water

As a child you forget to estimate the power of the natural forces around you. You deem it as unimportant. You take it for granted that you are bigger than it. You are brave and feel invincible. Then a mighty wave pushes you under the raft. There are a several voices panicking and screaming in your head.
“Stay calm! Stay calm!”
“Fuck I'm going to die!”
“Don’t breathe.”
“Push your way out.”
“Blue.”
“Stay fucking calm.”
“Is this it? This cant be it.!”
“No one knows I'm missing!”

I don’t know how long I was under. A minute. An hour. A day.
The water calmed and the boat was free from the rapid and I was still alive and I kicked my way out from under. No one knew. No one would have known until the head count. All my stupid fucking bravado fell off my sorry face and drowned deep down into the river.

I am a water baby. I love the feeling of being immersed in a world that isn’t my own. That sublime sense of weightlessness. Under water it almost feels as if time has slowed down. But then there is a great sense of respect that the Ganga instilled in me with great force. It is a fearful respect. It mustn’t be taken for granted. I am not bigger, greater or stronger than the natural elements I have been born from.

I’ll be diving deep below the surface soon. I must think like a fish and forget I have a nose until I need to defog my glasses. I mustn’t panic, but I must be brave and cautious. I mustn’t breathe too fast.

I am scared. I should be brave.