THE WELL

A HINDU STORY FROM THE PURANAS

Key Ideas: Hinduism, pilgrimage, generosity

Once, long ago, there was a man named Govindram. He owned a well in the middle of the Rajasthani desert. It was the only well for miles around, and many people came there to drink the sweet water. Travellers had to cross the desert and many would have died had it not been for Govindram’s generosity. His water was free, and people could drink until they had quenched their thirst before continuing their journey.

Among those who used the well was Gopaldas, a good and honest merchant. Every year he left his home and went, on foot, to the city of Kashi on the River Ganges. it was a pilgrimage of over a thousand miles. Finding food and water was often difficult, especially in the Rajasthani desert, where there was miles and miles of hot, dry sand. Every year Gopaldas looked forward to the water at Govindram’s well, knowing that he and his fellow travellers would be able to continue their journeys refreshed.

One year Gopaldas and some people from his village were making the pilgrimage together. It was particularly hot, and particularly difficult to find food and water, but as they crossed the desert, Gopaldas cheered his fellow travellers with promises of the sweet water at Govindram’s well.

As they approached the well, hot very thirsty and tired, Gopaldas could see that all was not as normal. There was a fence around the area, with guards posted. “We need water,” said Gopaldas. “Let us through, or we will die.” “You may drink,” answered the guard, “but the water costs two annas a glass.”

Gopaldas was furious. He reminded the guard that this water had always been free. Many people would become ill and die if they had to pay. The guard was very polite. He told Gopaldas that Govindram had died. His son was now in charge. If Gopaldas wished the guard would take to the new owner.

Govindram’s son was a very smart young man who explained his reasons very carefully. “You see,” he said, “it cost my father 1,000 rupees to build this well, and he never made any money out of it. I need to make sure I get the money back, so I am charging two annas a glass for the water. That is just good business sense.”

Gopaldas thought this was outrageous, but he had a plan. “I will buy the well from you,” he said, “and I will give you 2,000 rupees. That should cover your costs.” The son was more than pleased with the payment. He had made a handsome profit. Gopaldas was now the owner of the well.

First he sent the guard away, then he tore down the fences. “Drink,” he said. “The water is free.” All the travellers cheered, and drank until they were no longer thirsty. One pilgrim came close to Gopaldas to offer a blessing. “May you have a long life, with many sons and daughters.”

“Pray that I have no sons,” said Gopaldas. Seeing that the crowd looked puzzled, he explained. “A son of mine might grow up to be like the son of Govindram, a real modern businessman. If that is so, then you will be paying four annas a glass for the water when I am dead.” And the travellers smiled quietly to themselves, nodding their heads wisely. Like Gopaldas, they did not think that water should be owned and sold.