It was 15 minutes into the rainy season and everybody was in a bad mood at the ghat near Nagpura, a village in the heart of Uttar Pradesh. A small crowd had gathered at the confluence of the Yamuna and the Ganga Rivers. The fire-spitting sun beat down on them from a cloudless sky. Birds chirped as their nests were gently shaken by the wind. The river, although swollen, was unusually calm. Flocks of kites, parakeets, fish eagles and buzzards were soaring through the air above the riverbank, occasionally swooping down to pick up an unsuspecting fish.
On the other side of the ghat, on a narrow strip of land, on the other side of the road, lay a collection of wooden houses that were scattered haphazardly on either side of the river, unkempt grasses covering most of their narrow verandas. A small lane ran through the narrow gap between the houses. A couple of restaurants with colourful signage and a few shops selling food, cloth and plastic goods stood in a row.
When the queue at the ghat started moving, it was a narrow one, and then, just as suddenly, it spread out like a fan and encircled all the people. People with bamboo baskets, metal bowls, coconut shells and paper bags full of red lentils, steaming curry leaves, mustard seeds and spices lined up. Slowly, impatiently, they inched forward. One by one, they reached the confluence and touched the muddy waters with their cupped hands. A few water buffalo, sleepy-eyed and red-eyed, came closer.
Anjum, a sarpanch's son, was waiting for his turn. The queue moved a little further back. He had been waiting here since the early morning and was probably starting to get a little hungry by now. From a distance, he saw his mother and his younger brothers sitting in a corner of the ghat. His father, Mulchand, was talking with someone on the other side. “What do we do when there is no water? What do we do?” Anjum whispered to his brother.
It was a Tuesday. Anjum was 15 years old and was studying in ninth grade. At that age, he was beginning to make new friends and start to explore the world beyond his village. He had recently bought an new pair of chappals for his mother and
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