The martyr's memorial erected by the district authorities -- a handpump installed in front of Lahane's shanty soon after his immolation -- only mocks at the 3,000 villagers, as its erratic trickle fills but a few hundies even on its best days. But neither the district authorities nor the state government cares, never mind the latter's promise to provide water to all by 2000.

Though the Gram Panchayat has cleansed its conscience, Lahane's self-immolation, in front of the Zilla Parishad (ZP) premises on October 5, was in effect just another bonfire on a cold winter day. His widow, Gumfabai, told The Indian Express: ``I had told him he could never win. Why would the police or any other government officials bother with us? Wecan't afford to bribe them for water connections. My husband is now dead. But all we have got is a handpump, which does not help.''

Ironically, there is no water scarcity in Sundarkhed. Instead, the distribution is lopsided. Potable water from the nearby 40,000-litre capacity reservoir, part of a 1984 Rural Development Project originally meant for the villagers, has been diverted to 10,000 new settlers ever since they began pouring into Sundarkhed in 1989. The settlers, most of them government employees who have set up retirement homes in this scenic location, managed to wrangle water connections from the Gram Panchayat, often without official sanction. Consequently, water supply to the hamlet suddenly changed course, from the slum-dwellers to the bungalows of these affluent encroachers.

Lahane, a former Class-IV government employee, had resigned his job before beginning his crusade. Pedalling a rusty bicycle, his bag stuffed with memoranda, he had pleaded with the local and state government officials onnumerous occasions. Worn out after a fruitless decade, Lahane finally dispatched letters to the local administration and one (dated September 1, 1998) to then chief minister Manohar Joshi, warning them of his impending immolation if potable water was not provided by October 5, 1998.

When the deadline passed, Lahane rode up to the ZP office, and at 11.30 am, he let out a piercing shriek: ``Zilla Parishad murdabad... Brashtachari sarkar cha nished aso,'' he yelled. Then he went up in flames.

On October 12, the Chief Minister expressed concern and promised to institute an inquiry. Still, only a trickle emerges from the handful of taps in the village. Worse, ZP officials say, with the onset of summer, even that will evaporate.

Still, an executive engineer in the Environment Engineering Works Department told The Indian Express that water supply will improve in the next few months, when the State Government's scheme to augment the reservoir's capacity by 4 lakh litres is inaugurated. Under thescheme, being executed by the Maharashtra Jeevan Pradhikaran (MJP), pipelines connecting 13 villages surrounding the district headquarters are already being laid.

But as word of the reservoir's `inauguration' spreads in Buldhana, the colonies near Sundarkhed are growing increasingly crowded. Says Lahane's neighbour, Rekha Khare: ``Once again, we shall end up being the last priority when the water is distributed from the new tank.''

Meanwhile, with only a year to go before the hustings, the Shiv Sena-BJP Government has begun to publicly thump its back on the success of its schemes over the last four years. Ironically, the first advertisement released to the press on March 3 claims that the Water Supply Department, via its Rs 17,000-crore MJP scheme, has already tackled 13,000-odd villages in the State. The banner headline reads: `Every village to get assured water supply by 2000 AD.' Clearly, the government feels Sundarkhed is not thirsting enough for its largesse.

As shovels hoist the mud to expand thereservoir's capacity, nine-year-old Sunita Gaikwad skips along the half-inch diameter pipeline which feeds the bungalows near Lahane's slum. But Sunderkhed's lone handpump is not connected to the pipeline. Its source is the erratic water table, which will yield even less during the hot summer months.

But Sunita couldn't care less. It is almost dusk and she must hurry. Otherwise, even the patience of the bungalow-owners, who sometimes condescend to offer a few pots of water, might run out.

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