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MOKSA The drought has been spreading for generations. It has now covered all of India.

INDIO If it wasn't for all those tax collectors.

MOKSA Our throats are parched. We are all learning to eat the brown grass.

INDIO It has to get better, father.

MOKSA Your mother must now go far away every morning and come back with drops of water every night from the distant well. Dry, brown water.

INDIO If Pretoria hadn't left her baby we'd still have enough.

MOKSA What remained of our water I have given to those who ran out sooner.

INDIO I thought you'd never let mother work in that factory.

MOKSA The children, she said. The children. They have not yet chosen your purity.

INDIO That's it, isn't it? Pretoria's child. If it wasn't for her, mother wouldn't have had to go!

MOKSA Where do our obligations lie, Indio? Can we feed only the children of others, and starve our own?