Many Waters

Is your water the same as mine?

Two hydrogens bonded to an oxygen

Precipitating, washing, wasting, evaporating

From the clouds, the sea, the rivers, the blood, the body

The gutters, the sewers, the toilets

Maybe, when I say water, I mean life.

So I mean to ask, is your life the same as mine? 

3:00 AM. The summer heat was less brutal as compared to daytime. The streets were empty. A soft hum of air conditioners and electric fans drifted from the few houses beside the river. Samyak got off his motorcycle and parked it a little far from the borewell to avoid getting in the way of the four tankers tailing him. His father, irritated as usual, still barked at him to get out of their way. He simply nodded and stood where he was. His father’s attention quickly shifted to the men who had by then gotten to work.

“Boss, we need to find new sources—”

“Yeah, the water is running low.”

His father’s expression turned grim. Pipes attached to the tankers were swiftly connected to a borewell and a steady buzz of diesel engines ensued. They began filling the tankers one by one. Samyak watched intently. His mother didn’t like it when he followed his father to work at night, because then he slept in school. His father didn’t care. Or maybe he did, Samyak was unsure.

The operation took more time than usual. Samyak remembered the time his teacher spoke of the city's steadily depleting groundwater. He tried speaking to his father about it back then, which led to his father sourly lecturing him about the importance of his work.

The government doesn’t care about my customers. I give them water when they are dying of thirst!

Samyak didn’t dare to mention that his father charged them a solid fee for the water too.

They managed to fill only three of the four tankers. Samyak sighed and walked back to his motorcycle, which his dad gifted him last year. Technically, he shouldn’t have been riding it since he was underage. But no one caught him because of his father’s contacts. 

As he twisted the key in the ignition, he felt his father's arm around his shoulders. He looked up, surprised.

“The water is running out.”

Silence. His father’s grip tightened—not uncomfortably, but affectionately.

“You must pay attention in school.”

For a brief second his father made an odd expression, a mixture of fear and exhaustion. But the expression was quickly replaced by his usual scowl. His father went back to barking at his men. Samyak smiled.

Anmol woke up late. Her fever seemed to have subsided. She got up from the mattress on the floor and looked around. Her father had already left for his shop. She walked into the adjoining room. Her mother was loudly chatting with the neighbour at the door. They both seemed upset. Her sister, Paridhi, was standing beside their mother, keenly absorbing every word of the conversation. Paridhi noticed her and slipped away.

“You’re up! I heard you got a fever last night”

“Yes. What happened to mother?”

“Oh, the tanker left, but we couldn’t fill the drums.”

Anmol groaned. She knew what this meant. They would have to accompany their mother to her workplace and fill water in buckets for the next 10-12 days, till the next water tanker arrives.

She turned around, ran to her mattress and went back to sleep. She would deal with this when she had to.

Rani finished eating the scraps from a dustbin outside a shanty hotel, her usual spot. Her name differed from place to place. Not that she cared, she was after all a dog. Some people just called her expletives and threw stones at her. But she only responded to Rani because the people who called her Rani usually fed her their leftovers and didn’t hit her. She decided to head to the neighbourhood where these people lived, not too far away.

She was about to cross the road to head to her usual sleeping spot when it started raining. It was slight at first—just a drizzle. In a matter of a few minutes, it started pelting. Rani yelped. She hated the rain. She hated being wet. She had to find shelter soon.

She ran across the road towards the abandoned car that she usually slept under and crawled beneath it. She closed her eyes. It was going to be a cold night.

In just a few hours, Rani started noticing that her ordeal was far from over. The water kept rising, submerging her in it, and she panicked. She got out from under the car and started running into the lane of her favourite neighbourhood. Apart from one apartment building at the end of the road, all the other houses ranged from dilapidated buildings to crude shelters with makeshift doors.

People were up and about, trying to figure out what to do with the water, mostly from the sewage, that had invaded their homes. They were not sure how long the rain would last. Some had already started packing their belongings while others were considering their options, which were not many to begin with. No one paid attention to Rani as she skirted through the crowd.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice.

“Rani!”

Rani turned around nervously.

“Rani! Here, come!”

She ran towards the source. It was the girl who usually fed her scraps. The girl’s father scolded her.

“Here our house is full of water, and you are inviting stray dogs?!”

She ignored him with a frown and lifted Rani into her arms.

The girl stepped into her flooded house, a single room. Her mother and siblings were packing their important belongings into plastic gunny bags, and keeping everything else on worn out plastic tables. They watched her carefully place Rani on the table next to their things.

“What is this?” Her mother asked. She knew Rani, and occasionally provided her with food too.

“I am not leaving her.” The girl turned to face her mother with a determined expression.

Her mother stood with her hands on her waist, evaluating the situation. Water from the tarpaulin above was leaking into the house. A drop fell on her face. She turned and walked to one of the gunny bags, retrieving an old cloth which she threw towards the girl. The girl caught it, looking at her mother expectantly.

“Wipe her. I think we have some biscuits too.”

“Rinky you cannot cheat like this!”

“I do not cheat! And I am not out.”

“The ball clearly brushed the wicket.”

“No, it did not!”

“Raghu yaar, why is your sister so stubborn?”

Raghu merely shrugged and looked at the darkening sky. His parents had asked him and Rinky to come back home early today, to discuss something important. He felt heavy. He already knew what the discussion was going to be about. The problem was that Rinky did not have a clue.

“Rinky, we have to go home early anyway. Just give him the bat.”

Rinky frowned. She handed the bat to her friend, who snatched it from her. She stuck out her tongue in response.

“I am leaving only because I have to. I am not out!” She declared and started running towards her house. Raghu sighed, said bye to their friends and started running after her.

“Stop running!” He shouted as he slowly caught up to her. She slowed down with a dramatic groan and only stopped when he put a hand on her shoulder.

“Why do you always take their side?”

“I took no one’s side.”

“You always say that, but you take their side.”

“Okay sorry baba.” He said, holding his ears. She decided it was good enough and returned to her usual cheery self.

“So what do you think it is? Maybe we are finally getting a TV?” Raghu shrugged. It was definitely not a TV, but he was going to let his parents break the news to her.

Their house was part of a group of settlements near a few factories where both their parents worked. It was a kilometre and a half from their playground. They used to play closer to home, but there was too much garbage and sewage water around. The houses were also tightly packed, leaving little to no space for play.

Once Raghu and his friends had snuck out to swim near the lake where the factories dump their waste. Luckily, one of their fathers’ friends saw them. They got a good beating that day. That was also the day they learned why they were only allowed to drink the water that the adults gave them.

“That water is poisonous, son.” His father later tried to console Raghu, who was not speaking to anyone.

“So many people in our community keep falling sick. It is because of the water.”

“Then why do we live here? I hate this place!” Raghu broke down again.

His father said nothing but pulled him closer.

The truth was, he didn’t hate the place. This was all he had ever known. It was his home. And he knew Rinky felt the same.

Raghu and Rinky took off their slippers and stepped into a dimly lit room. Their parents were already there, in conversation. They stopped midway when they noticed Raghu and Rinky.

“What is it mother! Are we getting a TV?” Rinky asked excitedly, cutting straight to the chase. His mom gave their father a look, and he slowly began speaking.

“Rinky, do you remember when we went to the mall?”

She nodded.

“You had so much fun there. We also went to the museum?”

“Yes, it was nice. But very far. I got tired on the bus ride back.”

“Right, but you liked the city, didn't you?”

“It was okay. There were too many cars. And the noise was quite awful.”

“Yes, but we saw so many gardens. It would be nice to have such a clean place to play cricket in, don’t you think so?”

Raghu looked at Rinky’s face as her brain churned. She had figured it out but she didn’t want to say it. Tired of his parents beating around the bush, he looked at Rinky and said: “We are moving to the city. Permanently.”

“NO!” She yelled. Raghu knew what was about to ensue, so he got up and sat on the steps outside their front door. He could hear her shouting at his parents, and them losing their patience. Finally, the sound of a slap. Rinky started bawling.

Raghu looked at the street. A part of him did want to leave. He knew that his father had been right. People here fell sick quite often. Some even died. He was reminded that his parents paid a lot for water tankers to get good water, and it was a financial burden. And it wasn’t just the water. It was the air too. As much as he loved his home, he had to admit that it was poisoned.

The door opened behind him and Rinky sat down next to him, sobbing.

“You never take my side,” She said between hiccups.

“They have made up their minds. What can I do?”

“But won’t you miss home? Our friends and school. Our neighbours. I know you like Sonam. Are you ready to leave her behind?”

Raghu blushed momentarily.

“How do you? That… that’s not the point. Our parents want us to be healthy and safe. They want us to have a good life. The city will give us that. And yes, I will miss everyone, but there isn’t much we can do. They are our parents. We have to listen to them.”

Rinky thought about this for a while.

“Besides, we will make new friends. Especially you. You are such a chatterbox, you will definitely make friends.” He teased her, nudging her slightly with his elbow. She wiped her tears and smiled sadly.

They sat in silence for some time, watching people wrap up their day. Finally, Rinky got up.

“I am hungry.”

“Me too.”

“Raghu?”

“Yes?”

“I think it will be okay.”

“I think so too.”

About the author

Madhushree is the founder of Understory. Having grown up in urbanscapes, she loves exploring questions of mobility, access and marginalisation in Indian cities. You can find her work here: madhushreek.com

About the editor

Neeraja Kulkarni is a Research Analyst with the Foreign Policy and Security vertical at CSEP. Her work spans topics including just energy transitions, wildlife conservation, and climate security, with a focus on critical minerals supply chains and equitable development in South Asia and East Africa. She recently supported the Wilson Center's Environmental Change and Security Program and China Environment Forum in Washington DC. Neeraja has previously published for Wilson Center’s New Security Beat, Stimson Center's South Asian Voices, Fair Observer, The Diplomat, and Climate Policy Lab. She holds a master's degree specializing in International Development and Environmental Policy from The Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University.

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