There was a wooden bridge on the river, and when it rained up on the hills the river became a nightmare, it tried to claw away the wooden bridge, crossing it took lot of courage.
So many lives were lost.
One night the village head was returning from his daughter’s home, on the other side of the river, the river was raging but he had to cross, his wife was not well.
When he was in the middle of the bridge he heard a shrill cry, coming from the boiling river, he saw a small boy in the churning foam and without thinking jumped into the water, to save him.
He remembered clutching the child and feeling that his body was not flesh, but metal, next thing he remembered a pair of strong hands pulling them both out of the water.
He opened his eyes in the bank of the river, safe and sound.
His body was aching to hint that it was not a dream. He looked around and gaped, overnight the wooden bridge was replaced by a strong metal bridge. The river was trying to reach it but was intimidated and tamed by its strength.