Now the village bore has run dry. The village bore had water, and people were able to collect water for house needs at the street taps. Now people have to run to whichever distant field is being watered to bring home pots of water. Those who have cows also to provide for should ... die.
Eashwaramma, living on pain killer injections and tablets, debilitated by a lifetime of malnutrition, and then a crippling attack of chikungunya, sole supporter of her two grandchildren, her sole asset being her cow ... will now die. She will have to carry water from far away fields for her family and the cow. There is just so much mind and body can take.
The village is dry, drier and driest. Bores are rapidly drying up. As Konepalle Avva says, "If we keep sinking bores, and empty the Paatala Ganga, what else will happen".
Varalu was equally vibrant, "I am well. My children are well. The village children are saying that their appetite has improved, and their leg pains have decreased", referring to the milk with ashwagandhadhi that shes to the children daily.
Every encounter with the landless poor of this village currently under severe drought, and with the worst off among them, Eashwaramma and Varalu and Kala, - only leaves me recharged. And with a sense of 'All will be well'.
Though they are running out of rice, and there is no employment on the horizon, they are able to give spontaneously to every mendicant calling 'Bhavati bhiksham dehi'.