It was a happy, healthy land, where everyone worked together to keep everything around them in order.

In the present day, a small child is playing with a ball on the banks of one of the rivers. The ball tumbles away from him, falls into the mosaic of garbage strewn over the river and floats on it's colourful surface. The child dives into the water, not realising that under that seemingly harmless surface lurks broken pieces of objects that we've all thoughtlessly tossed out of our lives, caring little where they ended up. He is tangled, cut, swallowed up, never to play again.

This is what's happened to the Bagmati, once a symbol of purity for the residents of the Kathmandu Valley, and it's heartbreaking. Not a single day goes by that I don't feel sorry for the state that it's in today. People have

told me, time and again, that the young are the future of this country. That feels more and more like wishful thinking.

Tons and tons of garbage from our homes get dumped onto our streets every day, but most of us barely notice anymore, happy to thread through the trash while walking. The river banks, where a large chunk of the waste ends up, courtesy of the garbage trucks that pick them up from homes and streets, have come to resemble something out of an dystopian tale—mountains of trash stretching as far as the eye can see.

As accustomed as we might have grown to the sight, the smell is a whole other issue altogether. Sometimes, when you're somewhere close to the Bagmati and it's windy, an unmistakable stench will soon catch your attention—it's the smell of decaying garbage, filling up your nostrils, making you cringe. It's not surprising when one hears that Kathmandu has once again been relegated a spot in the list of the top-most polluted cities in the world; it's bitter, but it's the truth.

We need to take action—if not solve, then at least work, at mitigating this problem. We've turned a once-pure body of water into a teeming repository of germs and disease, a risk to the health of anyone who comes into contact with it. Like with most things in life, there are two paths we could take at this juncture: The first is the easy one, the second is the right one. We need to pick the latter even though we might encounter a great many difficulties that way. Even a journey that is a thousand miles long begins with a single step, after all. And I want us all to take that step, start the journey.

I'm not saying there haven't already been efforts aimed at cleaning up the Bagmati—I once witnessed a number of foreigners who were wearing masks and picking up trash from the banks—but there needs to be more well-planned and sustained work in that direction, particularly from locals. It's the only way we can effect change.

I am not an expert on environmental practices, but even I can see that it's not an impossible mission. The first thing to do is to awaken our collective consciousness regarding the need for not just a cleaner Bagmati, but cleaner surroundings in general. Once that is in place, we could perhaps organise more regular clean-up programmes, engaging the youth in our efforts. The government should create more parks and open spaces on the banks, and be strict in keeping these trash-free.

Another effective means would be to regulate household trash—teaching people to dispose of different materials in the right way. Separating waste would be of enormous help; plastic and metallic containers set aside to be recycled, for instance. And in the age of the Internet, we could make great use of social networking sites and other platforms to rally support for our cause.

I think deep in our hearts, all of us are well aware of what we ought to do; we're just too passive to take it up, or believe that we can't make a difference on our own. This is why we need to come together to discuss and come up with doable solutions that will have a long-term impact. We're capable of anything if we put our hearts and minds into it—we just need to start somewhere.

prety is an A-level student at Budhanilkantha School