The Girl At The Well

By Vishakha Choudhary

Phooli was unhappy. She had already been to the well twice today. And the first time

around, she had to carry an extra bucket of water at top of her two matkas. The second

round thankfully was just the matkas but the third round was a bit much. If mother was not ill

in bed she would have considered saying no to her aunty. Surely, Raju could bathe in water

from the hand-pump.

But saying no would mean her aunty calling them lazy and freeloaders. With mother already

sick, she did not want any drama today. So, to the well it was. So far, she had only swept

the floor, made chai for everyone, peeled some vegetables and carried the water.

Sometimes, she missed when she was younger and could run around with other kids

without any responsibilities. Look at Kajal, she runs around the entire day with her dusty

chappals no matter how mother scolds her. Secretly, in the crevices of her mind, she envies

Kajal, and her carefree days. But then she looks at her mother, and sees how proud she is of

Phooli for helping so much. She resolves then to do more.

The well is a long walk away fro the village. She remembers when she was little, she used to

accompany her mother on the trips to the well. They do have a smaller well in their village,

but some of the families are not allowed to use it, Phooli’s family included. Her mother

hushed her when she once asked for the reason. Now a grown up at 15, Phooli knows

better. Their social standing does not allow certain privileges. Water from the village well is

one of it.

Usually, she does not mind the walk. Not even in winter, when even two shawls can’t keep

her warm along the way. But in summers, especially when she has to make a second round

sometimes, the sun is overhead, like a ball raining fire. Once she remembered feeling so

dizzy she was sure she was going to fall halfway through the trip. It was only the fear of

breaking those matkas and her aunt’s ire that made her brave the way. Mother had not let

her go alone the next day, even if it has been long since Phooli had overtaken the water

duties. Remembering her mother’s ashen appearance, Phooli only feels worse now.

Uncle is taking Raju to get admitted in the college in the nearby district. Their aunty’s best

hope is Raju getting a government job so she could brag about it. Phooli herself has never

been to school, something that was understood from the beginning. But she tried for Kajal,

no matter how her mother tried to silence her, she tried. She knew her aunt was a lost

cause, and perhaps her uncle was as well, but she had to try. If Kajal could go to school,

maybe she could get a good job like those heroines in movies. Their aunty did not allow her

and Kajal to watch much TV, it was mostly for Raju to watch movies.

When Kajal was three, she went to her uncle and after giving him his chai, asked him

whether he can allow Kajal to go to school. When he did not speak for a few moments,

Phooli felt hope. Maybe the family would be different to the younger ones. When he did not

speak for over a minute, the dismissal was clear. Kajal would have to learn household

chores to the best of her abilities if she did not want to shame their family when she got

married. She still had time. Phooli was sure uncle was already looking for a groom for

herself. Even though no conversation has occurred in front of her, she knew they were only

waiting for Raju to go to college to dispense with her.

Mother would not say a word, Phooli knew. After her father had died of Cholera when

mother was pregnant with Kajal, uncle was the head of their household. If they stepped a

toe out of line, they would be besmirching the family and the community’s name. Phooli had

to cherish it more than her life.

Reaching the well, Phooli tied the matkas with the rope and filled them with ease. Nothing of

consequence ever happened on these walks. Apart from that one time three years ago,

when she had been on her way back from the well and some white foreigners had pointed

at her and clicked her pictures. She was so elated that as soon as she got home she told

the story to mother and Kajal like a great secret. Even when mother had scolded them, she

and Kajal at giggled at her reverent retellings. Next day, she had combed her hair neatly and

wore her best tunic. But no one was there. Phooli’s heart was not at work that day.

On her way back to home, Phooli has a realisation that the only time she’s been truly by

herself is at the well. No one giving her chores, no one speaking of her shortcomings, no

one doing anything. She almost laughs, perhaps she’s so tired from her third round to the

well that she likes the well now. Perhaps if it was something better, like going farther than

the next village. Imagine going to a city, or travelling the country. She’s sure half of mother’s

time would go in asking Kajal to not run around. Phooli would have to make sure mother can

also look at the beautiful sights.

Since she was a child, Phooli’s biggest dream has been to sit in a plane. No one in their

family has ever sat in a plane. Even in their village, only one family’s son has ever sat on a

plane. She remembers the excitement people had after that boy came home. If she could

somehow ever sit in a plane, that would be perhaps the best feeling in the world. Mother

would never believe it. Phooli’s second biggest dream had been to try a jeans, after she saw

a photo in the newspaper as a child. Mother had been so scandalised that she had to forego

even the thought of it. Raju has two pairs. The closest Phooli has come to jeans is washing

Raju’s jeans.

Entering her home, Phooli empties the matkas into a tub for Raju to take his bath. Before

she goes to kitchen, she’s thinking of checking on her mother. Maybe she’ll need medicines,

Phooli has promised two bananas to the local deity in hopes of mother getting well. As she

takes a step ahead, she hears her aunt calling from the kitchen.

It is time for the evening chai.

By Vishakha Choudhary