Tale Of A Well

Whenever summer comes everyone in our village remembers the roadside well which was dug in front of our house a century ago. We were the only Brahmin family in our village. There are several other wells in that area, but all become dry during the summer season. So being the only well-having plenty of water, people buzz like bees towards our home to fetch water. Around twelve villages were dependent on that well.

A mythical story tells that one of our forefathers dug that well in two months having meals only once a day during those days. When the work was finished, water came out like it would swallow the whole village within a few hours. Then, one of our ancestors the village head priest gave him the grinding stone of his house, which was put at the fountain hole of the well. Still, the flow of water was enough for all the twelve surrounding villages.

I often visited my village as a small child during my school days with my parents during summer vacations or during the occasion of marriage or the sacred thread ceremony in our family. Whenever I went there in the summer vacation, I found people coming from nearby villages to get water. Some people even came on bicycles with several buckets to get water for their daily use. Women came with big vessels on their heads to fetch water for cooking and other daily tasks.

Once I asked my father, “Why did they come to our house to fetch water? Why they don't have their own well? They could go to the canal nearby our village or to the river five kilometres away from our home!”

"My father replied," My dear Son, they are coming to our home because all the rivers and canals are dried up because of the high temperature. There is only swampy land with no water in the canal and the river is having sand only. So for their survival, they are coming to our home to fetch Water. They are doing hard labour to survive.”

The sympathetic words of my father melted my heart. Till now those words echo in my ears.

The time has changed. Recently a year ago I went to my village. It was a visit after about five years. In these years the village had been changed into an urban locality. A huge number of buildings had been built in that area. When I reached my house I saw the well, four pipes with electric motors were connected to the well. No one is coming to fetch water from the well. Everyone has well, tube well or bore well in their own houses. The well which was enough to give water to twelve villages was then abandoned. It was covered with tin sheets and I never saw anyone fetch water during my stay in my village for a week.