Our taps run dry

Image by Ave Calvar on Unsplash

Washing my hands in the broken washbasin, I looked around with satisfaction. The garden looked fresh and beautiful after this evening watering. The setting sun added its golden glow to the garden. The limes which were ripe looked tempting in the orange rays of the sun.

I closed my eyes wanting to savor the moment in my mind, I had saved this garden yet another time, how long will I succeed in these attempts, I wondered. My heart grew heavy with pain. What have we done to the very hands that feeds us, I wondered - this Earth has become dry.

Standing with my back to the wall I let my eyes feast on the plants in front of me. Each one had been collected with love through much searching, tended to with diligent care and these were now starting to bear fruit. Will I let abandon them? The very thought brought tears to my eyes.

Water has been scarce in these parts for a couple of years, however, the copious rains of the last year made me forget about the water scarcity. This year was a different story altogether. The much expected summer thunderstorms never came even though the sky rumbled like a giant every now and then. Then the monsoon rain failed and our huge community bore-wells went dried, so did our taps. The water we bought at a heavy price through tankers was just enough for our daily needs. It's not as if we couldn't buy more, but the tankers that brought water were selling it to high volume customers, like restaurants and huge apartment complexes, individual bunglows like ours were hit badly. We couldn't buy water even if we were willing to pay. This time I was lucky, the tanker guy spoke my regional language and somehow manged to speak my way through the problem. However, this was a rare event.

Many a night went by sleeplessly as I worried about what would become of my garden. Each time I washed my hands in the washbasin or washed vegetables or legumes I collected the water and carried it two floors up to water my plants. I even considered giving my plants away, but there were no takers, at least not the ones who would take good care of them.

The seven year old sapodilla tree beside which I stood now has yielded me in the last five years has been so numerous sweet fruits. Squirrels have had a bigger share of the fruits than I've had, but that was okay. Those little buggers needed some food too, I was willing to share my harvests with them. I wondered what will happen to the squirrels if we stopped growing food in our gardens, where will they go for food in this city?

Oh the beautiful sun-birds, what will become of them? Tears flooded my eyes as I remembered how I woke up to the sweet sound of their songs each morning. If no one grew flowers where will they get their nectar from, would they fly away to another place, will I ever see them again? The pain in my heart only grew as these thoughts filled my mind.

Hearing footsteps I quickly composed myself and pretended to be busy with the ixora plant near me. I didn't want my husband to see me cry, that would worry him to no end. Later that day lying on my bed I realized I hadn't really understood the importance of water as I did at this moment. I thought of the farmers in my country who depended on rain for their crops, my heart became heavy as lead.

Our greed to have bigger homes has made this city once known as 'the garden city' into a concrete jungle. Parks have given way to huge buildings. Temperatures have risen making this once cool city into a living hell. This land once blessed with copious rains now experiences seasons of drought.

Worriedly I tossed and turned in bed that night wondering how I would water my garden the next day. I remembered my dad always quoting this verse from the scriptures, 'Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough troubles of its own' Matt 6:34 NIV Comforted, I slept peacefully. I understood why I have never been a worrier. I had taken an important page out of my dad's book and made it my own.

The next day when I noticed my plants wilting under the sun, I also heard the rumblings in the sky. Huge black clouds had gathered, I brought all the buckets and containers I could find in my home and felt them in the garden. It rained that night!

This is my submission for the #creativegarden challenge.
Join in here and write your creative piece for this challenge if you haven't done so already.