A moment to remember

I remained silent for thirty minutes. If that isn't a sign of a million butterflies doing salsa in my tummy, nothing ever is.

"I need you to be with me through this," I spoke finally.

Same words spoken to a loved one may sound romantic, but when I uttered them to my dive instructor moments before plunging deep into the ocean it was a plea to save my life.

"You are a born swimmer, buddy," Mike assured me. "You know swimming ever before you were born, you know that?"

"May be so, but it all changed after I was born. I am as good a swimmer as a hippo."

He gave me a chuckle and put his arm on my shoulder. I expected he'd say a few encouraging words but he grabbed a hose and deflated my jacket. And that was the beginning of a few wondrous moments that I will always cherish.

With an oxygen cylinder strapped to the back and a pipe shoved into the mouth, breathing ceases to be an involuntary action. Breathing takes up all your mind space. What if oxygen cylinder breaks? What if I run out of oxygen? What if I face breathing problems? One knows the odds of any of them happening are high, but better sense takes a hike when one sails in "uncharted waters". Yes, I had my training in shallow water before diving, but would you feel safe sky-diving with a parachute you bought on eBay? That's how it feels.

Mike lead the four of us down to the ocean bed, one at a time. I was the second one to go. I was too preoccupied with my breathing that I observed nothing. When I hit the bottom I looked around and found M kneeling down comfortably and drinking in the ocean's beauty (which was evident from a loud burp M let out later). For some reasons, I struggled to stay put.  I tried to kneel down but I kept floating up. Mike found it amusing. He didn't think it was a problem worth looking at and he flitted up to check on others. I clutched at an iron rod sticking out of a wrecked ship to save myself from being swept away. Whoever is behind this ship wreck, I love you. Twelve feet deep into the water, the pressure drop caused an acute pain in my ears. It was as though my ears were being pounded from inside the head.

Presently Mike appeared with the third person. Oh boy, ain't I glad to see you again!  A wave of relief washed over me. Never has been a person more important in my life. The fourth person has already panicked and chickened out. Yea, that's just the confidence booster I needed! Mike signaled us to demonstrate important hand signals he had taught us.  Oh great! Here I am, wondering what song they will play at my funeral and you want to have practical lessons? One hand still clutching at the rod, I showed him the signals. A great feat given the state of mind I was in. Just then "the third person" faced problems with breathing and had to be guided back up, leaving M and I stranded in the middle of an ocean and anxiety. Two swimmers have dropped out and two non-swimmers are still sticking it out, haha! M grabbed my arm and signaled if  I was okay. I was going to reply in the positive but just then I had a hamstring-pull from trying to kneel down awkwardly. Now then, I wish they would play 'In My Life'.

When Mike reappeared I signaled something was wrong in my leg and I wanted to go up. He took hold of my leg and gave it a gentle massage. By Jove, that did soothe away the discomfort and I was rather enjoying the massage. Yay, I am getting myself a massage at the bottom of Georgian Bay with aquatic life teeming around me. Am I awesome or what? :P Mike asked if I still wanted to go up. Heck, no! I want to stay on till oxygen runs out.

It took me a few minutes to get over my anxiety. Funeral scenes playing out before my eyes faded out eventually and what unfolded before my eyes took my breathe away. It was a blue paradise. All around me were fishes, floating and gliding gracefully, oblivious of the intruders in scuba diving suit gazing at the marvel that is aquatic life. Here, a shoal of golden fish amusing themselves by swimming in circles around a shrubbery, and there, a huge solitary fish floating about thoughtfully as though it were trying to figure out the purpose of its existence. I glided ahead and put an arm out hoping some of them would bump into it. A few of them darted away while the rest swam their way around my arm. Tiny little silver bubbles it emitted seemed like mercury drops. A fish jamboree. There were more varieties of fish than I could hope to learn their names in this lifetime.

Tucked under Mike's wings, we swam farther into the ocean. Or he did all the swimming while we grabbed his arm to keep level with him. And what lay ahead of us? Another sunken ship in one piece. It must be suicide point for ships. The ship must have been languishing at the bottom for many decades, for every inch of it was covered in green algae. Mike tapped a railing and signaled one and eight. So one and eight, huh? That's 1800 in scuba diving parlance. Gee, I was really focusing during the theory class. Are you trying to say 1800 people sank with this ship or is it the time? Whatever! It turns out the ship had taken up its adobe here during the 18th century.

A little more of floating and our time was up. Only a few moments ago I was aching to go back up but now I wished I could turn into a fish and live happily ever after down under. It was time to say goodbye to our hosts who graciously put us up(and put up with us) at their Eden.  M stole a beautiful little shell. A little something that would remind of a beautiful evening spent in a paradise. Aren't you carrying anything, M asked. Oh yes, memories that will last a lifetime. :)

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