You’ve passed it many a time, emerging from Churchgate station on your way to Fountain. You’ve driven – or biked – past it, a leafy oasis in daytime, a softly glowing jewel at night. Always serenely, surreally aloof from its geostationary position on Mumbai’s map. You may have been intrigued, but moved on without giving it a second thought. Or you may have heard uncles and grandmothers speak of its miraculous powers – or non-Parsis call it a ‘wishing well’. No, it may seem aloof, but it has witnessed Mumbai’s awesomely changing map over three centuries. Yes, it is a miracle, in its very creation, and its continuance for 300 years. The “Bhikha Behram no kuvo” enshrines the name of the man who sank it in 1725.

He was a Bombay merchant, whose poverty-stricken grandfather had left his native Bharuch to seek a better life in bigger Bombay – and been waylaid and even briefly imprisoned by Maratha warriors who had mistaken for a Moghul spy.

One night the now-successful grandson had an unnerving dream in which he was ordered to build a well at a specified spot. He told his wife who rightly scoffed because no potable water could emerge from a location so close to the sea. Bhikha Behram forgot about the impractical idea.

A few months later, his peaceful slumber was again broken by the Voice, this time much sterner demanding why it had been ignored, and ordering immediate obedience. A now worried Bhikaji hurried to the British authorities and asked for permission. They laughed him out of court for the same reason as his wife. ‘Mad bawaji’ they said.

So did his friends and customers, as word of his ‘hare-brained’ project spread.

Afraid of the repercussions on his business and social reputation, Bhikhaiji perforce shelved all thoughts of trying to fulfil the command. But the Voice returned a third time, now issuing an ultimatum. Unable to proceed, he fell into such abject depression that his wife relented, more because she wanted her husband’s return to normalcy – and his once-booming business in imported goods.

Bhikha Behram once again trudged to the authorities and refused to budge till he got official permission to build the well at his own cost. He went to the presumably ill-starred spot, and ordered his men. Lo and behold, almost immediately, they hit upon an underground freshwater spring.

During the bubonic plague of 1896, it was one of the very few wells not sealed on account of contamination Carts and even carriages transported the precious water across the city. For several months, it is said, almost half the population survived on this miracle well. So did the town’s horses, cattle, even dogs and cats, for devout Bhikha Behram built a trough alongside.

The miracle of the well’s water level not falling despite the voluminous amount drawn from it continues.

A bigger mythology grew around Bhikha Behram’s benefaction with the wishes of those praying to it being granted. It came to be seen associated with as Ardvisura Anahita, the deity of water, the element as revered as fire in Zoroastrianism. Which is why the devout flock to it on Ava mahino, Ava Roz. For the past 15 years, it’s now the venue of communal prayer, humbandagi, usually with a jashan and talk by a religious scholar. Prophet Spitaman Zarathushtra preached reverence for all natural elements, and we Zoroastrians hold fire and water especially sacred to our hearts. In fact, the life-force of water is acknowledged by all faiths, and used in all their rituals. Considering the importance of water in our day-to-day life, the United Nations General Assembly has declared March 22 International Water Day.

This is an excerpt from Waternamah: 300 Years of Mumbai’s Bhikha Behram Well, edited by Bachi Karkaria.