The Waterman and the Water Gods
Nainital, India
2023, Senior, Creative Writing
Climate Hero: Rajendra Singh, Tarun Bharat Sangh
The turn of monsoon is nigh.
Ravi stared at the lake that had started to take shape near his house. It was wide and already as long as six of their “gully cricket patches.” It was deep, too; he had seen the Sami boys dive in it the other day. And it was so blue – bluer than the sky, bluer than the water he otherwise drank. But most importantly, he had dug it last winter. Well, not alone obviously! But his tiny hands had helped.
It had all started last autumn when a young Ayurvedic doctor in tattered cloths came to his village leader with a strange proposal. Ravi had overheard the conversation when the doctor came to his home to persuade his father, the village treasurer. The doctor wanted his father to convey his requests to those in his circle; Ravi had heard the words “enough water for all” and scoffed in disbelief. Water, and in his village? Impossible. His village was famous for its water curse. His mother walked each day for over six hours just to get enough for the household. Ridiculous.
The men of his village shared his distaste for the doctor’s magical water mission. But the women? They wanted to hear his ideas. He had heard his mother say, “When there’s enough water, we all feel happy. We feel like we have conquered even the mightiest of challenges. Give the doctor a chance to speak. If his plans work, I will not have to walk in the scorching desert sun. Think of my blistered soles!”
Girls in his school called him the waterman. They would often surround him and bombard him with questions. Can you bring water to our village? Do you know the water gods? Is it true that in ancient times there was a huge lake in our village? Why did it dry out? How did we build it in the first place? The waterman would answer as many as he could. Sometimes he did not have all the answers. But he was kind and compassionate.
Perhaps it was this compassion and perseverance that compelled his father to help him seek an audience with the village leader. They met after two whole months of deliberations, and the waterman told the village council and people about his plans to rebuild the Johad, or check dam, that had existed in the village in ancient times. He wanted to conserve the old stone walls and reinforce the structures still standing. Based on his calculations, the resulting water body formed by the enclosure would hold enough rainwater for every house, with some to spare.
The waterman’s presentation was welcomed with a thunder of bangle-clad hands. The village washerwoman who had lost a daughter to heatstroke broke down in tears. Ravi was still skeptical, but if the lake meant a cool retreat after school, he was all in! During his lunch break the next day, he followed the group of girls that surrounded the doctor to ask a few questions of his own.
“Er, Mr. Doctor?” Ravi fumbled.
“You can call me Dr. Singh. Rajendra Singh.”
“Dr. Singh, when will you make the lake? Will it be your lake? Can I swim in it?”
At this, Rajendra smiled. “You will make the lake, child. It will be your lake, the village’s lake. I have supervised the construction of over 11,000 water bodies. Each one built by the people, for the people. I do not own even a tiny pond.”
“Then why do you do this work?” Ravi could not stop himself even as the girls stared at him.
“Nothing flourishes without water. Everything becomes lifeless, and life becomes meaningless. The water god blesses us each monsoon with rain. All I do is conserve some of his gifts for the people. All I do is revive the ancestral knowledge of our people who have been living in these lands for thousands of years against all odds. Building Johads and water bodies gives me joy. So it isn’t like work at all! It is therapeutic.”
The girls nodded vigorously. The oldest proclaimed, “The waterman is right! The waterman is right! I have heard we had large lakes here that dried out when the walls of the check dams fell. Our people lost the knowledge of our forefathers, but you – you are our saviour! Now we can play like the boys.”
Work on the Johad began in winter. Ravi would often accompany his mother and the other women who led the construction of the new walls. Sometimes he would tail the waterman himself when he went around collecting donations. Other times, he would lift as much dirt as he could and dump it all near the old walls. Most of his “help” increased the work for the women, but they couldn’t bring themselves to say no. So, help he did, and by spring most of the new walls had been constructed and all old walls had been repaired and reinforced.
On the auspicious day of Basant Panchami (the fifth day of spring in the Hindu tradition), Rajendra inaugurated a temple to the local water god near the soon-to-be lake. Now all they had to do was wait. Wait for the rain to fall. For the water god to accept their prayers. And shower them with hope.
* * *
Throughout the monsoon, the lake grew in size. Women had more time to spare, and many took up other jobs in their community. Girls could attend school regularly and complete their homework and play! Barren lands became farms, and the percolated water improved their water table. Young people who had left the village in search of work began to return and start small businesses. It was as if the water god had written to the goddess of wealth! Most importantly, Ravi learned to swim with the Sami boys!
There were more birds and fish. Even his school got a makeover when government investments in his village increased. He had better benches and new books. His favourite book? The Waterman of India. Dr Rajendra Singh. The magic man who changed the destiny of his village and countless other villages! The messenger of the water gods who manifested and aligned the aspirations of so many communities.
Ravi recalled his mother’s words: “When there’s enough water, we all feel happy. We feel like we have conquered even the mightiest of challenges.”
Maybe the climate crisis is not as bleak after all. Maybe we have compassionate leaders amongst us who have the skill and devotion to empower communities. Maybe, just maybe, the water gods are listening. There’s only one way to find out. Act. Now.
Reflection
Reflection
I learned about Rajendra Singh while researching the barriers that climate activists face in their work. I was shocked to discover that he was attacked 15-20 times while advocating for bans on mining in the sensitive Aravalli hills system of India. One such attack resulted in a 20-day coma, and yet fear could not touch his heart! I knew I had to write about this wonderful climate hero. This fictional story set in a village in Rajasthan explores the water conservation work of Dr. Singh through the perspective of a young boy. It takes inspiration from real stories of change that Singh’s work brought to the life in vulnerable villagers and especially among women. Furthermore, I have included themes of rural faith-based environmentalism, such as worshipping nature and elements (the Water Gods). I have written it using child-friendly words and dialogues to make it accessible to younger children. I hope this is a fun read and introduces the reader to the inspiring, unflinching Waterman of India!