| Once we had settled down with our drinks and taken the first sip that invariably makes the world go down a lot better, my friend said evenly, without trying to look worried: so tell me what's this water business; it must be pretty serious as you seem to value it more than your whisky. |
| I explained a bit lamely that the condition had befallen me ever since we moved into our new flat. There almost never is enough water. Within days of shifting self, family and furniture, I was on the phone to the water tanker company asking when did they think they could fulfil the promise they had made several times at half-hour intervals? When on earth will the water come? The water would invariably come but after hours of anxiety, which threatened to give me the ulcers. |
| My friend heard me out in patience and then asked, as gently as he could: isn't there a municipal corporation in this global city of yours which supplies piped water? He had touched a raw spot and I needed all my restraint not to lose my cool. That's the whole point, I replied. The water comes once in two days, in the dead of night, so that no one knows when it comes and goes. And there never is even the bare minimum. |
| I paused for dramatic effect and continued: my first job every other morning, even before I have enjoyed my first cup of tea (that needs water, in case you have forgotten!), is to go down to the forecourt, lift the cover to the underground tank and get down on all fours in the most ungainly fashion to figure out how far below the water level is and decide when exactly to start calling for the tanker. |
| My friend did a fine job of both savouring the whisky and making a commiserating noise from somewhere at the back of his pallet and replied: that's really bad. I also don't know when the water comes in Cal. I am told it is twice a day at around six. But at 6 am, I am asleep, and at 6 pm, I am in office. However, I haven't quite lost my top on that. Ok, so there's a water shortage here, but why get unhinged over that, he asked. |
| Had even my close friend gone mad, one part of my brain asked, and another part answered, the surest sign that you have gone mad is to think others have done so. However, with all the self-control I could command, I explained as calmly as I could: don't you realise these are the first signs that we are heading for a global water crisis and we have to do all we can to prevent it? |
| My friend now began to look worried and said: you are getting as paranoid as the Yanks did when Opec first upped the price of oil. Even at his unsympathetic best, he had hit the nail on the head. You are dead right, I interjected, we are heading for a similar crisis and this one is genuine, not artificially created by a cartel. And it's high time we all started saving water. Don't top up your drink like that; the whisky is good enough to have neat or at worst on the rocks. |
| My friend replied: yes, the whisky is really good, but you.... |
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