Two Drops of Water
Lakshmi was stunned to see those ruffians standing on the way. She thought about changing the way but by then Gajju saw her. She tried to hide the bottle of water in her saree unsuccessfully and stopped there and started looking at them with helplessness.
The sun was setting and the light was steadily decreasing. Her son who has been thirsty since yesterday was waiting for her to return and here she came in the eyes of those four goons.
They started moving towards her and her heartbeats became rapid. She started praying to God in her mind that somehow she would escape this situation. All four may molest her— but leave water bottle which she was carrying. Her fingers tightened on the bottle hidden in her saree.
"O Lakshmi— Why are you so scared to see us?" Birju asked her staring at her from nearby.
Her lips moved, but she could not speak anything.
“And what are you hiding?" Gajju said in a sceptical tone.
“No, nothing." She could hardly speak.
“Let me see.” Gajju tried to look.
She knew that they would do the same thing... She tried to run away turning quickly but they grabbed her and tried to pull her hand out of the pallu. She resisted a lot but how long she could fight four strong men.
“Oh— water!" On seeing the water bottle, their eyes sparkled.
“My son is thirsty since yesterday... let me go." She pleaded.
But why would they bother about her or her child? The water had violently aroused their thirst and they tried to snatch it and she fought on her side to save it. At the same time, she was also requesting for help... It was not that there was no public, but who would fight with goons. How Lakshmi could also let that water go so easily... She knew how precious that water was for her.
She, her husband Shyamu and their only son Nikku drank water last night and till now there was no chance of getting water again. Shyamu had tried this along with earning throughout the day but today no water was available. They both were big and strong they could bear thirst but how could a child bear it for so long— he became restless by evening.
She could not see her child's agony and she left home. Ramdhari was a smuggler of water and often used to sell water in black, but since there was no supply of water today, even he did not have it but not for money, he was ready to give a bottle of water for Lakshmi’s body. Now the body was not more important than the thirst of her son.
She surrendered herself to Ramdhari and for of a bottle of water, Ramdhari satisfied his sexual desire— this water was so precious for her, how would she let it be looted like that.
But those were four stout men and she was a lonely weak woman… how long would she fight? She lost soon and the bottle reached the hands of those goons. They lifted the bottle and laughed in such a winning manner as if they had won the World Cup trophy… However, the water was equally precious and she was watching them helplessly with wistful expressions and moist eyes.
"Give water back... do whatever you want with me... but give water." She said with a desperate disappointment.
She was left with this last option... as they might value her vagina more than water, but no… even on this criterion, they preferred water. They walked with an ignoring look at her and she could not do anything except looking at them with a defeated spirit.
The water was lost— even going back to Ramdhari was not the solution. She stood up and walked home with faltering steps.
Shyamu was waiting for her while consoling the son, who was restless. Shyamu's eyes glowed when he saw her, but seeing her condition, his expectations shattered.
"What happened— didn't you get water from Ramdhari?" He asked anxiously.
And her patience broke. She cried hugging Shyamu. Shyamu tried to handle her and insisted to tell what has happened. She told the whole story crying. Now Shyamu's cry also broke out due to his condition and helplessness... Seeing both of them the son also started crying.
The whole family was crying and the night was getting darker. She made chapatis and chutney, but to swallow it, there had to be water… which they had no availability of.
Tired of crying, they became calm… their mind started thinking of the past.
The condition was not like this always— at times there were happy days when they used to have plenty of water and today they are yearning even for two drops of water. When there was water, they used to waste it unwisely.
It is our problem that we did not know to live properly. Neither did we learn to become ideal citizens nor did we become responsible humans. What was readily available in nature, we took it for granted and completely escaped from our responsibilities towards what nature is giving us.
And it is not that the reasons behind it were backwardness, illiteracy or poverty— rather intellectuals, educated all have been involved in this wastage. Neither did we could bear our responsibility in a democratic system nor did we ever show understanding of the consumption and accumulation of resources provided by nature.
Policies in the system are made by the ruling class, which has two parts— governance and administration. We are responsible to choose irresponsible, corrupt, selfish and unqualified people in the administration, and where the policies had to be formulated, there also we sent inefficient people influenced by money, liquor, caste and irrelevant issues like religion, nationalism, etc. who played an active role in the loot of the resources with their capitalist sponsors.
One had to bear the consequences. In today's date, the condition of the water was such, that for it, there was a similar war on all the borders of the country, whose root was the same water of the rivers which used to bring floods and today it was being the ground for war.
It was just a city... but it was a symbol of the whole of India. It was the mirror of entire India— It was India in itself.
Once there was water was in abundance. There were wells, ponds, lake, clean river flowed through the city. The groundwater was available at the depth of just forty feet. There was a lot of water everywhere... but the same human tendency that what is readily available, is never valued. It will be considered valuable which is gained by struggle… for which everything has to be at stake.
The intellectuals kept insisting to save water but it proved to be a cry in the wilderness.
Then there were wells and hand pumps for drinking water. Tanks were built by the municipality, which used to supply water to large areas but then the people were poor, they were not well developed and the population was also less.
The population kept increasing and people started earning more money. They became luxuriant with the change in their circumstances. They started drilling the ground first with jet pumps and then with submersible pumps to get water. The wells first dried, then they as well as ponds were dumped with solids with the growing population. Hand pumps were also dried... People of affluent society were extracting groundwater day and night— if a jug of water was required, they used to waste four buckets. The tanks on the roofs flowed for hours.
And those who could not afford the groundwater were started supplying water from the lake… Mini tubewells were provided in abundance but those people were also no less in wasting water. They also did not show any mercy.
Buildings that exploited the water indiscriminately in the city were constructed. Bungalows continued to be built. Cars were bought as the buying capacity increased— and it became a fashion to wash them daily. The money brought water wasters such as purifiers, washing machines, readymade plastic bathtubs to every household. Essential things like water recharge system were limited to papers, slogans and intellectuals' thinking.
The lake, which was once sufficient to provide water after getting filled during the rainy season, was now exhausted in six months— it became polluted as well.
Now the supply of water was started from the river... but this increased prosperity was also because of the factories, which used to dump their waste in the river. These belonged to the people who had hold in the governance and administration and protest of people used to be futile. Then the drains of all the city used to discharge in the river.
The river had become a drain soon... But whatever it was, it was the hope of those people. A sewage treatment plant was set up there but it used to cost a lot and provide very less water so gradually it became expensive and its billing started. The houses were fitted with meters and water was available up to a limit.
Six months of the year, that is during the three months of the rainy season and three months thereafter, they used to get that much water that they could live. The later three months required them to use water with great economy and shortage, but the first three months before the rainy season used to be highly problematic when every drop of water would become precious.
During this time, they would live the most difficult moments of life… There was black marketing of water, robbery and murder for it. The lake used to dry up, the water of the river used to be supplied parsimoniously— carrying the tankers to the areas. Here also the discrimination between rich and poor used to be maintained… The government used to give subsidized water for the poor and non-subsidized water for the rich, which was very expensive. But the only comfort for the rich was that they could buy water even in the price of petrol, while the poor and common people were able to get a pot of water even after fighting and giving their money too.
Tankers were also not safe and there used to be shootouts for it. As a result, police had to provide security to the tankers the same way as if a minister is provided with a Z security.
Rich was able to pay more money to get water for cooking, drinking and even for bathing, defecation etc. though they take bath once a week, the common man could not think of using water even for defecation. They would use newspaper as toilet paper— though they had to go outside for defecation very early in the morning. Bathing was possible only when it was raining, if needed in the middle, then they used to plunge in the drain like a river and wash clothes there. There used to be fair throughout the day on the bank of the river. Thankfully the sewage treatment plant was at the starting of the city, otherwise, the water would also become like mud going ahead.
The rest, who were of a little lazy tendency— had little ability to struggle, they used to cover themselves half by wearing strange clothes of paper, sacks, polythene so that they can throw them away after getting dirty. The little water that could be available after buying, was spent in cooking and cleaning some utensils.
And those people who were not able to spend money, that is, the people at the very last rung of the system… there was no hope left for them. Many used to die daily.
And this was not the condition of anyone city, but of the whole world, that was suffering from water crisis and the condition of India was most terrible because its huge population had become lethal for it. The three months before the rains were like doom for the whole country and many used to die of thirst.
Cities which did not have sources of water like river and lake were destroyed. They were left deserted as the population migrated and where these resources were still there, they used to spend only six months in a proper manner and the last three months used to be horrible. Most people were rushing towards the coastal areas and rich, capable people— in the lowlands of the mountains— where the glaciers were constantly melting snow, so the rivers had water throughout the year.
But the condition of the rest of the country was very bad, and it was hell for the poor and common people due to increasing temperature day by day, non-availability of uninterrupted power supply, then the battle of water and the struggle for earning above all.
Now even the monsoon used to start late and many people would die waiting for it.
She was remembering her old days looking at the roof… the old days of Indians… the old days of humans...
Nature had provided us with water in abundance but we did not value it.
A flash of sudden lightning broke her thoughtful state.
She looked at Shyamu in surprise— he too started looking at her. Both were so absorbed in their thoughts that the foil stuck in the mesh of the outer window suddenly started to flutter and they did not realize it. Their eyes sparkled… They felt liveliness in their fagged body. They sat up and started looking into each other's eyes.
They were questioning and answering each other with gestures of eyes— and their hearts started beating fast again with joy. They got up and came out into the open courtyard.
And... there was a signal for its arrival. There was moisture in the air, there was a smell of water and it was spreading as if it was giving a message of happiness. The clouds had begun to gather in the sky. It started lightning. Light along with thunder was an indication of quenching the thirst of dried earth.
Both of them brought all the utensils of the house to the courtyard so that they can store two to four days of water in one rain. They also brought the son to the courtyard and laid him on the ground in the courtyard... and both raised their eyes to look at the sky with hope. At the same time, they started praying to God that their hopes should not shatter.
And it was not broken... suddenly it started raining as if the sky was showering nectar. The noise of joy from all around began to harmonize with the sound of that rain. They danced happily… as they were about to lose their son. Their hopes had become alive for one more year… They whirled.
Now it was raining heavily and both of
them were dancing like crazy. The son had opened his mouth and drops of water
descended into his mouth transmitting energy in him.
(A story from my book Vulture feast)
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