Free Falling

I was a good girl; at least they thought I was. Most people would buy it even today, ask anyone.

It all started with a little water only about four to five feet deep.

My father, a rather kind-hearted misfit of a military man, took me swimming to a shallow pool. The good girl that I was, I fared well on the very first day. Papa took me home and patted my back in front of all the awed members of the family. That was a good job done.

But it was only just a small pool.

When I grew up just a little, Mom took me to a bigger pool. A swimming course rather, for tiny little fast learning ‘otters’ like me.

This one was a kidney shaped blue bliss. The water would always be deliciously cool, and in some bizarre way, stimulating to the touch. In the smaller pool I would bravely launch myself into the water, come what may. Yet in this pool, I would step in slowly, letting the icy twitch of the water swallow me up from all sides.

The first thing I noticed however was the diving board.

It stood majestically, facing the deeper end of the pool meant only for the brave of the heart. During my swimming classes with the other children, nobody would dare go near it. Silly kids, I thought, they would cling helplessly to their mothers as I swam across the pool- in the shallow end of course. The trainers stood sentinel right at the beginning of the deeper end, and a uniform long rope divided territory.

My friends stared in awe as I swam back and forth in a single breath. Even more so when I would stay submerged, looking the turquoise blue of the pool right in the eye. They would become paranoid when I didn’t resurface when they thought I would. I simply wasn’t done looking beyond the depths.

I scared them when I was in the water, they said. They refused to believe that I was the same little girl, the type that did her homework right on time without the extra nagging. The moment I would go in the water, the calmness about me changed into a raging fire. It was like a rare disease, and the water seemed to aggravate it. And what made it worse was the highest level of that diving board.

One day, there were fewer trainers than there should have been. One day, there were hardly any parents.

I went with my friends that day, for Mom had work at home and she trusted me. The moment I entered, I noticed the lack of guards, the lack of chains to keep me bound.

With steady steps, I pretended to head towards the shower with the rest of the swimming group, eyeing the three-tiered mystery carefully as I went. In a fleeting moment, I saw the trainers busy in a chat, hardly looking this way. I said a little prayer.

Run.

Run.

Run.

I obliged, magically drawn in.

My steady feet took me to the base of the diving board, for I was good at running on wet surfaces. All my swimming acquaintances screamed in alarm. The trainers whirled around and made a run for it too, but they were too late.

By the time they got to the base I was standing on the highest level, the tallest tier.

Ultimate bliss was moments away.

My mind numbed almost instantly, blocking all the screams and taunts coming from below. All that was now like a distant memory, like a faint buzz of insignificant chatter. I knew that I was beyond their reach, beyond doubt, beyond everything.

The trainers and volunteers got busy climbing up- all of them begging me to come down and not to be scared.

Scared? Not me.

With all my might and all my willpower bundled into one, I mimicked an Olympic diving posture; hands bound in a Namaste at the front, crouched back and a bowed-down head. The moment I bowed was the moment I saw it- some kind of bizarre Nirvana, enlightenment strewn all over the blue water surface. The board sprang precariously, but I was oblivious. There was no going back now.

I synched my feet with the boi-oi-oing of the board, and launched myself right into the air.

Down there, my audience let out an all-shattering, blood curdling scream.

My body cut rapidly through the air, my breathing became heavy as I gained altitude. And then suddenly, I began to lose height. In that single moment I was mortally terrified.

The terror ceased to last though. Very soon, but it felt like forever, the cool blue waves welcomed me with open arms. They engulfed my form like crazy fans at a concert, some patted my back. Others gave me a series of high fives. One or two waves, as if punishing me for disobedience, slapped me across the face affectionately. I felt right at home as I sank, and surfaced back up quickly.

It was the day I returned home both a mischief maker and a hero.