Water problems in India

There is only one thing on everyone’s mind at this time of the year — how to bear or beat the heat. And the next thought is: Is there enough water for us to wallow in, take three showers a day, drizzle over our face and neck whenever we get the urge to cool off ...?

Somehow, in our wanderings across the country, whether in the Indian plains, the Deccan Plateau or hill stations, we seem to have a predilection for drought-prone areas. Even if there was plenty of water in a town, we got the area that had none, or the house that had a pipe problem — and water became an overriding issue that governed all else, especially our dealings with our neighbours.

In our first little one-room apartment, we had running water for an hour or so each day. Our bathroom was equipped with a large metal tub, probably a relic from the 19th century, given that our cubby hole was in a building that had seen at least a hundred years of wear and tear. But who were we to question the antecedents of that tub? We were grateful for its existence — and what’s more, it was filled with water! We were much too newly-wed to wonder whether perhaps the water had also been there since the 19th century — those kind of common-sense questions came later in life ...

We were too happy for our thoughts to dwell on the tub — until the day it sprang a leak and we found our home flooded and water running out from under the door — into the neighbour’s veranda. Naturally, we were labelled thoughtless, careless, inconsiderate and many other things. We did not even have the excuse of being young — because our neighbours were probably younger — but more experienced with the wayward water supply and the many sensible ways of storing it!

It also did not help that — since we had run dry — we had no choice but to plead shame-faced for a little water from those same neighbours until we invested in the biggest indoor plastic storage tank we could find!

Through the years, we had many such experiences. Of course, we learnt our lessons well and we tried to make sure that we were not the offenders, but were on the other side of the fence: Watching complacently from the back door as someone else’s tank overflowed or drained out — and getting ready to open the front door and hand over bottles or buckets of the precious liquid ...

We grew accustomed to filling buckets and basins and tubs and kitchen bowls and cups when there was a free flow from the taps. It was a great time to bond — with every member of the household — and sundry guests — roused from their slumber and rushing around in that half hour or so, day or night, with the sole purpose of storing enough water to see us through for at least a week. Where was the certainty that our pipes would sing again the next day and not just cough emptily?

It is no different now — but we think nothing of that early-morning vigil beside the tap a couple of times each week. Our day gets brighter — whether or not the sun has come up — when we hear that longed for gurgle and we catch every drop that gushes or trickles out of the tap. Then, mission accomplished, we sally forth to share with our neighbours the details of flow and time and volume.

Water is still an overriding factor for us — but now as a sure ice breaker rather than a relationship breaker.

Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.