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Thursday, January 16, 2014

'Water Shortage' - A story by M Romail Khan (of class O’ Levels Final year) whose pen will never cease pouring out descriptions of newer and newer situations. He’s creative, pro-active when challenged --- with his restless mind always brimming with ideas and thoughts. Enjoy reading!


Water Shortage

"Mr. Kamran, your water tank is overflowing again...!" I informed my neighbour, shouting it from the roof of my house, hoping he had heard me. It was all the voice I could summon at that moment, seeing the lack of humidity in the air.

 It hadn't rained in months. Our city was suffering from semi-drought, and amidst all this, Mr.Kamran was letting his water tank overflow most negligently,  as he had always done.
"Ok. Thank you." I heard Mr. Kamran limping up the stairs to his roof.

"With all due respect Sir, you do know we are facing a drought. The whole neighborhood is portioning water to get by. I fear you may run out of your reserve." I explained to him.
"Yes, you're right. I'll be careful next time." He said as per routine, turning a deaf ear to my advice, albeit with politeness.

A week later, holding up his News paper dated 22/7/2018, I noticed Father gasp in sorrow. “There you have it. India has completed constructing another dam over the river Jhelum." he threw the paper on the table with his feet, “… now let’s wait for the biggest ordeal --- the inevitable drought.”

After about a month of treating water as an unaffordable luxury, I found myself looking at my colony. Brown, dry and... quiet. All I could see was houses and wood. The trees were barren, so were the roads and most of the houses. I  listened and hoped to hear the sound of my neighborhood kids playing, the sweet birds chirping, or any other sign of life, but in vein.  All I heard was an ear piercing scream from below.

" I can't take another day of this. I need to bathe. I stink of two weeks of sweat!" I heard a familiar voice shouting at Mr. Kamran. It was Nafisa, Mr. Kamran's eldest daughter.

After a brief second of utter silence, I heard footsteps from her house, climbing, or limping up the stairs.  "Mr. Kamran!" I  greeted to the dry face emerging next to me.

"Nauman, Hello!" I got a dry reply. Before I could inquire how he was doing, his dry lips seemed to mumble.

"You were right," He bid an overdue confession.
"Sorry?"

“About the water reserve, you were right," he paused to choke with his dry mouth." It's all gone, all of my water. Only a negligible amount left to boil for drinking."

It both shocked and pained me to see a lone tear trickle down his face. His dry, chapped skin seemed to twitch under the unexpected moisture of his tear. It was not just his family, but my family too. In fact, all the families I thought to constitute my neighborhood were suffering from water shortage. I had to think of my own family too. Knowing  my own personality, my sub-conscious pleaded my heart to show selfishness and try to take every bit of pity I felt towards Mr. Kamran and his family. After a few seconds of fighting it, I finally, reluctantly uttered  " I could lend you a little water from our own reserve."

"You would do that for me?....for my family??" I could sense the naive disbelief in his eyes. Come to think of it, why would he believe something like that? After a few seconds of standing numb, staring into the sky, I sighed "Yes, I'll do it for your family. Just don't tell my father." A part of me wanted to restrain from giving him even a drop of water, as he had worn out his whole reserve despite my recurrent warnings, but some part inside me wailed to help him.

A week passed and I kept on miserly smuggling water from our reserve to his home. Conditions of the city were getting worse day by day. Everyone’s reserves draining fast day by day. Sun baked Zombies, roaming the streets with dry mouths and parched tongues.

Our water reserve was drying as well, and now with twice the pace, as I had been betraying my family by smuggling our treasure, a bucket of it a day to Mr.Kamran's family.


Two weeks later, on a hot September morning, I woke up early to get ready for a boring day of repeated routine. Placing a bucket under the sink, I lazily crooked the tap to fill the bucket, drop-by-drop as the sink had always let go of our perishing reserve. As I waited for the sink to cough up liquid treasure, I could hear a different noise - a noise long forgotten. A wheezing noise filled the air.

WHUSSHH!!

The sound of water gushing out of the tap filled my ears. It was music to my ears. I stood stiff as I saw the entire 8-litre bucket fill up in half a minute.

Over joyous, giddy as a schoolboy, I exploded out the door and spotted heaven.

The water sparkles rattled into life, rhythmically dispersing water to the dead grass in the park. The sprinkles of water bombarded my face, refreshing my mind, my body. A new hope sparkled in my eyes, now being sprinkled by sweet H2O.

I rushed outside and saw the paper lying flat on the ground. The three headlines on Page one, reporting:

"MASSIVE FLOODS IN INDIA. ALL DAMS COLLAPSED."

"ALL WATER NOW DIVERTING TO PAKISTAN. PAKISTANI RIVERS OVERFLOWING WITH WATER."

"MASSIVE LOSS OF LIFE AND PROPERTY IN MAJOR PARTS OF INDIA."

Although I felt bad for the Indian lives lost, this sorrow was obscured by my own discovery of life.


 
M. Romail Khan
O’ Levels Final Year
PakTurk International Schools
Islamabad

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