Oh dear, no posts since last writers' circle! Well the only development for me is that I had my CT scan today, but I won't hear results from that for a bit. So here's tonight's writing, inspired by a picture of a spectacular Indian Step Well.
Some secrets are never revealed, some are liberated by loose tongues, and some are exposed by the heartless sun.
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| By Doron - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2761923 |
Ramesh was sitting at the very top. He ran his hands through
his dry, brittle hair. Sweat poured off him, and his foot involuntarily tapped
a tattoo upon the dust. He looked down into the water, unaware of those around
him.
The older women smirked at him, whilst some of the younger
ones looked shyly towards him or giggled as they passed in groups. He did not
see any of them. He just sat by the well, watching the surface of the water, as
the sun punished him.
He wanted to see if the water would go down another level; Ramesh
had not seen it this low since he was a small boy. The sun continued its
persistent assault on his skin, and after two hours, without seeing any change
in the level, Ramesh sighed hugely and eventually departed.
He visited the well every day, and as he saw more and more
water taken, but the level staying stable (even without the rains), he grew
slowly more confident. By the second week, he started to look up when the young
women giggled, and would bow most graciously to the older ones, gaining just a
little affection from them. After a month, he had learned the routine of the
water gatherers and had noticed one young girl in a beautiful orange sari that
was edged with lime; he picked her out each time she came, and gave her his
widest, whitest smile.
His hair was now shiny and bright, and he would wear his
best dhoti. He waited on the side of the well where he knew she would come. And
one day, he waited at the bottom of the well, and carried her pitcher up to the
top for her. The older women watched, and chattered their concern, if not quite
disapproval. Daily, Ramesh’s confidence grew. He now visited the well daily not
to watch the water level, but to see Binita.
The summer went and the rains came, and Ramesh stopped his daily visits to the well. Now he could work on his small farm during the day and went only once a week to the well to meet Binita and carry her water. She wasquiet, but approachable, and Ramesh soon discovered that her mother had plans for her that did not includeher spending more time with the ‘waterboy’. His mind was now focused on the problem of Binita’s mother.
Ramesh made enquiries, developed acquaintances and learned as much as he could about Binita and her family. They were reasonably wealthy so might expect a large dowry, but then again they might have already got a husband in mind. Ramesh let options and opportunities occupy his mind as the cool weather dulled his anxieties and gave him fresh hope for the future.
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In a town not twenty miles from where Ramesh had sat, a new well was being built. There were plans to plant more mango trees and they needed water. There was water under the ground that would feed their well as it did the one in Ramesh’s town. Sacred rituals were performed, architects’ plans followed and work commenced in the evening when the searing heat of the day dulled. If Ramesh had known, he may well have left town. Because in one year or maybe two, when the new well was complete, if they had a summer like this one, then the level in his well would most certainly go down. And then Ramesh would not be able to hide from the truth at the bottom.
Note: I may be inaccurate in attributing names/clothing to the right regions where there are step wells, but I've done my best. Comments/corrections welcome.
And a quick PS - I'll have a very different subject for the next blog as Monday (21 June) is a very big day!
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