Well

“Dadu, what’s a well?”

Old man looked curiously at the boy. “A well! It’s deep hole dug in the ground. People draw water from a well.”

“Don’t they get water from the taps?”

“Yes, in many places people don’t get water from the taps. Well’s water is also used for irrigation by some farmers.”

“Have you seen a well? Was it very deep?”

“Yes, I have seen one. When I was your age, we lived in Srinagar. There is a temple on the Residency Road where I saw a well. It is narrow and very deep.  But its water was very tasty. I don’t think any other water tastes like that.”

“How can anyone live in a well?” the boy surprised his grandpa with this question.

The old man looked at the boy, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Who lives in a well? You mean that ghost? Has he not moved to the banyan tree?”

“No, the monkeys don’t allow him to live on that tree. He is very sad and unhappy.”

“Did you meet him again? And did you give him your tiffin again?”

The boy made a face and just nodded.

“You seem to have become friends?”

The boy again nodded.

“I think I would like to meet this ghost. Perhaps I can help him to move to the banyan tree.”

“No!” the boy almost shouted. He looked flustered. “He is a very shy ghost. He will not meet you.”

The grandfather smiled. He knew that the little boy was up to some mischief.

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A post for A to Z challenge

Today’s letter W

You may like to read my earlier post here Violet Vase