A story WELL told…

My younger daughter often calls me “naughty boy” or “impish”, thanks to my cohering habit of sneaking a cigarette into my wind pipe every now and then. Her shrill rebukes pierce through my heart but I choose not to retaliate hoping someday she’d understand. I just wish she’d understand that living in Bangalore and spending the whole day alone (while she is out at office) in a single BHK with frequent power cuts, there isn’t much for an old man to do than walk up to the tea stall nearby and drag a fag! Besides, if this behavior is impish I wonder what would have she done had she met me during my puerility.

The particular incident I am about to narrate happened when I was about a decade old. My curiosity levels were high like any inquisitive kid and being “careful” was non existent in my dictionary. I cannot recall clearly, but I do remember that something had fallen into our well. Those days there were no facility of running water and taps, not even tubes wells. What we had at our little rural domicile were bore-well like structures, only not as deep or narrow. Anyway, here’s what happened… I saw something fall into our well and raced towards it to see what it was. There was barely any light in the well, so I rested my belly on the thin wall of the well and leaned further down to see what had fallen. Before I knew, gravity had its impact on my fragile body and I was wrenched into the well. Whoosh! All of a sudden it was pitch dark and water everywhere. Since I didn’t know how to swim I hit the panic button and looked at death straight into the eye. All the sixteen hundred Hindu deities came to my mind except that I didn’t remember half of their names. Nevertheless amidst the fear, breathlessness and will to live I chanted all the mantras and prayers that I could remember, including multiplication tables.

I still do not know if the Gods heard my prayer; took pity on me or were simply amazed at my ability to remember math at such an ungodly occasion, but my prayers were heard. I heard a familiar voice at the opening of the well. “Bimal, Bimal” It was farner that called out my name.

“Bimal, stay calm. Don’t panic. We’ll get you up!”

“Don’t panic, huh? Don’t panic my a**!! You get down in here and then we’ll see if you panic or don’t? But the question is what sane person jumps into a well anyway?

“Bimal, Bimal, Are you there?”

What? Ofcourse I am here, I fell into a well, do you expect me to get wings and fly out of on my own? “Yes I am here, I fell down” I called out coyly.

"Okay. Here’s the deal…hold on to the water bucket that I am suspending. Hold on tight and we’ll pull you out okay. "

“Okay”. I answered
“Are you scared?”
“Uh Huh!”

The water bucket was suspended and I caught hold of its cold metal and the rope attached to it. Our farmer carefully pulled me up with his strong hands, increasing my hope to survive with every pull. The well was deep and it did take a while for me to be pulled up to the ground. As I approached the mouth of the well, a gallantry felling overwhelmed me but that was short-lived. I saw my elder sister anxiously waiting for my arrival and the moment I saw her I realized the rest of the family would be equally anxious, especially my mother. Worse, she’d be furious over my mischief, probably waiting to welcome me with a long cane in her hand. I had been rescued from the well and my precious live saved, great; but who would save me from my mother’s bashing?

I gathered myself up and this time it took more courage than being in the cold water. The moment I got back on ground, boom, like the Gods and Rakshasas disappear in Television serials, I vanished! I held my breath and started running as fast as my legs would carry me. (Although my sister did manage to catch hold of me for a fraction of a minute and hit a hard slap across my face. But that was still better than my mother’s bashing.) I returned home hours later when my mother’s tidal wrath had subsided and things returned to normal again. I thank God for saving my life, but more importantly I thank him for giving me the strength to defy a beating from my mother.

I could never gauge the magnitude of the risqué I had put myself in back then, I only realize it now. We, human beings do not believe in miracles unless they are physical or grand. But miracles occur in our lives all the time, we just don’t recognize them. Had our farmer not been there at the right moment, I would have drowned and never known what the rest of my life had to offer. If this isn’t a miracle what is?