Don't wait for the can

When I was 13 I wanted to learn swimming. And in Chittoor the only way to do that was through the irrigation wells that fed the paddy, sugar cane crops. I set out to a field near my home, along with my friends (read: swimmers). I had my tummy in knots and was all nerves as I peered down from the top of the well to the blue-green translucent water. A small turtle lay nestled at the bed of the well, lazily flapping its limbs(?!). It was a huge well, a perfect circular structure that had a spiral stair case for one to get to the water level. Sudhakar, my chief instructor tied a 5 ltr plastic can around my naked waist. As I walked down the can kept slapping my butt. I was so damn sure that the the tight-shut lid would come-off the can and drown me. Sudhakar just smiled and I was puzzled by his benevolence. "Let's go down" he said stepping down on to the stair case. I started. I would have crossed four steps when he spun around and pushed me down. I went down screaming. The brick-layered walls of the well echoed my scream. I landed flat on my belly. I don't know how long I was under water; it felt like a long time. I went down, down, down , down... into a spiral abyss. I could see legs lashing out and someone's jocks had slid down and he was pulling it up. And the can propelled me up. It seemed as if it had a mind of its own. I popped up on my back, gasping for breath. My belly was red and it stung as if I was slapped by Mike Tyson. I lay on my back, kicking and using my arms to stay in balance. The dipping sun peered through the leaves of the Gulmohar tree by the 'pump-shed'. I thanked god that I was alive. Sudhakar said "this is not your english medium convent... you learn it the way it is meant to be." I nodded. So he trained me for four days; how to paddle, the various strokes, and more. On the fifth day Sudhakar and my other friends decided that I didn't need the can anymore. I was scared to death. I clung to a gulmohar tree's trunk at the edge of the well and refused to step onto the staircase. "Why the hell did you volunteer? Swimming is 80% in your mind! Lose the fear. That's it. I am ashamed of you - you spineless chicken-cum-gutter rat!" Sudhakar pounded me with his colossal verbal assault. I felt like dirt. I think he saw me cringing within myself in shame. "Do you trust me?" He asked softly. I nodded. And walked into the staircase. "...you shouldn't trust anyone too much!" He said and before I realised I was once again falling into the well... I didn't scream though. I went down. Down, down, down, down. Dark. Murky-green water. A frightened bubble left my mouth. I saw it rocket up. I was drowning. That thought clouded my brain. Clogged my thinking, and let panic take over. My body went limp I guess. I opened mouth and the water gushed in, choking me... I had a searing pain inside my chest. I thought my lungs would explode when something pulled me up by my hair.
I lay gasping and coughing at once. Sudhakar had saved me. "what the hell went wrong?" I yelled at him. "You were waiting for the can." He said. "You were waiting for the can to bring you up. When there was no can."
I learnt swimming that day. I never did wait for the can ever again. And I always quote Sudhakar when I see people refusing to wriggle out of holes. When people have 'helplessness' for an excuse. When people give up too soon. When people short-circuit their brains on their own volition. "Don't wait for the can." I tell them.
Write to me: suman 'at' sumankumar 'dot' com

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