The Maharaja's Well

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Last week, while sorting out new donations at the charity book shop, I came across a small 12 page booklet titled "The Maharaja's well". There was a photograph on the front page of a mantap presumably with a well in the middle and the address below said 'Stoke Row, Henley on Thames, Oxfordshire'. Most curious! I couldnt help read through a few pages before I continued with my work.


Here is the story I gathered from the booklet and later, some quick web search. In 1850, the son of an English country squire while chatting with the Maharaja of Benaras told him the story of a small boy in the village of Stoke Row who was beaten by his mother for drinking up the last of the water in the house during a time of draught. The Maharaja was so moved that he commissioned the digging of a huge well in the village. Water from the well was to be free for the villagers like it is in Indian villages. Also, the well would have to be maintained from the money raised by fruits grown in the village (which I believe used to be the practice in India. I was not aware of that) . To this end he donated enough money to buy a few acres of land and grow cherries, and also maintain a well keeper, for whom a cottage was also built.
It was a huge feat of engineering because the well is 368ft deep (a little more than the height of St. Paul’s Cathedral). The main superstructure is about 23ft high and is topped by a gilded dome. There are many glass lenses fitted into the dome to allow light through to show the water line. Underneath is the winding machinery and a decorative elephant added some time later. A fw years later, a couple of other Rajas who did not want to be outdone commissioned more wells one of which is the drinking fountain in Hyde Park near the Marble Arch. There are more tidbits in the booklet about how the Maharaja insisted that the well be inaugurated, an approach road built to it, etc, to mark various celebrations in The British royal family. There are also details of the expenditure - around 350 pounds for the well and about 75pounds for the cottage. Though the village is no longer dependent on the well for its water supply, the well is being maintained and has a few visitors. Money for its maintenance is raised by the sale of booklets one of which had reached me in the shop.
A multitude of thoughts came up in my mind when I read all this. An Indian Maharaja financing the digging of wells in an English village during British rule? And insisting that the British royal family be honoured on the occasion! How well were the people of Benares looked after by their king during this time? Was the Maharaja just a puppet trying to please his puppeteers? Or should we just look at it as a gesture of goodwill by a rich Maharaja and leave it at that?
Stoke Row is not too far from where I live. Perhaps I will visit it one day.

Garage Sale And Japanese Efficiency

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Now that summer is here, there are a number of garage sales and car boot sales in the neighbourhood during weekends. Tables laid out on the front lawn, unwanted flower vases and cycle pumps, candle stands and electric kettles, laid on the table haphazardly, some items lying in an open car boot nearby. A member of the family and perhaps a friend sitting on the chairs behind the tables sipping tea and chatting, an occasional customer stopping by to see if anything would interest him.....this is the usual scene. The sight of these sales brought back to memory another garage sale I happened to visit in Singapore.

There were eight apartments on our floor, the 16th in a building of about 30 floors. One morning as I was going about my work, I heard a buzz outside, of people talking. The sound of voices grew till I could ignore it no longer and had to open the door to see. There were a number of Chinese women standing on the landing, talking seriously in low voices. There were also a few Indonesian maids and a couple of small children. The thought occurred to me that a Chinese neighbour had died. I couldn't ask them of course, so I just closed the door and went in.
After about half an hour I stepped out to go to the gym. The number of people had increased and I found a familiar face.
I said "Hi! What’s going on?"
"Don’t you know? There is a garage sale which starts at 10 o'clock. The Japanese family is moving away"
I had seen a notice downstairs but had paid no attention.
"But people have assembled here since about an hour, and it is still 9.30!"
"Yes I know, the Japanese give away a lot of very good stuff when they move away" said my friend.
I invited her to come in and wait.
"No, this is a queue" she said. "They allow only six people at a time and I dont want to lose my place. The first ones to go in have a good choice"
I had no idea a garage sale was such serious business. But I had seen nothing yet!
When I got back from the gym after about an hour, I met a number of people emerging from the lift, carrying bags full of play things, a child’s chair, a bunch of hangers and a step ladder, and completely satisfied looks on their faces. My friend had moved close to the door but still had not gone in.
Another hour passed and I stepped out again, ready to go out on some errand. The queue had reduced, and I found another friend from a different building waiting to be let in. I stood talking to her for a minute when the door opened to allow the next batch in. I was overcome by curiosity and I walked in with my friend.
The scene that met my eyes really amazed me. Next to the door was a long table behind which two Japanese women stood. Behind them on the wall was a notice board with a number of small stickers in neat columns. One of the women offered the newcomers huge, neatly folded plastic carry bags to collect whatever they wanted to buy. As I watched, a lady walked over to the table, her bag overflowing with assorted objects. The Japanese women took the bag, emptied it, and removed a sticker from each of the objects, and stuck them in one column on the notice board, packed the bag again, counted the numbers written on the stickers, informed the total to the woman, collected the money, and sent her away with a smile.
I knew the lady of the house a little. When she saw me she smiled and welcomed me. She was walking around the house offering help to anyone who requested it. The two women behind the table were her friends. Everywhere around the house all the household objects sat tidily with neat stickers on them. Some had bold "Not for sale" stickers, others had tiny price tags. Books, toys, utensils, a few objects d'art, electronic instruments, cushions....After a survey, my curiosity was satisfied and I said bye to my friend and went my way. When I returned, it was around 2 in the afternoon. The place was quiet. There was a notice on the door which said "Special offer! 1pm to 2pm. All items 50c!"
Does a garage sale always involve such planning and organisation, I wondered. Now I feel it is just another example of Japanese efficiency.

Let A Girl Overtake Me? No Way!!

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When I was in college I had a bicycle (Yes, back then, college girls didnt zoom around on Kinetic Hondas :)). I loved my cycle. It was my proudest possession. My brother bought it for me soon after he got his first job and from the day it arrived, I was a willing messenger, letter 'poster', money 'withdrawer', shopper.....in general, a great errand girl for my parents. Our family friends, who lived five houses away joked that I took the cycle out even when I had to visit them. I just didnt understand what was so funny about it!

Once I hopped on to the cycle, I hated getting off till I reached the destination. I rode it through traffic, through flocks of sheep, through the rain, and up steep inclines till I got where I wanted.

On the way to college there was a long road that went uphill, became really steep along one stretch, till at some point it levelled out. Most riders, young and old, male and female, got off at that steep incline and pushed their cycles up till they reached the flat road. I was loathe to get off even here.I started pedalling fast a little early so that I gathered a bit of momentum which helped me ride up the hill without any major effort.

Gradually over the days I made a very interesting observation. Whenever I overtook a male rider who was pushing his bike up the incline, I could be sure that within a few seconds, he would be up on the bike and overtake me. The girls didnt seem to care. If they decided to push the cycle rather than ride it, they continued to push it irrespective of who rode past them. This became a game for me. Whenever I saw a male rider ahead of me struggling up the hill, an evil grin would form itself in my head, I would pedal fast, overtake, and start counting. One, two, three, four...... Without fail, hundred percent of the time, before I counted ten he was past me. The younger the poor devil, the earlier he had to hop on to the bike. Such entertainment it provided me, back then!!

Ohhh, the Vanity of Men!!
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