My first lesson in water
was not from a map.
I stood a little apart
while my brother
placed my grandfather into the Ganga.
At Har Ki Pauri,
a priest kept chanting Sanskrit shlokas
without looking up.
The water felt high that day
but the river stayed calm.
That calmness felt strange to me.
Temple bells rang from far away—
not loud, just continuing.
It felt like a sound
meant to say goodbye
when words are not enough.
Later, in Delhi,
I saw another river in passing.
The Yamuna
moving through dust and distance,
as if it had learned
not to expect attention.
Then one day—
a photograph.
Niagara.
I did not understand it at first.
Just water
breaking its own edge
and refusing to stop.
I have never stood there.
But I see it like this:
people leaning hard on railings,
wind pulling at their sleeves,
mist already stuck on skin
before anyone notices.
The sound would not feel like water.
It would feel like something constant
hitting the air.
And beyond it—
the Horseshoe Falls
curving wide,
as if the earth has opened
and forgotten to close again.
I think of how water behaves.
At Har Ki Pauri,
it carried ash, prayer, silence—
And kept moving as if nothing had changed.
At Niagara,
it keeps falling
as if falling is the only thing it knows.
One day I will stand there.
I will not arrive empty.
That moment at the river
will already be inside me—
the priest’s voice,
the bells from far away,
my brother’s hands steady in water,
and me standing aside
not knowing where to look.
All of it
moving quietly together
when I finally face that falling water.
Source: The author, 2026
Kunal Sharma is a poet from Delhi, India. He explore memory, travel, and the emotional presence of landscapes in his writing.
This poem won an Honourable Mention in the Niagara Falls Poetry Project 25th Anniversary Poetry Competition. It will be published with all the other entrants in a print anthology to be published by Phylum Press. To reserve a copy of the anthology please email aporteus@niagarapoetry.ca