Water, or the lack of it, could well lead to wars in the future.
Most of us do not want to imagine, however, that these wars could take place in our lifetime or that of our children/grandchildren. We think that it will probably happen sometime in the distant future when Earth has been transformed into a science fiction-like parched desert and cyborgs and aliens are fighting it out in the sand.
Thus, the failure of the monsoon (so far) in our home state in India apparently does not make the average person punch any panic buttons and think about water conservation. Instead, we continue to insist on washing all tiled areas outdoors with running water instead of cleaning with a broom and a wet mop, and we hose down our vehicles, ignoring that wasteful rivulet that runs down the paved road to eventually evaporate in the sun ...
In our rather well-ordered group of apartments and houses, we have long had restricted supply of water: Forty-five minutes, every alternate day. Most of us manage well, given that we have individual storage tanks. If anyone does not conserve water, their tank gets empty and they either buy additional water, if available, or suffer for their profligacy until they wise up.
In some ‘cooperative housing societies’ and apartment buildings, however, the entire building, with upwards of eight or ten apartments, shares a common water tank fed by a bore-well and/or intermittent municipal water supply. So, if someone leaves a tap dripping, someone else insists on hosing down the stairs daily, yet another keeps the taps running through the entire cooking process ... that common tank — and eventually the common bore-well — runs dry and everyone suffers.
Tricky portfolio
One would think that this would lead to finger-pointing, drawing of battle lines (those who do not waste water versus those who do) and minor skirmishes, but it does not. True, there are rumblings of discontent, but with everyone similarly affected and no real proof of culprits, hostilities do not break out.
One civically inclined soul then takes over management of water resources to solve the crisis, decides on fixed timings for release of water, additional charges for replenishment from outside sources and other curbs — and that is when warring words over water begin and everyone forgets the word ‘cooperative’ in their title as accusations are hurled back and forth.
It doesn’t matter that no one else stepped up to take over that tricky portfolio of water management. She (or he) is quickly branded a dictator. “Don’t tell us what to do and how to do it!” they protest. “Just make sure you get the taps flowing again!”
“You take over,” she says magnanimously, but they would rather not take up the responsibility and place themselves in the crosshairs of the group, so they “let” her go ahead.
But soon, she is accused of corruption. “Pump repair should be half that price,” or “We could get water tankers at lower rates ...”
She wants to throw up her hands and ask why they didn’t do all that if they could, but she is determined not to fight fire with fire. First the supply of water needs to be assured for everyone, her home included.
But, once the water starts flowing again, she feels honour-bound to post guidelines for conservation of water, given the failure of the monsoon and the bleak prospects for next year. And the others balk again, apparently having forgotten their geography lessons about rainfall, replenishment of ground water and the water table.
“What has the rain got to do with our bore-well and our water supply?” someone responds impatiently — and this time, she has no reply. Her well of reason has run dry.
Perhaps ignoring reality could bring on those water wars faster than anticipated.
Cheryl Rao is a freelance writer based in India.
