THE MAGIC OF THE JALDOOT

The drought had taken its toll. There was hardly any water left in the river and the muddy banks stared at them starkly as the sun rays beat unflinchingly on the golden sands of the river bed. Ganu shielded his eyes from the punishing heat.

"Was it going to be a repeat of last year?" he wondered. Since the past two years, rains had been so scanty that the entire region of Latur was facing a drought like situation.

Priyal came towards him shading her head with her pallu. She had a small katori of food covered with a banana leaf in her hand. The young couple shared the food and went back to work in the field. The corn crop was ready for harvest. They used to grow sugarcane too, but somehow the minuscule rain had played havoc on their plans.

"Let us go to the station," exclaimed Priyal. "The jaldoot will arrive in an hour's time."

Ganu nodded and they both set off excitedly to meet the water train. This had become a daily ritual in the village in recent times. Everyone would rush to the station to the welcome sight of the train carrying their precious water in freshly painted clover green wagons. Now they had enough water for their daily needs, even though they had to use it sparingly.

But it had not always been like this. Ganu could feel the heat rising up within him in anger as he remembered the way his mother had suffered when his farmer father had committed suicide. His father had taken loans from the local money lender who was a crook. When natural calamity in the form of continual drought hit the village, Ganu's father had been badly affected. He had not been able to repay the loans and the inte

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rest too kept mounting. Then one day, when he could not bear it anymore, he committed suicide by hanging himself from one of the trees in his own field.

He had not been the only one. There were six more old farmers who embraced death by suicide. This had led to a great hue and cry.

Ganu had been just sixteen years old at that time. The emotional upheaval had been unbearable for the young boy. His mother was devastated, solitary and without any support. But she took up the reins of life in her hands, got employed in other jobs including domestic labor, to allow him to complete his basic education. Then Priyal had come into his life. It had been an arranged marriage. Her joyful demeanor and respectful attitude towards his mother had drawn him towards her, and they were really happy in their simple life. Priyal made him go back to the fields and together they had tried their best to grow a crop that would give yields even in drought like conditions.

Then last year, happiness revisited their village in the form of jaldoot. Ganu could still feel the excitement when it had arrived at Latur for the first time. Their problems had diminished as if by waving a magic wand. A string of bore-wells dug in the village for ground water were parched and dry. But they came in useful now to store water for the village. Pipes were being laid to bring the water to their farms. The entire village was now so much more happy. The brown fields turned a beautiful green. But the river remained dry as there still was no sign of rain. But the magic of the jaldoot had made Ganu and Priyal and many more like them unaffected by the monsoon deficit.