The public pool - a waterbody separate from the main Lake, was ( and is ) quite large. It has on one corner, the Dhakuria corner, that is, the Anderson club, which I understand has been renamed as the Indian Life Saving Society. This club is a social and swimming club exclusively for members using part of the pool for its swimming needs. The rest was for us, the hoi polloi.
In summer, the pool used to be quite crowded. People of all ages could be seen there in the morning, some possibly for a dip but most for a swim. The front portion, quite a large portion ,was enclosed by railings, had waist deep water for learners and smaller kids.The rest was for swimmers and those who intended to swim.
The distinction is deliberately made. There were many accomplished swimmers who practised in the public pool. Some were participating in State or even National level competitions. On the other hand there were others like us who knew swimming but were untrained and untutored.What they did not lack was enthusiasm.
Soon, as the news spread of our morning venture, a few other boys of the para (locality) joined us. My younger brothers also did. It was quite a team, of fourteen - fifteen boys, all in their teens and of different ages , trudging along early in the morning to the Lakes to have a swim or learn how to.
Southern Avenue, the road we used to walk along, is one of the better roads in Kolkata both for pedestrians and vehicular traffic even today. Those days it was still better. The houses that lined the sides of the road were two or three storied, owned by single owners, each with a courtyard however small, with some flowering trees or plants and a car or two in the porch.The days of promoters and multistoried apartment blocks which line the road now on both sides , were yet far off. The pavements were wide and uncluttered. Though Southern Avenue does not seem to have been invaded by the army of hawkers even now, Kolkata streets were yet to come under their total dominance.The wide islands that separated the up and down roads for vehicles were well maintained and had always a splash of green on them. There were quite a number of trees which lined the roads on both sides - I suppose that is why it was named an Avenue in the first place.
I do not know whether Southern Avenue has been renamed. The renaming spree , of streets and roads, even of Calcutta to Kolkata, was yet to come. In the intervening years this seems to be one of the major achievemnts of successive municipalities in this State regardless of political affiliations.
This team of boys would walk every morning along the Southern Avenue to go for a swim. And walk back. There would be a lot of chit chat, cracking of jokes and pulling of each others legs.Time would really fly. We would see the morning sun rising from behind a distant rooftop reddish, golden in all its resplendence. We would see the roads being sprayed with water to clean them in the morning hours , a practice which gradually disappeared from Calcuta on its way to becoming Kolkata.
And the boys all learned swimming. None became an expert swimmer, but I am sure, they enjoyed the experience of those days and cherish it in their memory.
When winter came, most dropped off but the core group, the hardcore, so to say, continued.We would wake up when it was totally dark and set on our adventure at the crack of dawn as the veil of darkness slowly lifted.The water was cold, may not be icy cold, but bitterly so. We would oil our bodies quite lavishly with mustard oil, massage it well before entering the water. This reduced the feel of the cold. Such oiling would not be accepted in a proper swimming pool, but ours was like a natural waterbody - a large pond actually, though man made and the water plants that grew on its side and at its bottom and the rays of the sun, I suppose, protected it from any pollution.
On our way back, we would stop at a sweetmeat shop on the roadside near the Lake whenever someone had some money ( I rarely had any ) and buy some hot jelabis to share. ( I have continued to love the taste of jelabis and though I avoid sweets these days, I do take a jelabi or two from time to time. )
There were only a few swimmers in the Lake in the winter. Those who came were good swimmers, mostly practising for some competition of other. Most of my training was actually by watching them. I used to watch their arm and leg movements and imitate as far as possible. This improved my swimming skills. I was no longer a rustic as far as swimming was concerned but I always felt that I lacked the smooth and easy glide that many of them had. Nobody ever told me ( because I never had a trainer or a coach ) about streamlining the body, about the shoulder roll in freestyle, the high elbow catch and arm pull with a gap in your armpit or for that matter the nature of the flutter kick. These are things I learnt much later and would talk about in the next blog.
We saw for sometime Mihir Sen, the first Indian to cross the English Channel, practising. We also saw Kalyani Bose practise. Kalyani was the no 2 in West Bengal in the women's category.And we met Netai Pal, who soon became our Netai da. We used to notice this man practising his butterfly stroke for an hour or more. He would go around the whole pool, must be about five hundred meters , swimming butterfly in a slow and steady motion and then rest for a while to start afresh. His butterfly was a treat to watch. One day Netaida approached us himself. He was perhaps intrigued by these boys who braved the winter to come swimming in the lake. He was a number of years older than us, but quite easygoing and had no airs. We came to know that he was the reigning national champion in butterfly.
All these people who came to the lakes to swim on a regular basis were from middle class or in fact mostly, from lower middle class background. That very much included Netaida. I do not know where he got his first training, but when we met he was training himself or trying to improve his timing on his own. At the end of his session, he would take down an ounce or two of glucose which he carried in a piece paper rolled into a pouch. He would explain to us that it was to remove fatigue and revitalise him.
Looking back I feel athletes like Netaida never got the support that they deserved from the country. They did not have the training facilities or the nutritional support they needed nor could they afford these on their own.From the reports I see in the newspapers, it seems that the situation has not changed much.
Not that Netaida could have made it in the Olympics. Though he had wide shoulders, powerful arms and a strong build, his height at around five and half feet was a disadvantage. But with proper nutritional support, physical training and guidance of a good coach, he could surely give it a try. At least, that is what I believe.
Netaida wanted once to enter a team in a waterpolo competition. He chose a few of us. We had never played waterpolo before. But we practised under his guidance for a week or so. The time was really not sufficient to master the art of the game which apart from skill, needs a lot of stamina which you cannot develop overnight. So the inevitable happened. We lost miserably in the first round which was played in Hedua in north Calcutta.
I liked the butterfly stroke and used to try it out with a few tips from Netaida. Yes, I learned it to some extent but it remained an unfinished business, because slowly, as it always happens with me, my interest started shifting to another exciting sport - rowing. As we walked alongside the main lake, I would watch the rowers, whether in fours, or pairs or in a single scull and would be impressed by the rhythmic pull of the oars, the coordinated body movements of the rowers and the speedy glide of the narrow boats in the water. I thought this was it, for me. Speeding through the water in a scull alone, with the air brushing my face and body was suddenly an exhilarating idea.
There were a number of rowing clubs in the Lake - one of the few places where there was such an opportunity in the country. Fortunately there was the Calcutta University rowing club with a meagre subscription. I joined. I could persuade mother to give me the money required. As I became an avid rower, I dropped out of swimming and the team or whatever was left of it did so in no time.
I lost touch with Netaida and have no idea how far he went as a swimmer or what he became later but I do remember how beautifully he used to execute the butterfly stroke.
it is a pity that your grandson doesn't share your enthusiasm for swimming . He has vowed not to learn how to swim until he is as tall as his baiba.
ReplyDeleteDon't worry. He will.
ReplyDelete