We all need water, obviously.
Lucie has a regular stop in a ‘paddling pool’ at a neighbours house. Jains in particular will leave out water and food for cows, birds and dogs.
One of our big problems locally is there just isn’t enough water for drinking or agriculture, let alone industry. So you’d think we’d be a tad more careful with it? Nah….. The re is a massive dispute with the neighbouring state. The Kaveri river passes through Karnataka (our state) before reaching Tamil Nadu, there’s insufficient water so do we find a way to share the problem? Nah, we’re first in the queue so we take what we want. This is a worldwide problem, look anywhere: California, Australia, wherever, same problem.
What is is about us? We know the problems, we know we need to act but do we, not in any significant or meaningful way. As highlighted in this insightful book our empires collapse for many different reasons but almost always because we do t recognise what’s at the end of our collective noses and do something about it.
Water is of course a massive problem around the world.
Same here in Mysore.
Close to where we live new borewells are being drilled because that house needs it, of course. Let’s look after our own.
So who cares?
Sand Karma, from cradle to grave to be born again. The long tentacles of the mafia imprisons the sand by dredging the lakes and rivers, looting the embankments, stealing sand wherever it can, and bribing where it needs to… Dotted around our countryside we see in our rivers, small round boats like metal coracles or Bella (Jaggery) cauldrons or gangs attacking the river banks. These are the starting point for the convoys of bullock carts filled with the precious cargo.
After a sometimes long and arduous journey from river bed or bank, to cart, to truck, to city distribution point (to become official) and then on again (its a wonder there’s no sand travel sickness or maybe there is) to be dumped, unceremoniously outside the mushrooming building sites, found throughout the city. Only then to be reincarnated, as a grey mix, for the greater good of the ‘development’ (some might say ruin) of our great heritage city.
But this isn’t a sad tail of the demise of sand, the loss of its identity or of its sacrifice to the greater good…..no way.
One or two of our sand grain friends, reunited with water (their very own vehicle) from the previous nights torrential rainfall, seize the opportunity and escape form the constructors piles and become part of a great escape.
This morning the roads are covered with a layer of sand, in time, some might be scraped into little piles and recaptured but some will have managed to reach the storm drains, and on to a new life..
So next when you notice sand on the road and maybe you feel a bit irritated by the sand on your shoe. Spare a thought for the hard life of sand. Remember the triumphs and tribulations of the grain of sand and its great escape in its long march to the sea.