When hydrophobics go snorkelling

I suffer from hydrophobia. Don’t know how to swim and have never been into water. The few times I've been near the sea, I’ve shown it immense respect. I appreciate the waves, the colours and the sheer expanse of water from a healthy distance. At most I've gingerly put my feet into crashing waves and felt the ripples. I've felt its raw power, more from a boat rolling on its surface. But in my heart of hearts I’ve always wished to overcome this fear. I've marvelled at swimmers and divers. If other people can do it why can’t you, my inner voice often mocked me.
It was this self doubt that pushed me into attempting snorkelling in Havelock Island in the Andamans last winter. Egged on by the kids and friends who are pros at the sport, I mustered enough courage to enrol for a snorkelling session one morning. We were introduced to our coach Kaustuv- a tanned Mumbaikar with a fake accent. Can you swim? he asked.
No.
Dont worry. Can you float?
No.
He paused and gave me a look.
Have you been in water before?
Never, I said. I swear he murmured something unprintable.
My heart sank.
He then took us to the supply corner at his beach gear shop and gave us life jackets, flippers, masks and tubes with mouth pieces that looked like plastic dentures. I could sense a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach but I didn’t show it.
The sea's very choppy today- bad weather- declared the shop owner. Nine of us (all tourists) were piled on to a boat with Kaustuv and another rickety teenager as our guides and the boatman started the motor as we set out to the sea. Within minutes spray from the ocean drenched us from head to toe. The salty water stung my eyes and the spray chilled me to the bone. The howling wind prevented anyone from being heard. I looked around to see the others calmly sitting and looking out into the distance. Feeling foolish I decided to do the same.
After about ten minutes Kaustuv declared the sea was too rough to venture to the point where we were heading. I felt vindicated. We turned back and headed for a nearer island this time. The sea was calmer on this route because the spray disappeared and the boat didn’t roll as much as before. As the water dried from my clothes I noticed the specks of salt it had left behind. Well, I had something to show for my bravery!
We neared one of the many islands and moored the boat. Everyone hopped out and i followed like a copy cat and almost sprained my foot because i miscalculated the depth of the water and landed on a rock. Four tourists amongst us were apparently seasoned divers and they disappeared within minutes of landing ashore. ‘Be back in two hours!’ yelled Kaustuv. Two hours? I began to taste fear in my mouth. I was rocking in the waves, standing waist down in water, barely holding on thanks to the float.
Kaustuv rounded the remaining five of us- a young Australian couple and the kids and me. He fixed our goggles and my nose was clipped off. The bit went into the mouth and then he held our hands and took us further into the water. I felt like i was being lead into a watery grave. Every time a wave hit me i almost overturned. The sea was like a massive quick sand. If you have hydrophobia your biggest fear is dipping your head in water. Try teaching a smart alecky ‘trainer’ that! He held both my hands and said- follow me. Then he went face down into the water. To be honest, i tried. I brought my head to the surface and went in six inches. It was like looking into an aquarium. Light was diffused as if i was looking through a glass wall. Schools of fishes were darting about. But it was the sudden silence that upset me. I panicked and shot up. To be fair to Kaustuv, he tried again. And again. But i only managed to stay a few seconds each time. And the third time i only heard the sound of my heart beat and the blood rushing through my ears. By this time the others were getting impatient. I decided to save them the misery. I knew i couldn’t go through with it. They say it is wise to choose your moment of retreat.
You guys go ahead. I’ll wade around here, I told the kids and told Kaustuv to attend to them. Within minutes the others left as if they couldn’t get away fast enough. I saw their bobbing heads disappear down the bend and suddenly i found myself alone with a rough sea, an empty boat and a vast endless sky.
I sat on a rock and the thought struck me that I looked quite comical. The orange lifebuoy was around my waist; the snorkelling equipment had been pushed to the top of my head; shorts and tee had been soaked to the skin. Not that it mattered. But what the hell would i do for two hours?
Dont laugh. I managed to keep myself pleasantly occupied. I poured my heart out to the sea. I raved, i ranted, i laughed. I recited poems and sang songs to the fishes that nibbled my feet. The waves took my secret in their bosom and swept it away. I suppose it felt like being in a confession box. I was quite thrilled. The failure at snorkelling was almost forgotten. The embarrassment gone. Almost.
Then i heard a shout from behind and jumped out of my skin.
‘Boat mein baith jayiye. Kinare mein saanp aa sakte hain.’
It was the boatman. He’d been sitting behind a rock all this while...