BROKEN HEARTS AND BEDROCKS
Our next door girl, the lean and tall Rani would be waiting eagerly around noon time ready with her round brass vessel to fetch water from the neighbouring huge open agricultural well, as soon the motor pump is switched on by the maintenance electrician to water the plants and vegetables grown in the vast premises of the Government property. Though trespassing was not allowed, it was ignored when it was for quenching the thirst during summer months.
A common short wall separated the Government and private properties. The unguarded wicket gate entry to the Government property from a side road made it easy for the women folk to carry water from the surface tank when the pipe pours water with a roar from a height. The water was allowed to flow into the enclosures separated for the vegetable plants. There was a jamun tree producing the black fruits during summer near the well. Sometimes we would also collect some when no one was around particularly when it was a holiday for the offices in the premises.
In those times open well water was sweet to drink. No qualms of water impurities. Rani was not alone in the hunt. Many neighbourhood families would come with their containers to transport water to their homes. All this would last for a couple of hours till Khan the electrician returns to switch off the pump for the day and go. Khan saab as we used to call him, was a good person and helpful whenever we had an electrical problem in our house. Those were the times of mutual respect and less selfishness. People may not be much qualified but were better mannered. All it would take a few rupees for some small repair work to get it done. Exploiting others in times of need was rare.
Those were innocuous playful days. The dusky Rani was friendly and jovial. She never shied away to hide me in her lap and cover me with her dupatta when we were playing hide and seek with others of our age group. The initiative to find such a cosy place was only upon her invitation. The hiding place was exclusive to me not to everyone.
Breaking the flat bedrock in those days at a depth of some 30 feet or so was not a mean task and very difficult to execute. That was the situation we faced some 50 years ago after having spent considerable money and time for days and months digging up a domestic well in a period of perennial acute water scarcity. Those were the times of erratic availability of surface drinking water and restricted tap water supply. During summer time it was near drought for years. Open wells were the only source to keep people going, if they yielded some water during mid summer luckily. The deep bore wells were not in vogue then nor were the drilling machines available anywhere near the town.
I had seen the wasted toil of the labour and the disappointment of my father, when all the efforts had come to naught after days and days of expectation and prayers for the underground water yield. When the digging bar struck the rock making a loud bang, our hearts sank and our clock went back. All the painstaking labour for water was lost so as the money spent on the endeavour. The lining for the huge well pit was done with cut stones and bricks to prevent cave-in. That was another additional huge expenditure and laborious at that, but indispensable to dig deeper.
That was the second such failure and a bigger one in radius and depth. Neither the coconuts nor the religious chantings saved us from the stubborn underground rocky conditions. The auspicious time and the suitable spot was fixed by a Hindu astrologer for the first aborted well. For the second, some distance away, by a Christian with the Bible in his hand and a prayer on his lips. All this procedure was not because we were particularly religious in such matters, but, the characters were readily available and wanted to test their water divining abilities on us ! Fortunately water has no religion or caste. So as hoodwinking the gullible.
The problem before us or in fact down below, was to have the bedrock blasted as a final trial. We arranged the blasting one day. The couple of blasts only scared the birds on the surrounding trees and made them fly away. We found the next day only more rock and not any trace of water. If any waterdrops were present it was the sweat of the workers.
Years later, another open well was dug in the front side of our house and very far from both the useless pits. This time no formalities were followed either to propitiate the Gods or the humans. Copious underground water was available in the successful well for years on, till the deep bore wells invaded the neighbourhood.
When water was available pumping and supplying was not possible in a single stage with mono block pumps, as the delivery height was more than the motor capacity. We tried pumping in two stages. One pump down inside the well to deliver water to the surface sump and another to pump from the sump to the overhead tank.
Seasons changed and years rolled on, one late mid summer evening, we were alerted by the voice of a girl crying in pain coming from an unknown direction. We were perturbed and went in search of hither and thither in the darkness of the evening, only to find it coming from the open deep well. A torch light focused into the well made us realise that a girl of medium build was standing with her body half drowned in water crying with fear. Though we could not surmise the reason for her fall we immediately made arrangements to bring her safe from the well bottom. Ironically the low water level during the pre monsoon season saved the girl from drowning.
On interrogation the girl confessed that she was a lovelorn and selected our well to end her life. The open well was closed subsequently to prevent such attempts. What love can make and unmake we cannot assume. Moonstruck is romantic but well-stuck is tragic.
We did not want another Dona Paula story to repeat in our property !
When I look back at the past and try to recollect even insignificant incidents for some narration to emerge I realise that life teaches us belatedly many lessons from our follies and foibles. By the time we realise, all the good days slip away and our own people make a departure from this world. The new generation may not be receptive to the things of the past and scoff at the sentimental values.
In these times the closed minds of the humans are as difficult to decipher as the dissolved minerals in the closed deep bore wells. Purification is needed for both, lest they may endanger the health !
ESKAYEN
