Aditya had an idea. He climbed onto the roof and dismantled an old rainwater pipe, angling it upward to collect the downpour. As the pipe began to trickle with fresh rainwater, he felt a small surge of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was something. They could drink this, at least for now.
But the storm showed no signs of letting up. The rain pounded relentlessly, and Aditya’s grandfather began to deteriorate. His fever worsened, and he spent most of his time either shivering under the thin blankets they had salvaged or mumbling to himself.