Purification of lake
**Location: Mandi, Himachal Pradesh**
**Jatin's Ancestral House**
**Date: September 4, 1940**
Jatin stood in the courtyard of his ancestral home, the late afternoon sun painting the stone walls in shades of amber. His heart thrummed with a heady mix of anticipation and resolve as Raju shuffled toward him, his weathered face alight with news. "Young Master," Raju said, his voice rough with excitement, "the carts just rolled in—the water filtration materials are here. Stacked up in the warehouse, ready for you."
Jatin's breath caught, a grin tugging at his lips. "Finally," he murmured, clapping Raju on the shoulder. "This is it, Uncle. One more step." The words were a quiet vow, a promise to himself and the land that stretched bruised and battered beyond these walls. Cleaning the lake wasn't just a task—it was a rebellion against decades of neglect, a stake in the ground for Mandi's future.
But Jatin didn't bolt for the lake, tools in hand. He was a scientist, a planner, and he knew rushing in blind was a recipe for collapse. *Sharma Energy Pvt. Ltd.* was still a fragile sapling, its roots barely sunk into the soil. Before he could pour himself into the lake, he needed to shore up his energy project—those biogas units humming in the village were his lifeline, his proof that change was possible. He turned to Raju, who was wiping dust from his kurta. "Call the crew together tomorrow morning. We're expanding—more units, more villages. I want this network growing before the lake's done."
Raju's eyes crinkled with a knowing smile. "You're building an empire, beta, one dung pile at a time. I'll round them up." He shuffled off, muttering about stubborn mules and eager boys, leaving Jatin to his thoughts.
The next day dawned crisp and clear, the air sharp with the scent of pine and smoke. Jatin stood before his small team in the courtyard—Dev the blacksmith, broad-shouldered and gruff; Arjun, the wiry teen with a grin that never quit; and Lila, the sharp-eyed mother who'd taken to organizing the village women like a general. A handful of new hires lingered behind them, nervous but curious, their hands stuffed into pockets or clutching worn caps.
"Listen up," Jatin began, his voice steady, carrying over the rustle of leaves. "The biogas unit here—it's working, right? You've seen it—lamps glowing, stoves firing without smoke. We're taking that to the next villages—Karsog, Sundernagar, a dozen more if we can. Dev, you're on construction. Arjun, you and the new lads handle the digging and piping. Lila, get the women collecting—dung, scraps, anything we can feed these things."
Dev scratched his beard, his deep voice rumbling. "More of those contraptions? My forge's never been happier, Sharma-ji, but that's a lot of hammering. How many are we talking?"
"Ten to start," Jatin said, meeting his gaze. "Enough to light fifty homes each. We'll scale up as the money comes in."
Lila stepped forward, her toddler balanced on her hip, her tone practical. "The women'll collect, but they'll want to know what's in it for them. Free gas for a month worked here, but out there? They're tighter with rupees than Ramesh's fists."
Jatin nodded, expecting this. "Same deal—first month free, then two rupees. Once they see it, they'll pay. Trust me, Lila, they'll fight to keep it."
Arjun piped up, bouncing on his heels. "I'll dig faster than a monsoon flood, sir! Ma's already bragging to her cousins in Karsog—says I'm working for a genius."
Jatin chuckled, clapping the boy's shoulder. "Tell her the genius needs her dung piles, too. Alright, get moving. I'll check in tomorrow."
The week blurred into a whirlwind of plans and sweat. Jatin darted between villages, sketching layouts with Dev, hauling pipes with Arjun, reassuring skeptical farmers with Lila at his side. By the seventh day, three new units were rising—skeletons of steel and hope dotting the hills. Only then did he turn his eyes back to the lake, his pulse quickening with purpose.
---
**September 11, 1940**
The warehouse behind the house was a treasure trove of possibility. Jatin stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of earth and metal. Sacks of activated carbon granules slumped against the walls, their bulk a promise of chemical magic—enough to scrub the lake clean of its poisons. Beside them, piles of silica sand shimmered in coarse and fine grains, their textures rough against his fingertips as he tested them, a tactile reminder of the layers they'd build. Gravel sprawled in heaps, jagged stones of every size, ready to anchor the system. Zeolite gleamed faintly, its mineral heft a weapon against heavy metals, while chlorine tablets sat in neat stacks, their sharp scent cutting through the dust. Stainless steel mesh filters leaned in rolls, glinting like armor, and PVC pipes snaked across the floor, sturdy and silent. Pumps—manual and electric—stood sentinel, their hum a heartbeat waiting to start. Testing kits rested on a crate, tools to measure his triumph.
Jatin ran a hand along a pipe, murmuring, "Two months. That's what it'll take." He saw the lake in his mind—four hundred meters of murky shame—and knew this was a war of patience, not haste.
---
### Phase 1: Initial Assessment and Pre-Filtration Setup (Week 1, September 11-17)
Jatin gathered his lake team at dawn, the shore a muddy sprawl under a gray sky. Dev hefted a rake, Arjun clutched a testing kit, and Lila carried a clipboard, her toddler trailing her with a stick. Three new hands—Ramesh the farmer, Kamla the skeptic, and a quiet youth named Vikram—rounded out the crew.
"First, we learn what we're fighting," Jatin said, handing out vials. "Test everywhere—edges, center, inlets. pH, turbidity, anything you can measure. Write it down."
Ramesh squinted at the kit, his turban tilting. "What's this pH nonsense, Sharma-ji? Water's water—dirty or not."
Jatin grinned, crouching beside him with a sample. "It's how sour or bitter it is, Uncle. Too much either way, and it's poison. Watch—dip the strip, see the color." Ramesh grumbled but obeyed, his frown deepening as the strip turned a sickly yellow. "Bad, eh?" he muttered.
Kamla, netting debris from the shallows, called over, "More plastic than fish in here! Who's throwing this rubbish?"
"Everyone," Lila sighed, scribbling numbers. "Runoff from the market, fields—years of carelessness."
By midday, the data painted a grim picture—pH skewed acidic, turbidity off the charts, heavy metals lurking. Jatin traced the inlets on a rough map, marking where streams dribbled filth into the lake. "Here's where we start," he said, pointing. "Mesh filters at every inlet—stop the junk before it spreads."
Dev and Vikram wrestled the steel rolls into place, hammering stakes to hold them. "Heavy as a bullock," Dev grunted, wiping sweat. "Better work, Sharma-ji."
"It will," Jatin promised, helping Arjun drag pipes into position. "This is just the gate—keeps the big stuff out."
---
### Phase 2: Gravel and Sand Layering (Weeks 2-3, September 18-October 1)
The team carved out filtration beds along the eastern shore, a flat stretch with good drainage. Wheelbarrows groaned under gravel loads, the largest stones thudding into place as Ramesh and Dev spread them thick. "Like building a road," Ramesh laughed, tossing a rock. "You sure this cleans water?"
"Base layer," Jatin explained, leveling with a rake. "Keeps the rest from drowning."
Next came the coarse sand, a gritty cascade over the gravel. Lila and Kamla shoveled in rhythm, their saris dusted gray. "Feels like a beach," Lila said, smoothing it flat. "My little one'd love this."
"Fine sand's next," Jatin called, hauling sacks with Arjun. The finer grains sifted down, a silken layer to trap the smallest specks. Vikram sprayed water to settle it, his quiet focus a steady hum amid the chatter.
"Looks like a cake," Arjun giggled, patting it down. "When do we eat it, sir?"
"When it's clean," Jatin shot back, grinning.
---
### Phase 3: Activated Carbon and Zeolite Integration (Weeks 4-5, October 2-15)
The beds took on a new weight as carbon granules poured in, black and porous. Jatin handed out masks, his voice muffled. "Breathe easy—this stuff's safe but dusty." Dev scooped it with a shovel, marveling, "Like coal, but lighter. What's it do?"
"Sucks up the bad stuff—chemicals, rot," Jatin said, spreading it even. "Magic, almost."
Zeolite followed, its pale grains glinting. Kamla ran her fingers through it, curious. "Pretty, like river stones. This kills metal?"
"Traps it," Jatin corrected, piling it on. "Heavy metals, ammonia—gone."
Lila coughed through her mask, waving dust away. "Better work, beta. My lungs can't take much more of this!"
---
### Phase 4: Water Circulation and Initial Filtration (Weeks 6-7, October 16-29)
The pumps whirred to life, a low growl as water surged through the pipes. Jatin stood with the team, villagers crowding the shore—Ramesh's wife, kids with wide eyes, old men leaning on sticks. The first trickle hit the beds, murky brown seeping through gravel, sand, carbon, zeolite. Then—a clear stream burst from the outlet, sparkling in the sun.
A cheer erupted, raw and wild. Dev thumped Jatin's back, laughing, "You mad genius!" Lila hugged her toddler, tears in her eyes. "Clean water—my baby'll drink this!" Arjun whooped, splashing it on his face, while Kamla nodded, grudgingly impressed. "Not bad, boy. Not bad."
Jatin's smile broke wide, his chest tight with pride. Ramesh lifted a clay pot, filling it with the flow. "Tastes like the hills," he said, passing it around. The villagers drank, their faces alight—hope, disbelief, joy.
Jatin watched, the weight of two months lifting. "One step," he whispered, the lake shimmering before him—a promise kept, a future begun.