I had my first lessons in swimming under the watchful eyes of my father, when we lived in Varanasi for a couple of years. On the banks of the Ganges, the Hanuman Ghat which was close to our house was the ideal place for learning. While my father took his bath, I would be throwing my hands alternately forward in the water with an empty sealed ‘dalda’ tin tied to my waist, to help me stay afloat. The local boatmen would be keeping a watchful eye on me while standing nearby waiting for their customers, mostly tourists.
Incidentally this very ‘dalda’ tin doubled up as my percussion instrument, on which I learnt playing the mridangam in the evenings. My cousins also would join me in the daily morning routine of water sports. With the army of support staff present, I learnt to swim with gay abandon and in the course of time, picked up the art so well that I could swim all by myself for an appreciable distance without any aids attached.
Once, during the summer vacation, when we visited the Marina Beach in the then Madras, we were attracted by the feats of the locals.
Call it herd instinct or mob psychology, it is a trait that invariably affects all teenagers and we were no exception. If it was a full moon day, the local lads would venture a good distance into the sea, swim against the tide to be eventually washed ashore by the oncoming high waves. That inspired us to follow suit. Throwing all caution to the wind and ignoring the advice of elders present, we ventured into the sea wading through knee-deep waters. Two factors gave us the confidence that we would be unharmed in case of any eventuality. One we were reasonably adept at swimming and two, the high tides, as with the others there, would safely wash us ashore. Someone in the group suggested we hold our breath, go under water, count to hundred and then surface.
That indeed appeared simple till we attempted it. We went under water, started counting and then suddenly felt we were drifting away. Panic gripped us when our outstretched hands also did not appear above the water level. All friends and relatives present there, sensing something could have gone wrong, alerted the locals who promptly dived into the water and in a matter of moments fished us out to safety. Standing in knee-deep water the onlookers heaved a sigh of relief. The local lads, their chests puffed up after the successful rescue mission, were all smiles while we sat fully drenched, desperately attempting to spit out the brackish water we had swallowed in large measure. Undeniably, at that moment, we were all at sea!