A Bowl of Water for Summer

That summer, the sun forgot to take breaks.

It blazed in the morning. It blazed at lunchtime. It blazed so hard in the afternoon that the road went wobbly to look at, and everyone stayed inside under their fans.

Anya was watching from the window when she saw the sparrow.

It was sitting on the balcony railing with its beak open, its little sides going in and out, in and out, very fast.

“Mama, what’s wrong with that sparrow?”

Mama looked. “She’s too hot, and she’s thirsty. The puddles are all dried up. It’s a hard month to be a bird.”

Anya thought about being thirsty with no tap, no bottle, no fridge, nowhere at all to ask.

Then she went to the kitchen and found the old terracotta bowl.

She filled it right to the top — carrying it slowly, slowly, tongue between her teeth, only spilling a little — and set it on the balcony ledge. Then she hid behind the curtain to watch.

For a long time, nothing.

Then: a flutter. The sparrow landed on the rim, looked left, looked right — and drank. Tiny sips, with her head tipping up after each one, as if she were saying something to the sky.

Then she did something even better. She hopped right in and splashed — a proper bath, wings flicking silver drops everywhere — and flew off looking like a completely new sparrow.

“MAMA! IT WORKED!”

The next day, the sparrow came back. And she must have told somebody, because a second sparrow came too.

The day after that, a squirrel came down the drainpipe and sat waiting by the bowl for his turn, holding his little hands together like a polite customer.

Then three more sparrows. Then a big glossy crow who drank like a gentleman and left. Then a butterfly, who didn’t drink at all, but liked to sit on the wet rim where it was cool.

Anya refilled the bowl every morning before breakfast, all summer long. It became her job, the way feeding the fish was Papa’s job. Nobody had asked her to do it. That was her favourite part — it was hers.

And when the first monsoon rain finally came, and the whole street ran outside to feel it, Anya cheered with everyone — then peeked back at her balcony.

The sparrow was there in the rain, hopping around the old bowl.

Just visiting, this time.