I like my water at room temperature so this pitcher lives on my kitchen counter.

I pour this water into bottles and take it with me wherever I go—to the gym, to school, to church, to work.

I love the taste and even the feel of this water as I drink it. I think there is no pleasure in life quite as sweet as a long, cool drink of this water, especially first thing in the morning when I’m sure I can feel it refreshing every parched cell in my body.

OK, I may be a little obsessive about my water, but this column isn’t actually about water. This column is about a lack of water and the perspective that this lack has brought me.

As many are no doubt aware, there is a terrible water shortage in India. A few months ago I happened to see a news story about this on PBS. In this story I learned that, in at least one city in India, there is no water at all.

Let me repeat that: There is a city with no water at all.

Every single day the government sends tanker trucks full of water into this city.

The residents bring hoses to siphon the water out because the trucks do not have spigots or any other way to dispense the water, and they bring containers to carry their allotment of water home.

In the news story, a large crowd swarmed a water truck—even before it came to a stop—climbing the sides to reach the openings on top. Some people were standing on others’ shoulders, some jumped or climbed up any way they could.

The reporter mentioned that people are sometimes trampled in the frenzied crowds that surround these trucks.

This news story touched me like nothing else I’ve encountered. I find myself reflecting on the images again and again. My heart was moved by the plight of these people and by the effort they must make to meet such a basic need. In the relative luxury in which I live, and obsessed as I am with water, it’s difficult to imagine what life is like for them.

While my heart is filled with compassion for the people, my mind has developed a test—a water test—that I use to compare situations in my life against the reality that the people in India face every day.

For example, a few weeks ago when my neighbors left me a not-so-neighborly note about my overgrown lawn, I was angry and, frankly, embarrassed.

I felt justified in my anger because I knew that the only reason the grass was too long was because my mower was broken beyond repair and I had to save up for several weeks before I could buy a new one.

After a day or two I applied the water test to the situation and realized three things.

First, my neighbors are entitled to their opinion. Second, my grass really is pretty long, and third, I’m fortunate to have a yard and grass, overgrown or otherwise.

I’ve found myself repeating the phrase, “water in India” when I encounter a problem.

It’s become something of a mantra that brings me back to reality, or at least gets me to take a second look at a situation.

This water story has helped me realize that most things I think of as problems are nothing more than inconveniences.

I’m not perfect at it.

I still get upset over what are probably insignificant issues, but I am changing.

Sometimes it takes me a few hours or even a few days to apply the water test but once I do, my perspective about the situation improves.

As I take a long, cool drink of my steam distilled, charcoal filtered water, I hope that I’ve learned this lesson. I hope it’s changed me for the better and for good.

I hope that I continue to use the water test to measure the importance of circumstances I encounter.

I hope I use this test for the rest of my life and that it continues to engender compassion and understanding within me.

I hope that the people in India can be relieved of the dire circumstances in which they find themselves, and I hope I find a way to play some small part in that relief.

Most of all, I hope everyone will encounter a water story at some time in their lives so they may experience the perspective that it can bring—a perspective that opens the heart and mind and allows for the release of the insignificant—a perspective that’s as sweet and refreshing as a long cool drink.

By DARIENNE ARCURI
Editor
darcuri@ius.edu