Choke Choke Wheeez....Haaaalp! I Can't Swim!

Ever wonder where parental judgement comes from??? From Hugo's house of horrors I should think! Today I am hydrophobic, thanks to my dad's painstaking efforts to drown me in several water bodies, under the pretext of teaching me to swim.

Don't get me wrong here...My dad's my hero. A highly accomplished retired Colonel from the Army, he is a para commando, has scaled the south pole, excels at every possible sport, especially Golf, adept at driving most road vehicles, is a great cook, grandma's favorite son-in-law, funny like how, caring husband, super hero dad, ever ready to help friends and family, at 64, sports muscles to put 20 year olds to shame, greatly loved and admired, can light up any gathering with his humor and charm, one of my role models and one of my closest pals too.


Pa, unfortunately has zero patience with slow learners.


I was three years old. I was in my new lilac and electric blue open back swimsuit from "America". It also had a merry ocean scene drawn on it, some where on my tummy, with a yellow octopus, pink star fish and a white surf board splashing in the waves. I wasn't feeling as merry though. Perched precariously at the edge of the shallow end of the baby pool, I was staring at the blue water bob up an down in the silly square pit. There were other children my age in colorful "chaddies" and swimsuits, screaming their guts out, making life hell for their parents and instructors alike. I was soon going to join their ranks. Of course there were also some that were quite calm about being dunked in water. I am sure they grew up to be nerds.


My father was trying to look his jolliest best, all smiley and grinny, urging me to jump into his arms. "Jump Asha, pappa will catch you, see water is not deep at all, aa jaao jump..its nothing to be scared of". Yeah, right! I wasn't buying it.


I was standing indignantly sporting my best constipated look. I was mighty unhappy, and was making it known. Out of the blue, I was grabbed from behind, swept off my feet and hurled towards my dad! The next thing I knew, I was in water, splashing around, screaming my lungs empty, not taking kindly to buoyancy, climbing onto my dad in a desperate attempt to get out of water. The horrible horrible "Marker Uncle" aka lifeguard threw me into the water! These conspiring adults, I tell you!


That didn't go too well at all.


But my dad wasn't going to give up was he? He was a great swimmer, his son was a great swimmer, wife was an above average swimmer. No reason, why the daughter shouldn't be.


Oh yeah? Well think again!

Eight months later, in Elliot's Beach, Besant Nagar, Chennai, my dad, big brother and I are chilling , enjoying the sunset. Or so it seemed.

Little did I know, what the next fifteen minutes were going to be. We began to stroll, casually towards the water. My brother and dad were holding my hands, one each, flanking me from either side. Our casual stroll soon became a decisive march into the water, and instinct kicked in as a warning. I could almost see what these men were going to do, but it was too late to resist. Held by both arms, I was lifted and dunked repeatedly like a vulnerable tea bag into the salty waves. Splosh! Splosh! Splosh!....

I was held there to drink up, what seemed like all the sea water the planet had to offer. The few minutes seemed like eternity. Apparently the two men thought, forcing me to face my worst fear would somehow rid me of it. Noble thought, but no thank you, next time leave the thinking to someone else.

They were kind enough to drop me off in the shallows before carrying on with their fun and frolic in the water. Soaked to the skin, evenly smeared in sand, crying, also blowing snort bubbles out of my nose, I made my way home. I wanted my mommy!! Home was two minutes from the beach. Bawling, as I waded in through the house, I left a trail of sandy water and watery sand wherever I went. Needless to say my mum was shocked to see me come home looking like a tsunami survivor. And where were the men?

Sure enough, father and son learnt a lesson or two that day from mommy dearest, on dos and donts of teaching me to swim. Lesson one - QUIT.

In the years that followed, my family was going to come to terms with the fact that some people could just not swim.

There is a certain concept in genealogy called the "recessive gene theory", wherein the predominant genes of a certain generation are held back, and not passed onto the successive generation. (No seriously, I am not cooking this one up. Go "Google" it.)

In my case, clearly, the "happy in water" gene was held back. The biology talk aside, simply put I had zero aptitude for swimming. Nada!

Recently in Pattaya, the water sports haven, it was yet again established. I was the water sports geek. The water sports nerd. The uncool water sports person.

Under sea walking was hilarious actually when I think back. I was all geared to climb down into the water, when I panicked and climbed back. Refused to do it. Then, over come by guilt at having ditched the husband who was already down under, I decided to go for it. Once in water, I was holding onto the diver's fingers like it was my last hope of survival. He wasn't going to be able to use those fingers for anything for a while. I was also subjecting the poor man to a wide range of horrifying and dastardly facial expressions. I was contorting my face, wrinkling my nose, rolling my eyes, widening my eyes, puffing through my mouth, fainting a little and basically doing my best to let him know I was dying. Or at least I was sure I was going to.

I finally adjusted to the pressure levels and started breathing easy, by this time diver boy had wriggled out of my vice like grip and handed me over to my husband. "Here! You married the crazy woman, you get clawed!"

Later, I tried all else there was to try - para sailing, motor scootering, skiing, banana boating....
No happiness. Not one bit. Maybe a sense of accomplishment at having faced my worst fears, but no happiness.

I was wet most of the time, I couldn't breathe easy, I was almost drowned and nearly dead, my muscles were rigid from balancing and not falling into the water, my ears and nose were bubbling, my voice was hoarse from screaming whenever there was scope, my hair was a mess and I also payed for all this! No happiness.. maybe little bit. But I still hate water. Period.

It has been several years since anyone tried teaching me to swim or I volunteered to have myself drowned, but It doesn't stop me from owning a smashing black, blue and silver Speedo ;)

The swim suit that will never touch water.