Pleasure in Small Measure

I live in the residential quarters of IISc., Bangalore. Home is a ground floor apartment in a three storey building, with a small garden space, in front and back. For four to five years now, the overhead water tank has been overflowing into my backyard. Routinely, around 5pm every evening, water gushes out from terrace plumbing, flooding my garden, backyard, completely, waterlogging, stagnating, breeding mosquitoes. A variety of complaints have been made, letters written, problem reported over these last several years. Still, we await Peter to usually ride out here on his rickety cycle, unlock the door to the machine room, and turn off the motor-then after all the accumulated water on the terrace has emptied out, the flow stops, till the next day.

Now, I have watched, fretted, fumed, cursed, barked, yelled, screamed at this horrible wastage, till I have turned hoarse, sullen, silent, accepting, and then quietly watching this daily drama. Over years, a new wet land ecology has slowly evolved in my yard. Irises have taken over and bloom in my marshes, anthuriums thrive, cardamom long thought dead have revived on their own and now liberally sprinkles my back yard- a pepper vine is ready for harvest.

Two days back, I had a thought - don't know why I didn't think this thought before....I decided to dig a canal system to channel water to the entire garden from this overflow. For two days I labored with digging till the back is stiff, arms are sore, and palms calloused with working big tools on hard ground. Now a circuitous canal meanders between my plants, halfway till the end
(I am taking a break today!) and yesterday evening I saw water filling and rushing past in blue curvy lines through my yard. I sat at the window, coffee in my hand, watching this in satisfaction, and pleasure, in small measure.