It was the worst summer Pal ghat had ever seen. The days were spent like being cooked inside an oven. The dripping sweat when combined with the dust and dirt creates a thin layer of sticky muck which makes me feel intolerably icky. Altogether I hated the summers when, all our water bottles are always out of water and there wasn’t a single soul in the class who possessed a single drop of water, our elixir of life. And if there does exists such an amount of water, that would be licked dry by all the thirsty predators and the possessor wouldn’t even stand a chance to see his water sucked out of his own bottle. Such drought stricken was our summer days.

One such day, when the heat generally heats my head, making me cranky and irritable, he waltzed to me and joked about something, which I really don’t remember. I actually am the fight picker of the two of us and usually don’t remember half my silly reasons. I am not sadistic but I do love the fact and the way he always comes back to me and tries so hard to brighten me, which he always succeeds. As were the case, I got mad about the joke and stopped talking to him, which usually is my reaction when I am angry.

So I go the entire day without speaking to him and he doesn’t even bother to talk to me. Even more angered, I start ignoring him. Eventually at the end of the day, all our friends and us gathered at our usual spot to have the usual last minute chat before heading to our respective homes. By then I was so thirsty and felt my throat would crack up if I didn’t find a little water soon. I asked everyone around, but there was not a drop to be found. Hot and tired, I climbed onto my bus and prayed that it would take me home soon, so that I could wet my throat before I would die.

Just before the engine was revved up by the driver, a friend of mine came running to me with a bottle of water. Before I could thank him, my bus sped off. All through the way I thought of him, on how he took the trouble of getting me water and that he was such a nice friend for bringing it to me instead of having it for himself.

As I reached home and spent rest of the day going about the usual routine, I forgot about the water incident. In the late evening as he ringed me up to ensure my angry mode had been turned off,(which it had, as usual),and sensing that it was the correct time, he asked me whether I got the water which he sent through that friend. Only then, things fell into place. He sent that bottle through a friend just because he knew I wouldn’t take it from him because of our spat and that nobody but him would notice my troubles or would bother to bring me relief.

It was just a bottle of water for everyone, but for me it’s his effort to put my troubles at rest, his way of taking care of me.