In the deserts, Life is tough. The arid landscape Seems to lie in wait For centuries; Famished, Parched, Bereft, Desperate For nourishment. In absence of water, It elicits tears And sweat, Drawing out the tiniest fraction of moisture From every human breath. She had survived; Those little girl years lived In the vicinity of the great desert. Travelling miles with her mother In the heat and dust To obtain water. Learnt lessons given to her About conserving every drop Of water, Of not succumbing to wasteful excesses Of daily ablutions. Of water; for which even to be prepared To shed blood. The survival through the years of her childhood Had ingrained in her to celebrate water. Everytime she reached the Park square, Where the fountains erupted every evening; Dancing in synchronous bursts to the accompaniment of music, She danced. Enraptured by the joys of her memories of childhood- of scarce sudden rain, of the first well dug in her village and how the water had gushed out that day. The celebrations that had followed, liberation from the domination of the rich landlord who owned the water reservoir. Her dance under the fountain, is perhaps An obeisance To the elixir of life-water!