore the people on the forefront ...)

Another piece of rope hung from this, something to hang on to?

And anybody could just pull themselves, on the boat, across.

Simple? Simple.