Thirst: Chapters 28–45

Even Anita Ma’am had her maid Lata hoard water in the tubs in case they run out later in the day.

The municipality has asked all residents to conserve water.

I nodded, overwhelmed by her kindness.

Apparently there’s a water tap down the lane that seems to mysteriously have water.

They’re like vultures, and I’m the carcass.

Mercifully, I am able to fill my two buckets fast.

She tilts her head sweetly when she talks, even if a minute later her shoulders sag in fatigue. She is full of fake happy energy.

“It’s terrible. He was found in a gutter near the creek,” Aisha says.

Ram Uncle says, “Did you know that Ravi never drank alcohol? He was a teetotaler.”

“Oh, that’s not full-time—it’s just for some extra cash,” I say casually, and I’m proud of myself.

It feels good to hear pages rustle and see Faiza bent over her notebook across the aisle.

She said he would thank her with tips, which she promptly added to her savings jar.

“What are you looking at? Do I know you?”
I manage to shake my head. “No, sahib.”

Pinky’s father is not as dumb as the old lion; in fact, he is cunning.

I don’t think there’s an app that can salvage Ma’s job, bring my brother back, and catch a criminal.

Someone says that we should make an app to send our pictures of local garbage heaps to the Municipal Corporation so that we badger them enough that they finally do something about it.

I nod vigorously.

The stern expression on her face makes me want to sink through the floor.

The TV blares in the background as I clean the living room.

I wring the cloth mop again and again, as if I could wring the truth from it.

All the mopping and scrubbing have hardened my skin and given me calluses.

When we arrive at Baba’s stall, I see a bunch of policemen in their khaki uniforms.

It’s a simple meal, daal and rice. Nothing like the elaborate meals with meats and several vegetables I serve at Pinky’s house.

He’s the new police chief that the policemen in my father’s shop were talking about. The one who is shaking things up and has a reputation for being able to stand up to the corrupt gangs.

There’s shock that someone so rich and powerful could be caught. Many people are jubilant that the police are working for the people and catching real criminals.

“Sorry I’m rambling on, Sanjay. Tell me how you are.”

Seeing my disappointed face, Priya Didi says, “Minni, all good ideas come with problems. That’s part of the challenge. Your idea is solid. But you have to keep working on all the angles. These are glitches that all our apps will face.”

Priya Didi explains more about what the job entails, and when I keep nodding, she grins.

I discover that although I might not know every single answer, like I used to when my only responsibilities were to study, tease Sanjay, and run my mouth, I’m positive I know enough to pass—thanks to the people who’ve helped me, and my own stubborn self.

Our braids fly, and wisps of hair and the wind tickle our faces as we hug and scream in joy.