Blessed

She would rise much before dawn and head to the beach. Every day. Come hail or storm or just another beautiful day. Here she met her friends, other women from the village, clad in their saris tucked up high and clutching their most precious sea goggles.

Together they pushed their trusted wooden boats into the arms of their saviour, their protector, their all in all, the vast sea! But first  they would perform a small puja, just to please the Gods and Goddesses, to bring them back safe.

Velamma was just like the rest of them in this quaint village. They had taken on the responsibility to dive into the sea to gather sea weeds, oysters, sea cucumbers, sea anemones and anything else that the sea would offer them. The men would just go fishing. They could not last as long as the women, underwater without getting hypothermia.

It was a difficult life but they had no choice. It was a matter of life and survival. The children were left on their own, the elder ones in charge of the younger ones. They went to the school of life…. No holidays, no vacations.

As the women rowed to their destination somewhere in the high seas, the skies in the east were turning a delicate pink as the Sun God seemed to promise a good day. Securing their equipment – their glasses- firmly in place, they just leaped into the waves gently lapping their boats.

It was a beautiful sight that greeted them. The sea grasses and weeds waved with the continuous movements of the ocean, more like a graceful dance and the vibrant coral, orange, red, purple, green. But the dead ones gleamed a shiny white, like ghosts.

In and out swam varied shoals of fish, some brilliantly coloured, some tiny and almost invisible, then there were the octopuses, sharks, sting rays and such. Velamma would always spend a moment or two absorbing the lot, as she did not want to get cut by the corals or be attacked by any of the lot which could harm her lethally. She liked to tell the stories to her children and also inspire them to dive down with her when they came of age.

She spotted some cray fish, oysters and the much in demand seaweed. A couple of dives worth of work today. Ah that meant food for her family! She saw Lakshmi and the others had also got busy filling up their sacs.

These women were not like their Japanese Ama sisters, who would specifically dive to get pearl filled oysters. Life across the oceans was tough for them all. Quickly they set to work, gathering what was required, what was useful, at the same time keeping their third eye alert for any dangers lurking far or near. Cuts, bruises, nips were part of life.

Soon they surfaced tugging their heavy booty. And dumping them into their boat as they slowly exhaled their signature whistles. The men would know they were done and going back. The sun was up by now, blazing in full glory on their darkened skin and roughened hair. They broke out into their favourite song , a prayer to the Sea God for taking them back alive.

‘Hope they get a big catch today!’

“ You are the biggest catch for that worthless husband of yours!”

‘Ha ha ha!’

“A woman doesn’t have much choice, does she?”

‘Any fish will do! Right Akka?’

“Hmmm” said Velamma. She wanted the best for her daughter. She dreamed of education, a good job, respect in society and what not. Her daughter all of 12, had recently told her of a swimming competition in Vishakapatnam. She had heard of it on the radio. She wanted to participate in it. She was a strong swimmer. Inherited her mother’s lungs and powerful limbs. It seemed to be an opportunity. If nothing the girl could travel and see some place beyond their village.

On the day of the competition Sharada was astounded by the small swimming pool, compared to the vast ocean she swam in every day. The water was placid without a single ripple, no waves, no breakers. OK! As the whistle was blown and the participants leapt into the water, there was no doubt who was the clear winner with her powerful clean strokes and strong kicks. Velamma’s eyes streamed with joy as the spectators all around the stadium broke into a standing ovation, for this girl from some remote village.

Although they did feel a little like fish out of water, the organizers and some other parents were very kind and helpful. As she stood on the dais, clutching her prize, wearing her medal, the photographers and reporters went berserk…. a perfect catch for the news!

Things were getting better… a gentleman walked upto them along with the chairman of the organizing committee and said  “I am from the Phelps foundation here to offer Sharada a scholarship!”