Some water, please!
The security man in our building stops me as I was going to the office. Usually, he doesn't do that unless there's a problem. Assessing my past experience, I start counting from ten to one to let a rising tension go off.
Counting doesn't help.
He says with his right hand ascending near his forehead: “Salaam sir; there's no water supply in the pipeline for the last two days.”
I knew this was not a piece of good news; he never stops me for good news.
“What, then, are we using at this moment,” I ask him, not letting him understand my nervousness.
He says: “We've been using what we had in the reserved tank.
I wryly smiled at him, expressing my helplessness as I realize that the albatross named “ Wasa [Water Supply Authority]” is about to jump on my soldiers and play some havoc.
The inevitable happens; the reservoir dries out with no hope to get any water from the authorities that are “supposed” to help us during the rainy season [mind you! You'll be penalized if you don't pay your taxes].
When the reservoir dries out, we lodge an order for two tanks of water which would cost Tk 800 . The first Wasa truck comes next day and fills out the tank a little. But the Wasa people leave with a promise to come back with another truck full of water at midnight.
The inevitable obviously happens. No-one turns up.
In the meantime, just before water flow at our locality stopped, a few officials of the buildings at Gulshan's Road 29 caught a Wasa official red handed. The Wasa official was turning the tap off from a point close to our residence. We asked him as to who told him to stop water supply to out neighbourhood, he mentioned that a high official did.
On the third day, when we didn't have any water to wet our toothbrushes, finding no other way to “achieve” any water, I call up my journalist friend at Baishakhi TV, hoping that he'd be able to help me by talking to Dhaka Wasa Chairman. He instantly acted. Wasa arranged the second truck and we got some water to use for a few hours.
The same situation happens at our neighbourhood at least three times a year. We stop cooking, bathing, and drinking water at our residences. We roam around our relatives' houses to get shower, if not to eat. I usually get my shower either at the office or at the cadet college club.
The water-wallahs do this when there's little rain or the weather heats up.
On the fifth day, today, 10 August, I discover I don't have any water to brush my teeth, not to talk about other purposes. I search our house and find one jar of water in the kitchen kept for cooking .
What would I do and think at this moment? Should I still think that Bangladesh has a future?
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