My first encounter with prayers and hope and God was when I was 8-years old. I was dragged to the community pool by the compelling words of my dear amma(A south Indian language meaning ‘mother’) but accompanied by the best ever appa(A south Indian language meaning ‘father’) in my little world. The swim coach was requesting me to jump into that warm, deep blue black-hole-of-anything-can-be-down-there 8-feet deep pool segment, after so many failed attempts to persuade me. Did he really think I would let my almost 3-feet tall self get drowned in that transparent water full of wild sharks and beasts ready to jump on me once I give in? He might have been kidding. Hey friends, do not underestimate me. I definitely did put on my crying scene, causing the best ever drama. What I was doing then, is what surprised me. I was holding my palms tight together, praying. Praying hard for my swim coach to stop coercing me into the pool and praying that I was not that cowardly. I was sincerely engaged in my job at hand that I forgot the prying eyes of the others taking the class with me and my father standing at a distance, silently observing me. I felt victorious as I managed to involve all the Gods and Goddesses I was acquainted with as a child, asking them to keep me alive as I dive in. All the while, I was just so sure of one thing. I was going to learn to swim that particular day.
Soon after, he must have realized what I needed, and lent his strong brown arms which were wet and darker than usual from too many hours inside the pool plus the chemical reaction of the chlorine and the sun. He was overtly indicating to me to climb down the stainless steel pool-entry-ladder that I had managed to fit myself in my crouched position. He was dumb enough to manipulate me with his reassuring eyes that asked me to dump the burden of fear on him and let the water teach me its survival tricks. Oh, how stupid of him. I gave in. Grabbing his hands, I floated my way in. I dumped my fear of sharks that would pull me from under the darkness and fear of letting myself put out there and learn what the water is ready to give me. Teach me. Yes, I started using the word “God” as my safe dumping place, ever after.
The coach held my hand, initially, as I settled in, still terrified if he would rescue me from the sharks if they attacked me. My free hand was pushing away the mass of liquid around me as I was struggling to not drown and my legs haphazardly beating the darker water beneath. It’s hard to admit, but I was gaining some kind of weird trust on him considering that I don’t really trust a full grown man who had coached me for just for a week. He was leading me forward and I was flapping my feet to gain momentum, putting in enough effort to please him, which felt really assuring. But suddenly, I felt something was missing. His hand was not holding mine anymore. He was slowly moving backward, and I was really trying hard to push against the law of physics to grab hold of his hand that stopped supporting me. He still was unapologetically moving backwards. I felt like he failed me and that the coach was not worthy of my ill-defined trust. I could hear myself gurgling the water that entered my mouth as a result of my struggle to keep myself breathing above the water. There was no one to help me when I was in need the most. As time passed, I wanted to grab hold of something that would keep me above and did as much as I could to keep my arms and feet flapping against the water. Relief hit me when I was able to get hold of a hand bar by the pool and I steadily pulled myself up. The coach looked at me through his swim goggles, with nothing to say but a steady stare. He seemed pleased and got ready to call out for the next 8-year old to take their turn.
Eventually, I learnt to swim. I was actually good at it. Sharks eating me alive never bothered me from that day on. I was ready to jump in and touching the floor beneath was successful. So, did I find myself believing in God or did I not? Honestly, I have no idea. There is always this place above myself that I allot for an entity. A place that no one can gain unless approved by the two of me. It transforms according to my needs like that Room of Requirement from the Harry Potter series. When I needed a dumping place, it was that. Not more, not less. So, what do you think!!!