Village pond

[bls31]

An extract from my new book "Smiles Tears and Heartbreaks
The Village Pond

IN THE THIRTIES, when I was five or six years of age and the youngest child in the family, I always accompanied my mother whenever she visited her parents in her native village. The modern age was still in future, the village pond was the favourite playground of my cousins, and I was always a fascinated invitee. Whenever I threw a pebble in the pond, it would make the green moss covering its placid surface part making the water to break into ripples. The long reeds and bulrushes growing around the perimeter of the pond, swayed slowly in the breeze. Dragonflies flitted around flashing colours of rainbow every time the sun caught their wings, a feast to my young eyes, while butterflies fluttered aimlessly about. The humming of the bees and the well-remembered chirp of the koel. There was always a herd of buffaloes wallowing in the pond and enjoying the cool water, with just their nostrils and eyes showing above the waterline. Sometimes the children would also jump in gleefully stark naked joining the buffaloes to beat the heat. It was here and among other wonders of village life that I was initiated in the art of smoking a clay pipe. Crafted from the wet earth of the pond and reeds, it was all pure thrill and fun for a city bred. Villages by themselves were monotonous, with flat-roofed houses constructed by unbaked bricks and only a thick coating of the mud. The houses were all constructed from mud taken from the pond. In fact, that is how the pond came into being in the first place. This was engineering at its best. Before the advent of the monsoons, following the hot summers, the houses were given a coating of a paste made with mica powder mixed with the mud paste. The shining mica deflected the summer heat away from the homes and later prevented damage from rain. This was preventive maintenance and thermal engineering. The heavy rain would fall, beating down upon the houses but the water all drained into the pond filling it to the brim avoiding any flooding of the narrow village lanes, leaving them clean and dry. This was water harvesting, flood control and disaster management. All simple solutions devised for simple problems by the simple but intelligent villagers. Water for drinking and other household requirements was strictly conserved and drawn from the village well, a task assigned to the young unmarried girls of the house and new brides. The well was a popular venue for many budding romances and love affairs as also a meeting place and exchange of gossip for the village belles. Soon progress caught up with village life. Brick houses, now in vogue, became a matter of prestige even though it did not matter that they turned into ovens in summer and iceboxes during winter. Mud from the pond was required no more and it started shrinking. With hand pumps installed in the all homes, the animals were now being given a bath in the courtyard itself. The water flowed out of the house into the narrow lanes creating mud, slush and stink, mosquito became a menace spreading disease and sickness. The males of the household had also greater control on the women folk, who were now confined to the four wall of the house, loosing their small diversion from the monotonous and backbreaking daily chores. The village well came in to disuse and was capped. Now, during the monsoons, or if it rained heavily, the lanes and the houses flooded since the water had nowhere to flow to on the flat ground. The greedy village ‘dadas’ encroached on the now dry and dying pond, grabbing and selling the reclaimed portion of the land to friends and relations. I noticed all of this sadly, as I grew up during my now infrequent visits to the village, but I was helpless to influence the events. Some lucky and progressive villagers, thirsty urban areas and even some government agencies are once again rediscovering the wonders of water harvesting once again, but will the magic of the village pond ever be recreated, if at all?

BLS31

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[DrRajpalSingh]

An extract from my new book "Smiles Tears and Heartbreaks
The Village Pond

IN THE THIRTIES, when I was five or six years of age and the youngest child in the family, I always accompanied my mother whenever she visited her parents in her native village. The modern age was still in future, the village pond was the favourite playground of my cousins, and I was always a fascinated invitee. Whenever I threw a pebble in the pond, it would make the green moss covering its placid surface part making the water to break into ripples. The long reeds and bulrushes growing around the perimeter of the pond, swayed slowly in the breeze. Dragonflies flitted around flashing colours of rainbow every time the sun caught their wings, a feast to my young eyes, while butterflies fluttered aimlessly about. The humming of the bees and the well-remembered chirp of the koel. There was always a herd of buffaloes wallowing in the pond and enjoying the cool water, with just their nostrils and eyes showing above the waterline. Sometimes the children would also jump in gleefully stark naked joining the buffaloes to beat the heat. It was here and among other wonders of village life that I was initiated in the art of smoking a clay pipe. Crafted from the wet earth of the pond and reeds, it was all pure thrill and fun for a city bred. Villages by themselves were monotonous, with flat-roofed houses constructed by unbaked bricks and only a thick coating of the mud. The houses were all constructed from mud taken from the pond. In fact, that is how the pond came into being in the first place. This was engineering at its best. Before the advent of the monsoons, following the hot summers, the houses were given a coating of a paste made with mica powder mixed with the mud paste. The shining mica deflected the summer heat away from the homes and later prevented damage from rain. This was preventive maintenance and thermal engineering. The heavy rain would fall, beating down upon the houses but the water all drained into the pond filling it to the brim avoiding any flooding of the narrow village lanes, leaving them clean and dry. This was water harvesting, flood control and disaster management. All simple solutions devised for simple problems by the simple but intelligent villagers. Water for drinking and other household requirements was strictly conserved and drawn from the village well, a task assigned to the young unmarried girls of the house and new brides. The well was a popular venue for many budding romances and love affairs as also a meeting place and exchange of gossip for the village belles. Soon progress caught up with village life. Brick houses, now in vogue, became a matter of prestige even though it did not matter that they turned into ovens in summer and iceboxes during winter. Mud from the pond was required no more and it started shrinking. With hand pumps installed in the all homes, the animals were now being given a bath in the courtyard itself. The water flowed out of the house into the narrow lanes creating mud, slush and stink, mosquito became a menace spreading disease and sickness. The males of the household had also greater control on the women folk, who were now confined to the four wall of the house, loosing their small diversion from the monotonous and backbreaking daily chores. The village well came in to disuse and was capped. Now, during the monsoons, or if it rained heavily, the lanes and the houses flooded since the water had nowhere to flow to on the flat ground. The greedy village ‘dadas’ encroached on the now dry and dying pond, grabbing and selling the reclaimed portion of the land to friends and relations. I noticed all of this sadly, as I grew up during my now infrequent visits to the village, but I was helpless to influence the events. Some lucky and progressive villagers, thirsty urban areas and even some government agencies are once again rediscovering the wonders of water harvesting once again, but will the magic of the village pond ever be recreated, if at all?

BLS31

[IMG]file:///C:\DOCUME~1\BLS~1.OMS\LOCALS~1\Temp\msohtml1\01\cl ip_image002.gif[/IMG]

Mesmerizing description added with a message for all !

[bls31]

Thanks for the comment. Brig Lakshman