Rajasthan

Anupam Mishra

Environmentalist
Gandhi Peace Foundation, New Delhi

 

Covered with sweat, the chelvanji is at work inside the kuin (well). Already about a depth of thirty to thirty five hands (cubits) have been dug. Now onwards the heat inside will go on increasing. The width of the kuin and its circumference are extremely narrow. Just the distance of a hand separates the back and the chest of the squatting chelvanji from the earth. In such a narrow space one cannot dig with a kulhari (axe) or a phawara (shovel); it is with the help of a basauli that the digging is done. The basauli is a tool which looks like a small phawara with a small handle; the pointed blade is in iron and the handle in wood.

The already hard work being carried out inside the well gets affected by the ambient heat. To lessen the heat, those who are on top, on the earth’s surface, vigorously throw fistfuls of sand from time to time into the pit. Thanks to this, the fresh air of the top is thrust down and the hot, stifling air accumulated down is forced up. The sand grains being thrown from such a height could well hit the head of the chelvanji at work; therefore, to protect his head, the latter wears a headgear made of brass or some other metal as a helmet. Inside, after a little digging, malba collects around the feet of the chelvanji. A little tub (dol) or bucket (balti) is lowered to him with the help of the rope.

The mud is collected into it. When this is brought up, inspite of all the precautions taken, there is still the possibility of some pebbles falling out. The helmet will then protect the chelvanji from these also.

Chelvanjis or chejaros are people who are expert at digging wells and also at doing a very special chinai (covering) of their inner walls. This work is called cheja. The kuin at which the chejaro is working is no ordinary construction. A kuin is in fact a very small kuan (well), kuin is feminine and kuan, masculine. The kuin is actually small only in width, as far as its depth goes, it is quite deep. In Rajasthan, the depth of kuins can vary for specific reasons from place to place.

The kuin differs from the kuan in yet another way. The kuan is dug to tap the water table but the kuin does not access the water table in the same way as the kuan does. The kuin collects rain water in a very special way that too even when there is no rainfall. In other words the water of the kuin comes neither from the surface water which trickles down nor from the water table. It is a complicated affair which can best be described as the upanishadic neti,..neti (not this, not this).
In the desert the extent and the depth of sand are infinite. Here even if there has been heavy rainfall, it does not take long for the water to be absorbed in the ground. But from place to place, beneath the surface of the sand, at a depth ranging from 10 to 15 to 50 to 60 hands, there can be a layer of gypsum. Wherever it is present, this layer is quite long and large; however, since it is covered by sand it is not visible from the top.

In such places it is through the changes detected in the soil that one can discover the layer of gypsum while digging for a kuan. In the case of kuans, water can always be reached at a depth of 150-200 hands but then this water is very often salty. Therefore, it is unfit for drinking. This is why, in such regions, kuins are built. To detect the layer, the experience of generations also comes in handy. Should even a little rain water stagnate in such places, then it is the indication that a layer of gypsum is present there.

This layer stops the water from percolating till the salty water table. In such cases, the rainwater which falls gets trapped between the sandy surface and the gypsum layer beneath it; it then spreads as a humid patch. During periods of intense heat, it is possible for this humidity to evaporate. But in such regions, Nature offers yet another unique kindness. The particles of sand are very fine; they do not stick to each other like the particles of earth do. Where there is attachment (lagav) there is also detachment (algav) . The particles of earth that stick to each other can also be dislodged: that is why some places are bereft. In regions where there is a predominance of black or mixed domat earth such as in Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, Maharashtra, Bihar and others, as soon as rain stops and the sun shines, the earth particles stick to each other and thus there are cracks in the soil, the fields and the yards. Then, the humidity collected in the soil escapes from these cracks as vapour to go back to the atmosphere, the moment the heat starts.

Yet here, union comes from disintegration. Normally in the desert, the sand particles remain dispersed. Since there is no mutual attraction, therefore there is no separation. When rain falls, the particles become a little heavy but still they do not get dislodged. That is why there are no cracks on the surface of the desert. The rainwater that gets collected inside remains there. On one side it is protected by the layer of gypsum, which runs underneath, and on the other side, the innumerable particles of sand stand on rigorous watch on the surface.

Every single drop which falls in this region penetrates the sand and is transformed into humidity. Thus when a kuin is made, its belly, its empty cavity transforms the humidity present in the sand surrounding it into drops once more. Each drop seeps in to fill up the kuin with water – water as sweet as ambrosia in an ocean of salty water.

To access this ambrosia the people of the desert like the Gods during the samudra manthan have not spared any effort. They elaborated a whole science to translate their experience into practicality. This science classifies the available water into three forms. The first form is palar pant, which is water that is directly obtained from the rains. This water falls on the surface of the earth and is contained in rivers, lakes adi (etc). The word adi itself is pregnant with meanings, which will be revealed later on.
The second form is called patal pani, or one can say ‘hadean water’, (i.e., actually subterranean water). This refers to the water table, which is accessible from wells.

Between the palar and patal forms we have the third form of water which is rejani pani. This water percolates through the earth surface but does not reach the water table.

To measure the rainfall the terms inches or centimetres are not used; instead it is the word reja which is used. And reja does not measure the precipitation which falls on the surface; it measures the amount of water stored within the earth’s surface. If there has been a rainfall in the desert, which allows five fingers of water to infiltrate into the earth, then it is said that five fingers reja rain has fallen.

Thanks to the gypsum layer, the rejani water does not mix with the patali water. In the absence of such a layer, the rejani water slowly percolates to the water table and thus loses its specific properties. For if at places the water table is salty then on reaching it, the rejani water too will become salty.

It is indeed a special art to construct a kuin which will be able to collect this special rejani water. The chejaro who takes down a kuin having a circumference of 4 to 5 hands to a depth of 30 to 60-65 hands amply measures the skill and caution required.

Chejo, which is the art of covering with (chinai), is die very life of the kuin. The smallest error while doing this work can cost the life of the chejaro. Every day, a little bit of digging is done, the debris are removed with the help of a dol (tub), then any further digging in stopped and the covering of the surface of the work done so far is done so that there is no caving in.

As the cejaro goes deeper at a depth of 20-25 hands, it starts getting hotter and hotter and the air starts getting rarer and rarer. Then fistfuls of sand are thrown from the top. The gust of air which displaces the huge sand dunes of the desert then wafts from the small fistful of sand to reach the sweating chelvanji down below and give him some respite. At places this already difficult work of making a kuin gets further complicated. At such places it is not possible to stop the earth from sliding by lining it with stones; in such cases the kuin has to be ‘tied’ with ropes.

The first day, at the same time as the kuin is dug, a huge pile of grass named khimp is collected. “While the chejaro starts the digging, the rest of the people start weaving a rope which is three fingers thick with the khimp. At the end of the first day’s work, the kuin reaches a depth of about ten hands. The first circle of rope is then installed by setting the rope against the wall; on top of the first circle, comes the second one and on top of the second, the third circle, then the fourth and so on and so forth. The thick and coarse khimp rope presses with all its weight at each round and each round of rope gets interlocked with the other as they are rolled on top of each other. The extremity of the rope reaches the ground level.

The next day more digging (the length of a few hands) takes place; a few more hands of earth is dug out and the kundali (coils) of rope which was fixed the previous day is then shifted to the newly dug area. The upper part of the free wall is then covered with new rope. To maintain the coils of rope on the wall, in between they are covered with chinai (masonry work).
For a 5 hands large kuin, 15 hands of rope is required to make just one coil of the kundali. For a depth of one hand, 8-10 coils of rope are required and this itself measures up to 150 hands. Therefore, if a 30 hands deep kuin has to be lined then one requires a rope of around 4,000 hands. People who are watching and are not familiar with the process will wonder what is going on: the digging of the kuin or the making of rope?

At some places neither too much gypsum nor too much khimp is found. Yet if rejani water is present kuins are definitely dug. At such places the wall of the kuins arc lined with long slabs of wood, made from the branches of ami, ban, bawal, or kimbat. The ami is best suited for this work. However, even if the best or second best wood is not available, one can always use ak.

The slabs are made to stand, bottom to top, interlocked with each other. They are then tied together with the khimp rope. At places even the chag rope is used. This tying up too has the shape of a kundali and is therefore sometimes called sampni the serpentine.

The chelvanji, who is busy digging and lining the kuin, knows the properties of the soil very well. The moment he touches the layer of gypsum, the work is stopped. At that moment the water starts oozing, and the chejaro comes up.

The successful completion of the kuin, i.e., when water is reached, becomes the occasion of a celebration. In any case, normally from the very first day good care is taken of the workers, as per the traditions of this place; but on the completion of the work there is a celebration and a special feast is organised. At the moment of departure, the chelvanji receives several types of gifts. Jt is not as if from that day the relationship between the chejaro and the village is over. According to tradition, throughout the year, during auspicious occasions and festivities, during weddings, he receives the gifts customarily given to members of the family and close friends. During harvest, in the khadiyan, a special pile of cereal is kept for him. Nowadays the tradition of just giving a salary for the work done has been adopted.

There are many places where instead of the chejaro, ordinary householders themselves become masters of the art. In several villages of Jaisalmer, the kuins made by Paliwal Brahmins and meghwalas (counted as a scheduled caste today) two hundred years ago are still tirelessly providing water.

There are three major reasons for keeping the mouth of the kuin narrow. The drops of water coming from the humidity trapped in the sand seep in very slowly. Throughout the day the amount of water that gets collected in the kuin is barely enough to fill two to three pots. The amount of water lying at the bottom of the kuin is so little that were the opening to be large, the small amount of water would spread and then it would be impossible to bring it up. In the narrow kuin, the water, which slowly oozes in, attains a height of 2-4 hands. At some places, for this very reason, instead of using a small bucket for pulling the water up, a small charas (water skin) is used. A metal bucket does not get immersed. But the water skin made of coarse cloth or leather has a heavy iron ring around its neck. When the charas hits the water, the heavy top part falls on the lower part and thus, the charas gets properly immersed even in the small amount of water. Once it gets filled, when it is brought up, the charas takes its full shape.

Of late, roads have been built around some villages and trucks go by them. In such villages we find that small charsis have been fashioned out of torn tyre tubes.

Another reason determining the circumference of the kuin is the scorching heat that prevails in these regions. If the circumference is big then the water within the kuin will spread and the big circumference will not be able to stop the water from evaporating.

To keep the kuin and its water clean it is necessary to cover it and it is easier to cover a narrow opening. Generally all the kuins are covered with a wooden cover; however, at places one may also find covers made of small twigs or grass like vetiver. Where new roads have been built, leading to the increased coming and going of unfamiliar and new people, there the water, which is as sweet as ambrosia, needs to be protected. At such places, often, small locks have been put on the cover of the kuins. Locks are also put on the pulley (ghirni) or the wheel (chakri) fixed to the kuin for pulling water.

If the kuin is deep then a ghirni or a chakri is fixed to it to facilitate the pulling out of water. This device is also known as gaderi., charkhi, or pharedi. The pharedi could also be fixed on two iron arms. However, generally, it is fixed on a rounded, strong trunk, after a hole has been bored through it. This is called audak. Without the audak and charkhi it would become very difficult to draw water from such a deep and narrow well. The audak and the charkhi enable the charsi to come up without hitting against the wall of the well and without spilling water. It is also helpful to pull the heavy weight.

A gypsum layer usually runs for a long distance and that is why all along this length kuins are constructed. In fact, at places, one can find 30-40 kuins in a big and clean field. To each house its kuin^ and if the family is large then there is more than one.

The sacrosanct line, which divides private property from common property, gets strangely erased when it comes to kuins. To each their own kuin; everyone has the right to construct a kuin and use its water. However, the kuin is constructed on land which is the collective property of the village. The rain which falls there remains throughout the year in the form of humidity and it is this humidity which feeds the kuins throughout the year. The amount of humidity present is determined by the amount of rainfall. Constructing a kuin in that area means sharing the humidity present there and that is why, though the kuin is a private property, since it is constructed on collective property, it falls under the control of the village society. It is only in case of dire necessity that permission is granted to build a new kuin.

Each day the kuin reinforces the meaning of the well-known proverb about the goose with the golden egg: throughout the day only 2 to 3 pots of sweet water can be drawn from the kuin. That is why, every day, at dusk, when the cows come back home raising dust, the village assembles around the kuins and it looks as if a mela (fair) is on. In the plain adjoining the village, the sound of the pulleys of the 30 to 40 kuins, turning at the same time mingles with that of the bells of the cattle returning from the grazing grounds. After 2 to 3 pots are filled up the bucket and ropes are kept back, the kuins are covered again. Throughout the night and throughout the next day the kuins will rest.

It is not as if gypsum layers are present under the sand throughout Rajasthan; that is why kuins are not to be found everywhere. However a gypsum layer does run through Churu, Bikaner, Jaisalmer and Badmer: that is why, in these districts, kuins are to be found in each village. In fact, in the district of Jaisalmer, in the village named Khadedo Ki Dhani there were 120 kuins. People used to call this village cha-bisi (six times twenty). At places the kuins are called par and several villages of Jaisalmer and Badmer owe their existence to these pars which explains why several villages have the suffix par attached to their name: Janare Alo Par, Sirgu Ah Par.

The name of the gypsum layer can change from place to place. Somewhere it is called charoli and somewhere else dhandbro or dhardharo. Somewhere it is bittoo ro balliyo and elsewhere it is just khadi.

And it is on the strength of this khadi that in the midst of a salty water region, the kuin gives sweet water.

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Anupam Mishra

Anupam Mishra travels across India studying rainwater harvesting methods and learning from the local people behind them. He presents his findings to NGos, development agencies and environmental groups, pulling from centuries of indigenous wisdom that has found water for drinking and irrigation even in extremely arid landscapes through wells, filter ponds and other catchment systems. Anupam Mishra has been working to bridge the gap between modern water manage- ment technology and india’s heritage of water harvesting, so that every community is self-sustainable and efficiently safekeeping an increasingly scarce and precious resource. Anupam Mishra has served Gandhi peace foundation, New delhi as the secretary.