extol this image. Our poet-saint Manikkavachagar (8th century) sings of how he, the lowliest of the low, was raised to the right hand of God. And many like him describe the peace and bliss they found in this shrine. Next to the temple, the river Cauveri dominates life in Sattanur. All rivers in South India are called Cauveri, as all the rivers in Bengal are called the Ganga, but my village is on the Cauveri —the true Cauveri. The Cauveri begins as a rill in Coorg, in the far mountains of the western Ghats, runs through fertile Mysore and the not so fertile Salem and Trichy districts, and when it comes to the ancient land of the Chola kings (who reigned from about the 3rd century B.C. to the 12th century A.D.)—the present district of Tanjore—it is all “delta and indecision.” The river brings fertility and riches to this land. The first historical event associated with the Tamils has to do with the river Cauveri. Nearly two thousand three hundred years ago, the Cauveri was an erratic river flowing where it listed. The Chola king sent a punitive expedition to Lanka (Ceylon), took as many prisoners-of-war as he could, and brought them back to his land. He marked out, and allotted to every one of the prisoners three yards of the bank of the Cauveri. As soon as the prisoner had raised the bank twelve feet, he was free to go back to his land. The Cholas king provided food in plenty and comfortable ships to return home. He was a civilised king. The ten-foot-high bank of the Cauveri where you stand now is sacred ground: one man at least owes his freedom to it. No one could imagine life in Sattanur without the river. The villagers carefully watch its moods and interpret them jealously. On the river depend their lives and happiness. Next to the temple God, they worship the river Goddess in every season. The Tamil epic Silappadhikaram (written in the early centuries of the Christian era) extols the Cauveri in memorable verse: “Sister, Goddess of our homes, flow sweet and long. We look to you for our happiness. Bring us our wealth.” For eight months in the year the river flows; for nearly half of this period it overflows its banks. Brahmin and non-Brahmin, each have their hour and their day with the river: when the river is full, all the village, men, women and children, come for a dip. They would be considered sick both of mind and body if they did not come to the river to bathe in season. When the river runs dry, the intellectuals and the dissatisfied youth sit on the dry sands of an evening and thrash out many a problem. The vegetable crier, the betel leaf seller, the man or woman who comes morning and evening to milk the cows, the harijan who calls from one end of the street to take your cow and calf grazing, the handsome bamboo worker who splits the strong bamboos into strips to make articles of use and beauty, the peasant who brings you a large pumpkin as a present and hopes that, out of your kindness, you will let him off his overdue rent, the village barber with his tinbox under his arm, the village vaid (doctor), cousin to the barber with a box that is a cousin to the barber's own but is of stainless steel, a stray monkey and its young piercing the blue sky from the housetops—all are part of the village scene of the day. Even the variety of beggars, singing and chanting wellworn verses, accompanied often by monkeys or snakes or a bull, seldom annoy but deepen the peacefulness of this village scene. Now let me describe a few of the major annoyances of village life. I would like to begin with the morning newspaper. The papers of the day reach even Sattanur early in the morning, and morning to night, the discussion of current problems proceeds with endless variations. But the serious life of the village is in no way affected by any of the statements in the papers. The greatest of our general nuisances in Sattanur is the man of affairs. No one likes him but he gets at every one. He is always happy recounting other people's misfortunes. One fellow has In some Indian villages the government is now introducing profound changes as for instance in this rehabilitation colony in the Punjab, Nilokheri. In the picture a head man (chowdhari) from a surrounding village has come over to give some advice on the scheme. (Government of India Photograph)