Dancing With the Waves
Rekindling childhood magic in the coastal town, Puri
I need the sea because it teaches me.
I don’t know if I learn music or awareness,
if it’s a single wave or its vast existence,
or only its harsh voice or its shining
suggestion of fishes and ships.
The fact is that until I fall asleep,
in some magnetic way I move in
the university of the waves.― The Sea, Pablo Neruda
As I stepped into the corridors of the BNR hotel, my gaze involuntarily went up to the vintage ceiling fans. Their unhurried rotation told the tales of yore.
As a child, I treasured our frequent visits to Puri, and the BNR hotel was always the chosen abode. The verandah, overlooking the tumultuous sea, became the hub of our warm conversations and laughter that oscillated alongside the roaring waves. Over time, the concrete structures now obstruct the once-unobstructed view of the sea, but the memories live on. Despite the lure of many new swanky beachfront hotels, my heart remained loyal to the BNR.
I leisurely strolled to the sea in the afternoon, just a five-minute walk from the hotel. It was a nostalgic reunion with the sepia-toned memories where my father, a skilled swimmer, would guide me through the turbulent waves. The most alarming character of the sea at Puri is the speedy creation of undercurrents that swiftly erode the sand beneath the feet, pulling you into a deep pit. In a jiffy, you’d find yourself caught in its ruse, descending into an abyss where the undercurrent’s relentless grip becomes inescapable. It can be the dance of deception, where the sea beguiles you into its intricate web! My father would say — “Never succumb to fear and futile resistance; always respect the waves.”
Time had passed, fueling an unyielding desire to confront the mighty waves of Puri once more. This time, I was on a journey alone, and my determination soared even higher, driving me to face the undulating waters with courage.
That afternoon, the weather had me puzzled. The sun was blazing, casting its radiant light on the beautiful waves that beckoned me. Though I consider myself a decent swimmer, I hesitated to dive into the towering waves. The beach was nearly deserted, except for a small shack where I spotted a coast guard chilling with a big tube.
I walked over to the shack, which was the only one around. The sun was scorching, and the coast guard, known as Nooliya in Puri, graciously got up to offer me his seat. A nearby coconut seller also found respite under the same shelter, and I quenched my thirst with the refreshing coconut water.
As we engaged in conversation, their tales of struggle and resilience during the trying times of the pandemic were a poignant reminder of how fortunate I was compared to many others. Santosh, the venerable Nooliya, earned his living by guiding visitors through the sea — shared the heartbreaking reality of two years. With over five decades of experience, he is a living legend of the sea, having witnessed both the perils and triumphs that come with it. His connection to the ocean runs deep — his aged and scrawny frame belies the wealth of wisdom he possesses. Despite the challenges of the pandemic, when the waves receded without visitors, Santosh remained resolute.
He asked me if I’d like to venture into the sea. Instead, I requested him if he could lend me the tube, and I’d gladly compensate him. My whimsical request amused Santosh. Concerned, he vehemently responded, “No, madam, it’s hazardous. It is high-tide time!” Undeterred by his cautionary words, I explained that the waves were unruly, so the tube would be my buoyant companion. He dutifully persisted, “Even the tube cannot save you when the high tide strikes. I’ll come with you.” My desire to go into the sea held a nostalgic and sentimental value — a pilgrimage meant to be a solitary exploration of my innermost emotions and memories. However, struggling to express this sentiment, I reassured him I’d not venture too far into the sea. I handed over the phone and suggested he capture a few photos to share with my son later, allowing him to participate in the experience in a different but meaningful way. He finally relented.
“The Ocean has its silent caves,
Deep, quiet, and alone;
Though there be fury on the waves,
Beneath them there is none.”— The Ocean, Nathaniel Hawthorne
I ventured into the sea with the massive tube. I danced with the sparkling waves — rising and falling with the rhythm. I became a fearless dancer, moving in sync with the untamed waves to their wild rhythm. The sun was casting its radiant spotlight on the grand spectacle.
Suddenly, a massive wave gushed from the depths, towering over me with a resounding roar as if applauding the audacity of those who dared to challenge its might! And then another, and another! The towering waves loomed above me like colossal giants. The sea stirred to life, its vibrant energy bouncing with each crashing wave. It had always been alive; one can truly grasp its power and presence when immersed within its depths.
I realized that even the most skilled swimmers would struggle against the mighty force of these waves. I remembered my father’s words of wisdom: “Respect the waves.”
With those words resonating, fear transformed into an electrifying sense of exhilaration. I surrendered myself to the dance of the waves, to their rhythmic twists and turns, their captivating rise and fall. With closed eyes, I savored the briny scent of the ocean, letting it fill my senses. I dove beneath the surface and emerged high again with the waves. Emerging from the depths, I felt a gush of euphoria, as if breaking free from the shackles of the ordinary — embracing the extraordinary. With each rise and fall, the waves mirrored the rhythm of our existence, reflecting the highs and lows we experience along our journey. The profound beauty of life lies not only in the calm but these thrilling encounters where vigor finds its footing. I felt a magical connection to the tube as if it had become an extension of my very being.
After a while, I sensed a surge of unknown energy pushing me forward, assuming it to be a powerful wave. Amidst the deafening roar of crashing waves, I heard a piercing scream cutting through the chaos. “Madam, you’ve come too far!” I opened my eyes; once within reach, the shoreline appeared distant and minuscule, reduced to a mere mirage against the vast expanse of the boundless ocean! I turned my head; it was Santosh, like the guiding hand of Poseidon, pushing my tube towards the safety of the shore.
As we reached the shore, Santosh had a smile on his face, amused by my daring escapade. I admitted that I didn’t realize how far I had floated. He shared stories of past accidents and stressed the need to be cautious. He had rushed to my aid when he almost lost sight of me. Pointing to the Jagannath Temple with its majestic Neela Chakra in the distance, he said, “Jagannath was watching as you fearlessly enjoyed the waves.” “Jai Jagannath!” he bawled. I echoed with joy!
Back at the humble shack, the coconut vendor clapped as if I had just emerged victorious on the grandest stage. It was a beautiful realization of how the unlikeliest individuals can become our biggest cheerleaders.
Santosh’s eyes shimmered with profound gratitude as I handed him the compensation, yet I knew that mere currency could never truly capture the depth of my appreciation. Santosh, unknowingly, had become the catalyst for my cherished childhood memories. Grateful, I left the shack, carrying the echoes of the sea and the warmth of Santosh’s kindness.
© Manali Mitra 2024. All Rights Reserved.
Beautiful story! I’m an ocean lover myself, but I’m not sure I would’ve ventured into such waves. I grew up by the sea, and had a special feeling for, and I live by the sea in America, but not as rough except for when there are storms. Maybe when I was younger I would have ventured in such waves.
beautiful thank you