**Wells of Madina
*By Mustansar Hussain Tarar ***
Do you know that on the day when the waters of a newly dug well sprout for the first time, dozens of midgets leave their underground abode, jump out of the well and disappear before you can catch one of them? If you don’t then you are definitely not a kid from the rural background.
Almost sixty years ago my maternal uncle Cheema sahib decided that on a tract of barren land we should have a new well so that it could be brought under plow. For this purpose a clan of famous well diggers was approached who had specialized in the digging business for generations. As soon As the news of a new well being dug reached the population of village urchins, and I was certainly one of them, the whole lot of them stationed themselves on the magical spot. In the sizzling summer days beneath the burning sun we sat on the mound of earth and peeped inside the pit where the well diggers worked soaked in mud looking like creatures of some other world. Besides, digging they were building a brick sphere which was to be finally lowered in the pit forming the walls of the well.
Then, after weeks of this tremendous entertainment, came the day when hopefully the waters would emerge from the bottom of the well for the first time. We were waiting for the midgets. Not only the kids, but the elders of the village also firmly believed in the myth that whenever a new well was dug, the earth and the underworld were connected and the midgets who lived down below came out with the first splash of waters. When the magical moment approached we sat shoulder-to-shoulder so the emerging midgets would not escape and we could at least catch one midget each for a rainy day. We craned our necks to catch the first glimpse of the little creatures and held our breath.
The first waters did gush out but at least I did not see a single midget. However, every other kid swore that he had seen at least a couple of them scurrying past and disappearing in the nearby cane field. Now it was an utter disgrace if I admitted that I had not seen any, the shame of it could last till my dying days. So I also declared that yes I swear I saw at least a couple of them, one with dark glasses and in his Sunday’s best actually winked at me before disappearing! Perhaps that was the start of my storytelling career, I saw midgets where there were none!
Midgets or no midgets my fascination with wells lasted throughout my life, be it in Andalusia, Iran, Damascus or Turkey. A well along with a bridge and they both connect two different worlds represent best of the human spirit. The cylindrical walls of Mohenjodaro’s well, prove my point.
I was in Madina again, in the city of my Prophet (Peace be upon him) and it was my desire to locate some of those ancient wells whose waters had the honour of quenching the thirst of a person who quenched the spiritual thirst of whole humanity.
I was in Madina again
How does it feel
to be in Madina
Like on the crumbling walls of Alhambra a couplet of Mexican poet Akaza is displayed. He saw a blind beggar in the streets of Granada and told his ladylove:
O, woman - give alms to this beggar,
Because to be in Granada.
And to be blind,
Is the biggest misfortune of this life
And Granada was an ordinary offshoot of this giant blossoming tree that is Madina. In a city like Madina if you are totally blind, even then you are the luckiest person on earth - that is how it feels to be in Madina.
There was good old Maula Bux the Pakistan Consulate driver at my disposal and Baba Faqir an old resident of Madina to show me around. We headed for “Bair Usman”, the well of Hazrat Usman.
Far from the hectic traffic of Madina in a semi-deserted locality we stopped near a totally deserted house. The gate was locked.
“That is the historical well which was bought by Hazrat Usman from a local Jew and then he donated it to the Muslims who were facing a shortage of drinking water.”
There was an abandoned looking rusty tube well in the wilderness of a small lawn beyond the locked gate but I could not see any well.
“Baba, where is the well of Usman?”
"It used to be here and then the authorities erected a tube well on it, you know the pilgrims came and drank its water and took it away in bottles and that was shirk.
“But Babaji water is meant for drinking, what’s wrong with it?”
“Ordinary water yes, but if you consider it holy then it is shirk to drink it.”
"The waters of Zamzam are considered holy, people not only drink it but take it home and immerse their shrouds in it, isn’t that shirk?
Baba glared at me. I could see he was towing the official policy. “Those are Allah’s waters but these…”.Far from touching just one of its ancient bricks I could not even go near it. It could easily be an abandoned Model Town bungalow with a rusty tube well structure, which did not betray the historical well on which it was squatting.
I was disappointed to say the least. I went near the locked gate and as soon as I peeped inside baba Faqir warned, “Don’t try to go near it, it is not permitted.”
I drew back.
Our next stop was “Bair Garas”, an ancient well where the Holy Prophet rested and drank its waters while on his way to Quba from Madina. The well was not visible from the roadside and it was Baba Faqir who led me to a cylindrical wall on which rested a rusted tin roof. Two Pakistani teachers who were on the staff of the Pakistani school situated next to the wall of this well, happened to pass by and with their help I was able to peep inside for a few moments. I have given full description of “Bair Garas” in my column, Farewell, Madina. However, I had missed out in that particular write-up one of the most famous wells belonging to the revered Sahabi, Hazrat Salman Farsi.
These wells along with most of the sites connected with the Holy Prophet are in danger of being obliterated and this is being done very methodically. Hence my humble write-up may someday serve as a reference to the wells gone by.
Bagh-e-Salman Farsi, the unique garden of date trees of Salman the Persian is now no more. There is a piece of barren ground on which only a few years back, some date trees of the unique orchard existed. But they too came under the axe of Shirk and were cut down. The trouble with date trees is that their roots go deep into the soil and even if the trunks are cut down, with the passage of time they again sprout and refuse to die. To thwart this unwelcome possibility, it is rumoured that the roots were finally burnt.
This orchard along with a well, was a gift from Holy Prophet to his only foreign Sahabi. (surely the author never heard of Sohaib the Roman so please do excuse his ignorance)
The unique orchard belonging to the same Salman survived for fourteen centuries and then recently, was cut down and burnt. However, his well still remains, for how long, it is anybody’s guess.
The well is almost of the same size and construction as “Bair Gharas”. It has a huge circumference and is built with rectangular lava stones. The building material of a huge structure has engulfed it already and when the construction is complete the well will disappear forever underneath its foundations. I could not reach the edge of it to peep inside because of the iron girders and bags of cement that were suffocating it but one could hear its laments “I am the gift of the Holy Prophet, I am the personal well of Salman of Faris who saved this city. Let me live so that in times to come people may see in my water the reflections of the Holy Prophet and his dear Salman Farsi”.
Perhaps it was due to his being a fire worshipper once that his orchard was put to torch and burned and as for as his well is concerned it will soon follow the burned orchard.
(I thought mustansar was a good writer and such a stupid comment coming from him really disappoints me)
- = S o U r C e = -](http://www.dawn.com/weekly/dmag/dmag11.htm) (link might not work after a week)