Say Yes to Ocean!
Confessions of a Shy Scuba Diver
Some desires never die. They dwell in your heart, they dawdle in your dreams — but they never die…
I grew up in a small town in North India — amidst mountains, lakes, rivers and waterfalls. I was in love with water, ever ready to jump in, and my parents were constantly on their toes trying to save me from drowning. Fortunately, they let the love bloom by enrolling me in swimming classes.
It was the only swimming pool in town, and almost always, I’d be the only girl in the pool. Small town India of 80s was conservative in many ways. It was a big deal to be a swimmer, especially for a girl. I tried to convince my friends to join. But they neither shared my love for water nor were willing to adorn a swimsuit. Bare arms and legs weren’t part of our regular attire, a swimsuit was out of question. I would feel shy and awkward. I could hear the monster inside my head telling me to quit, to find another hobby, to never come back. But once I hit the water, it felt magical. Nothing seemed to matter — not the attire, not anyone’s gaze. The inner monsters be damned!
Knowing how to swim was a passport to another world. The ocean beckoned. Many years later, I did my first scuba dive in Hawaii. Those were the pre-Google days. Not much information about diving was available online. I had little idea what to expect that day…
“Going all by yourself, with strangers, carrying just a swimsuit and towel, without a cell phone, without any way of contacting anyone…you must be out of your mind. What’s this desperation to dive”, the monster inside spoke up. It was 5:30am. I was in the van sent by the dive centre to pick me from the hotel.
“I really want to dive. It’s a proper dive centre. I’ll be fine”, I retorted.
“Get out of the van now. You are not cut out for this. None of your family or friends even swim circle and you want to go dive, huh?”
“I’ll manage”, I shouted in my head, as the van moved and I let the monster’s voice drown in the sound of engine. Monsters be damned!
After a long drive, we reached a somewhat secluded place near the sea shore. It looked like a school building. I was shown the changing rooms and given a wetsuit. I had no idea how to get into that wetsuit! I was the only girl in the group and was too shy to ask. After a few minutes of trial and error, I managed to suit up. We were soon off to the dive site. The briefing session on the boat allayed my fears and I was eager to go underwater.
The forty minute dive was nothing short of magical. Yes, there were the usual struggles — breathing into the regulator, equalizing the pressure, tendency to float up. But the sights were mesmerizing. There were fish in colours that I didn’t think existed. And then a giant sea turtle showed up to float alongside — he was unbothered by my presence; I was smitten with his majesty. I remained under the spell of the underwater world on the ride back to shore and long after that…
If getting into wetsuit had been cumbersome, getting out of a tightly fitted, wet one after the dive, was a calamity. Back in the changing room, I wrestled and wriggled but it just wouldn’t come off. The monster surfaced again with an “I warned you. This isn’t your thing”. I was frantic! The wetsuit seemed pasted to my arms and legs. Just then, as though godsent, another girl walked in. She saw that I needed help. I must have looked like a revolving door — you can’t figure out whether it is going in or out. She had to ask me whether I was trying to get into the wetsuit or take it off!
Many years passed before I could go for the next dive. By then Google was officially a word in the dictionary. It showed that diving was possible in India!And that Havelock Island was among the most beautiful diving destinations in the world. I booked a vacation to the Andamans, eager to dive again.
As usual, I was the only one in the family going for the dive. So while others slept blissfully, I headed to the dive centre early in the morning. Again, I was the only woman there. I could feel that familiar awkwardness coming back. The monsters were at it again…but I was wiser this time — about diving, equalizing and wearing the wetsuit!
The dingy boat made its way to the dive site which was about thirty minutes away. I looked at my right towards the shore getting farther away. And then to my left, at a bunch of semi-clad strangers in the boat.
“Shoot!!! What the heck are you doing on this boat”, the monster inside roared. “This is India. What’s the promise of safety. If something were to happen, even your body will not be found. Who are these people? Are they even trained? Why do you have to scuba dive? Find something safer, simpler. Stay on the land. Go back.” The monster was on a roll, unstoppable.
“It’s a registered dive centre. They must be trained divers. I have read the reviews.” I tried to feel brave.
“Internet Reviews?! Do they even mean anything.”
“It’s just a dive. I’ll be fine. They have a reputation to protect.”
“What reputation? You forgot what they said in this country when a woman got killed because she was late while going back from work — ‘Women should not be so adventurous’. Staying late to work was not adventurous. This is! Sitting in this stupid wetsuit, miles away from the shore, in a boat with strangers, at 7am. You are so dead, maybe worse than that”.
I smiled nervously to hide my fear.
“Stop smiling with strangers. Go back”, the monster mocked.
The speed at which the inner monster can ramble on, highlighting every unpleasant incident from the past to forecast an impending disaster, is just unbelievable. I tried to have a real conversation, outside my mind, desperate to make it shut up. I thought I was going to have a panic attack even before I hit the water. It wasn’t the dive or the ocean or the underwater creatures that felt scary. It was the run-up to it — the boat journey, the trusting the strangers part that almost killed me.
Soon the briefing started, and the monster retreated. I had to do my first back roll and was excited. Monsters be damned!
Hawaii was fabulous, but Havelock was heavenly. Schools of fish in myriad colours danced around in synchronized symphonies. Nemo snuck in and out of his home. Oh the feeling was to die for! So much beauty, the magnificence of nature — it was an overwhelming experience. By the time I surfaced, I knew I was never going to give up diving.
Nowadays, there are websites that offer detailed reviews and a whole lot of information about diving, dive centres and even individual dive instructors at those centres. India has some of the best diving locations in the world. None of my family or friends share my love for scuba diving. So I end up travelling solo. I do the usual diligence before finalising the dive centre and then…let it be. You got to be cautious but also willing to be a little vulnerable, a little more trusting of those around you.
If solo travel puts you out of your comfort zone, a solo dive trip can push you to the extreme. It is a roller coaster ride of fear and fun. The best part is that you experience awe — raw and pure.
I am now a Certified Diver and have dived in exotic locations across the world. The monsters still show up. But I have gotten better at handling them. I have to…Because diving fills my life with awe, it’s my little piece of heaven.
When we dive, we are as present as can be, one breath at a time. All we can hear is our breathing. Every breath is like a blessing, every movement is magical. The buoyancy depends on breath, bottom time depends on breath. There is no hurrying, no chasing an elusive milestone — everything is perfect as it is. It is a liberating experience, a sojourn into another world where the magnanimity of nature humbles you.
In the depths of the ocean, despite being so small in that vastness, I feel enough as I am.
“There I feel that nothing can befall me in life — no disgrace, no calamity, which nature cannot repair” — Emerson
Diving makes me return to faith and trust when I become cynical about life and people. For the control freak and perfectionist in me, it is a tall order to rely on a gas tank and a dive buddy, 100ft under water. But I have learnt over time that dependable friends are often disguised as petrifying strangers. That it is possible to feel at ease in unknown surroundings, more than you would have ever felt with formally attired, familiar faces in known environs. Some of the dive masters I have met are living proof of what it means to love your job — they go all out to ensure that people on their watch have the best dive experience.
In a country where a woman getting home late from work can get dubbed as adventurous, it is somewhat a battle of nerves to go for a solo adventure in the ocean. The inner monster is rarely quiet — “You can’t do this”, “You can’t be that”…the repertoire of fears can be unending. But when the ocean beckons, there’s no stopping. One reason can stand up to a million excuses. Monsters be damned!
Think of the things you would do even if you got no money, no fame, no “likes” for doing it. Things you would do even if no one knew what you were doing, the things that make you come alive and ignore all the inner monsters. Those are life’s most special gifts. Embrace that special something that fills your life with awe. Say Yes to Magic.
