Nar­in and her Grand­ma had set­tled into a qui­et rou­tine by the Riv­er Tigris in 2014, find­ing peace in nature after their move to Zêrav to stay with rel­a­tives. The pair often sought solace by sit­ting on a large rock near the riv­er, reflect­ing on the sur­round­ings that had once been filled with life and pros­per­i­ty. The area, once home to bustling eater­ies with the aro­ma of grilled fish, par­tic­u­lar­ly mas­gouf, now appeared des­o­late, with build­ings decay­ing and for­got­ten. Nar­in, as per her reli­gious beliefs, refrained from eat­ing fish, and she felt a deep sad­ness for the loss of the vibrant ener­gy the place once held, wish­ing she could have expe­ri­enced it in its prime. Despite the melan­cholic atmos­phere, the river’s flow con­tin­ued to remind them of what had been, and it served as a poignant sym­bol of how time and neglect had changed the land around them.

Their peace­ful moment is abrupt­ly inter­rupt­ed when Grand­ma notices a scor­pi­on near­by, which sparks a philo­soph­i­cal con­ver­sa­tion between them about the silent lan­guage of nature. Grand­ma, ever thought­ful, explains how every­thing in nature com­mu­ni­cates in its own way, from the rustling leaves to the very still­ness of the air. She speaks of the impor­tance of lis­ten­ing, as even death and silence car­ry their own mes­sages, remind­ing Nar­in of how lit­tle is tru­ly under­stood about the world. Grandma’s obser­va­tions of the scor­pi­on, as dan­ger­ous as it is, reflect her broad­er per­spec­tive on the inter­con­nect­ed­ness of all things. Nar­in, while intrigued by these reflec­tions, remains hes­i­tant, as the notion of com­mu­ni­cat­ing with crea­tures that can be dead­ly unset­tles her, yet she is drawn into Grandma’s way of think­ing.

The moment takes a dark­er turn when Grand­ma, sens­ing some­thing unusu­al, leads Nar­in clos­er to the riv­er. They dis­cov­er a float­ing body in the water, an unset­tling sight that sharply con­trasts with their ear­li­er peace­ful reflec­tions. Grand­ma, upon see­ing the life­less fig­ure, expe­ri­ences a deep sense of sor­row, rec­og­niz­ing that anoth­er life has been tak­en, its body now car­ried by the cur­rent. Her attempts to retrieve the body are in vain, as the strong cur­rent keeps it just out of reach, despite her gen­tle prayers and efforts. This encounter with death forces Grand­ma to reflect on the harsh­ness of the world around them, leav­ing her with a sense of unease that lingers even as the day pro­gress­es. Her deci­sion to keep the inci­dent to her­self is prompt­ed by the rumors of dis­ap­pear­ances in the area, as the river’s dark his­to­ry con­tin­ues to haunt the vil­lage.

The Tigris Riv­er, once revered as a life­line for the peo­ple, had now become a sym­bol of loss and despair, car­ry­ing with it the rem­nants of count­less tragedies. The once-pris­tine waters, now pol­lut­ed by human waste, reflect a sad truth: the riv­er had become a for­got­ten grave­yard for those whose lives had been claimed by vio­lence, neglect, or mis­for­tune. The oppres­sive atmos­phere is com­pound­ed by the grow­ing fear of ISIS mil­i­tants in the region, with whis­pers of peo­ple dis­ap­pear­ing into the river’s depths or being tak­en by the ris­ing tide of vio­lence. Grand­ma, always attuned to nature’s whis­pers, con­tin­ues her habit of speak­ing to the ele­ments, find­ing solace in the belief that there is still com­mu­ni­ca­tion to be found in nature. Yet even as she con­nects with the land around her, there is an unde­ni­able sense of dan­ger lurk­ing, as though the riv­er and the earth them­selves are warn­ing them of the dark forces that threat­en their peace­ful exis­tence.

As the day fades into evening, the stark con­trast between nature’s beau­ty and the human suf­fer­ing around them becomes more appar­ent. Grand­ma and Nar­in, once com­fort­ed by the river’s flow, now find them­selves filled with a qui­et dread, under­stand­ing that their world, once full of vibran­cy and life, is being over­tak­en by an unseen threat. The omi­nous pres­ence of the riv­er, its waters taint­ed by pol­lu­tion and blood­shed, serves as a metaphor for the harsh real­i­ty they now face. With every step they take, they are remind­ed of the fragili­ty of life, the unspo­ken dan­gers sur­round­ing them, and the inevitabil­i­ty of change. This chap­ter marks a turn­ing point for Nar­in, as the haunt­ing images of the body in the riv­er and the grow­ing sense of dan­ger com­pel her to recon­sid­er her place in this world and the future of her peo­ple.