When boundaries were caste aside

It was the month of December. The regiment was out for a winter wargame and exercise. One morning, I was out for ‘shikaar’ in the dunes around Sheo in Barmer. The cool Thar desert undulated all around and the Mahindra jeep snaked over the sand.

Sowar Thomas, the driver, stopped the jeep and jumped out saying that the vehicle had overheated. He went and pulled up the bonnet hood. The jeep’s engine was smelling of a heat-up. Thomas untied the canvas water bag from the bumper and poured water into the radiator. I tried starting the engine, but it refused to cough up. We used up all the water but the jeep would not start. I scanned the sandy horizon and saw a few huts about half a kilometre away.

“Take the bag and get some water from those huts,” I told Thomas. He returned after 20 minutes and said that the occupants refused to give him water. I found it very strange that a soldier wearing an Army uniform was refused water. I was a Captain wearing a three-starred cloth epaulette and felt that I would be able to draw out the water from them.

I said to Thomas, “Come along, I will show you how to get water.” We left the jeep and trotted off into the dunes. The huts were thatched and conical-shaped. A 6-foot-tall Rajasthani with a pointy moustache stepped out when I shouted, “Koi hai?”

He stood and looked at me. I said, “You refused to give water to my man.”

“Yes I did.”

“Do you have any water?”

“Yes we do.”

“Do you want me to pay for it?” I said, taking out my wallet.

“I don’t need any money,” he said.

“Then can you fill this up for me?” I said, extending him the canvas water bag. He jumped backwards as if I was trying to touch him with a live electric wire.

“I am not giving you a live cobra, it’s just a canvas water bottle,” I said, puzzled by the man’s behaviour.

“Sahib, we don’t give water to anybody,” he explained. I was even more puzzled now.

“Look brother, our jeep has heated up and we have to pour water in its radiator to start it up. Our camp is 10 miles away.”

The man said, “Oh, you need water for the jeep, then take it. My wife gets water from a well very far off.” He shouted and a veiled woman, jingling of silver amulets and anklets, took the bag and came back and gave it to the man. He handed me the filled bag.

I found his behaviour strange. I asked him why he had no problem in giving water for the jeep, but refused it earlier.

“I belong to a Scheduled Caste and nobody can drink our water. You will get polluted, that’s why I refused you water.”

I was carrying my packed breakfast in a haversack. I told him to get his morning meal. He came out with a bajra-roti, a green chilli, a small onion and lehsun chutney.

“You eat my food, I will eat yours. We don’t have any castes in the Indian Army.”

The tall man found it incredulous until he ate the omelette and toast and I ate his bajra roti.