12/11/2019
We are in Sardarpura, a sleepy village 150 KM southwest of New Delhi, India. Women have gathered at the village square. They are tapping empty matkas, earthen water pots, to produce melodious beats. One is humming the lament of the bride,
“Dhola thare desh men, moti marvan aant. Daroo milti mokali, paani ki koni chhant.”
Oh, Beloved!
In your land
Not a drop of water
Brides have to fetch water from miles
It is hard to survive but for your love
Thus laments a bride.
The melody is drowned out by sudden commotion. The children start running on dusty streets yelling “Pani Aagayaa. Paani Aagayaa” (Water has come! Water has come!). Women wrapped in vibrant colors rush with their matkas, large clay pots, resting on their waists – only to join the queue of matkas that arrived before them. The water tanker had just arrived. It only took two weeks. “How scarce is water here?” I ask. A voice speaks from the crowd “Why ask? Just count the number of bachelors.” I am puzzled. What is the relationship between water scarcity and the number of bachelors? Another voice unravels the mystery. “No father or brother wants to marry off his daughter or sister in this village as she would then have to spend all day fetching water for her new family.” I’m rendered speechless.
