Enjoyed this lovely essay about the ponds of Bengal. The author's recounting of how a nameless pond adjoining his ancestral house managed to survive the tide of modern construction was particularly satisfying to read about:
..As construction progressed, however, resistance arose from an unexpected quarter. Every time water was pumped out of the pond, it magically reappeared the next morning. It seemed as if the pukur itself was resisting annihilation. A few old-timers guessed that it was being replenished by neighboring waterbodies through subterranean capillaries. Others found recourse in the metaphysical. The resurrection was bhuture, “ghostly,” a vitalist force commandeered by spirits.
Unable to lay the foundation for a planned two-story house, the builders gave up after a few months, leaving behind debris on the pond bed. As the water reclaimed lost ground, memory of the incursion lingered in the form of a lonely pillar, its steel rods jutting from the surface. Kingfishers returned to perch there, peering sharp-eyed into the grey-green water. On quiet afternoons, standing by the pond, one can hear again the delicate sound of their headfirst plunge, and watch them resettle, silvery morsels in their beaks.
In many neighborhoods in the outskirts of Kolkata, such pukurs and dobas still remain, resistant to the changes sweeping all around. They are not much to look at but provide a habitat for some creatures - fish, birds, frogs, snakes and turtles to name a few. The pukur is probably the last remnant of the past in Bengal and I am glad some of them cannot be filled.
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