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It was a very hot day - the third day of the Bengali new year. The water festivals just ended and the bullfighting and horse racing had begun.

I travelled to Mymensingh in the early hours of the day and reached there in time. Just after a few hours at the fighting arena, my water supply ran out and I was drenched in sweat and my head hurt. I went around searching for a open tap or any source of water.

And there it was, crowded by men, women and children. Drinking, washing and filling up their bottles of water. No manufactured cold drinks or those highly advertised energy drinks comes close to the tasteless, colorless, taken-for-granted liquid that we call Water.

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