Water on tap

I just finished washing the morning dishes. Nothing to it. Turn on the tap. Wash. Turn off the tap. Water gushing out. Water swirling away – soap-sudsy – clean dishes put up on the rack to dry. The pleasure of cleanliness.

For the last 1.5 years, however, that hasn’t been the norm in the Eicher household. We have had water come through the taps – but intermittently. Usually between 6 AM – 10 AM and 7 PM – 10 PM.

Our lives pretty quickly arranged themselves around the water timings. Baths, washing clothes, dishes, plants, floors – all done in the shortest time possible to maximise the water availability.

Many an evening meeting or other engagement was not done because of having to be present for the evening water flow. Domestic life follows water availability.

Things have taken a turn for the better with the society wrangling a new water connection to the municipal water supply. For 2 weeks now we have had the luxury of water on tap. Almost round the clock.

Before we go back to assuming this is normal, spare a thought for most of the rest of our city. The majority of the greater Mumbai’s 18+ million have minimal access to water. Our urban population, by the way, is more than the population of Australia – maybe we need to have the next cricket series between Mumbai and the Ozzies.

The great thirsty metropolis is sending its feelers ever further into the hinterland to slake its unending thirst. We already are tapping reservoirs 200 kms away from us – with huge pipes sending the water Mumbai-ward.

But then the question of distribution takes place. The pipes are not ‘on’ all the time. They fill up local tanks – which then supply to their designated areas. These also release the water at certain times. The power that the ‘water engineers’ wield is huge. An extra few minutes here and there – can earn them a pretty packet. As can not releasing water even if they have it in their tanks.

Housing societies like ours demand water. And are willing to pay. This has led to a huge industry of ‘water tankers’ – beat up trucks that fill up water and bring it to the societies – where it is emptied into the society’s tank – for a fee. It is in the interest of the tanker operators for there to be water shortages. A bit of money given here and there can insure this – even in times of plenty. And then again – the huge demand for water and the dizzying rise of apartments ensure that however much is slurped through the big pipes into the city – there will always be a need for more.

For the poor, water means a common tap. Lines of plastic vessels waiting for it to start flowing. Or a meagre amount dripping through a small pipe.

Living as privileged elite, we found the rationing of water for a few hours each day hard to take. For most people its not a matter of hours – but of minutes.

Or of kilometres.

Away from the razzle-dazzle of Mumbai-town, vast stretches of the rural hinter-land continue to eke out the barest of necessities. Women (it always falls on their shoulders) lift containers of water and walk from the nearest well or river to their homes – small, thin water-tankers, bearing the fluid of life.