I arrived in Karachi at such a time, to spend a few months with my grandmother. I could sense the heaviness and sadness of the parched city even before I heard the litany of woe from everyone I met. But it was as I stood in my grandmother's once verdant, lush garden that I realized how bad the situation was. I was shocked to see the bare, skeletal mango and papaya trees drooping in the heat of the noonday sun. In place of the thick grass was white, hard rubble and stones, with a few tufts of green hesitantly peeking out.

This was all the more shocking because I had just passed other houses in the same neighborhood, behind whose high walls I could just glimpse the graceful silhouettes of palm trees and the bright reds and yellows of delicate hibiscus flowers. I was later told that this was because some people had circumvented the rules via the infamous "suction pumps." These efficient little machines literally siphoned off whatever little water did pass through the main water lines. But my grandmother, whose sprawling house was in fact strategically located right next to her street's water main, refused to engage in such devious practices. "This is a matter of principle," she stubbornly insisted, "As long as we have enough water for the household, that is enough."

That meant that in order to restore (a small part) of my grandmother's considerably large garden to a fraction of its former glory, and supplement her minuscule water supply from the local authority, I would have to resort to Plan B: The water tanker. The sight of ancient, garishly decorated trucks transporting water all across the city was a common one. With the drought at its peak, their sparse commodity was available to the highest bidder. Prices had quadrupled and were continuing to rise amongst often fierce bidding at designated areas where they congregated. The key was to get there early in the morning, otherwise hours could be spent wandering the streets for an errant water truck, or one could be hijacked by upping a previously offered price.

I realized over the weeks, as my grandmother's garden began to slowly gain a verdant shadow, that my troubles were minuscule compared to what the population in poor, rural areas was facing in its third consecutive year of severe drought. The provinces of Balochistan, Sindh and Punjab, which depend heavily on agricultural and livestock production, were the hardest hit. In 2000, the monsoon season's rainfall was 40 percent below normal, leading to farmers facing financial ruin. With the lack of water and animal feed, livestock numbers had also been decimated by up to 60 percent of their 1999 levels. The livestock sector plays a key role in the nation's economy, being the main source for household income for many. Animals also crucially provide food security through meat and milk, particularly in areas with limited access to alternative food sources.

The monsoon season in 2001 has delivered near normal rainfall, and prayers of thanks have been resounding throughout the country. However, easing the effects of the prolonged drought condition and replenishing ground-water levels will still require several more such seasons. The faithful continue to pray for God's grace.