Having heard the bus driver babble that Junagadh was round the corner seemed like my ordeal was coming to an end as the desired rendezvous with Asiatic lions had begun to transport me to twin thoughts of whether I should have undertaken this assignment (the 40-hr journey split in three different bus rides and a sole train ride). But that euphoria couldn%u2019t last long as the person sitting next to me told that Gir Sasan was a good 60 kms down the road. And when that part of journey began I couldn%u2019t prevent myself from getting immersed in thoughts bordering between hope and despair (obviously loaded with assumptions). As the bus made its way through chaotic points of the city, the initiation of conversation was a natural outcome (some preferred to join the chorus and some preferred to stay aloof) and it turned to one issue not trivial by any yardstick: water. The way the co-passenger initiated the discussion it seemed as if he was waiting for this opportunity for ages. He told me with disarming frankness that some areas of Junagadh receive water once in three days (the best part is, as he would say, the people aren%u2019t complaining either) vis-a -vis metros which has had a much better luck and yet the efforts to ensure its judicious use is minimal. Junagadh and its outskirts spring back to life (mornings begin here early) %u2013 with amazing pace. On the way to Gir Sasan, as the railway line criss-crossed my path on innumerable points (difficult to tell whether it indicates the stro
