Different Strokes

I learnt to swim when I was around eleven.

There was no swimming pool near the place we lived in Kalighat. Nearest was the Dhakuria Lakes almost four kilometers away where apart from a swimming club,there was a public pool.It was too far for me at that time. So,the only option was the Adi Ganga which flowed by the famous Kali Temple nearby. It was within easy walking distance from our home.

Adi Ganga is an offshoot of the the river Ganges ( Ganga, the sacred river of the Hindus ), but is known to be the original channel through which the river flowed about four centuries back. Consequent to an earthquake or some such natural catastrophe, Ganga changed her course leaving this channel emaciated and depleted of the vigour of the mighty river. But it still had high tides and low tides, and though at low tide, the water went down to knee level or slightly more at some places, at high tide, it was still imposing and had strong currents. The river water was muddy at high tide and carcasses flowed at times, but it was not as dirty and polluted as it is now.

Hindus revere their river Ganga, it is Ma( mother ) Ganga to them,but they have no qualms about doing their morning ablutions on the river bank or throwing refuse or garbage into the water. It has been used as a sewage canal for such a long time and absorbed so much effluents, that the water today is almost blackish. To top it, the power that be keeps the sluice gates that joins it with the main river closed most of the time during the year, so the river has practically become a long stretch of stagnant water.

Fifty five years ago, it was not so bad. Or if it was, my eyes were too fresh and naive to detect it.

So, it had to be the Ganges for me to learn swimming. But the Ganges at high tide could be treacherous.Every year one heard of one or two cases of drowning- mostly of young boys.One of my cousins, two years older, had drowned a few years back. My father, a stern disciplinarian, would never allow it. Nor would any of the elders in the house. So I approached Shibuda (da- a honorific for an older person,like an elder brother ) who lived next door and was a friend of one of my elder brothers. Shibuda was like a friend to all of us young boys in the locality and ready to spend time with us. He agreed to take me along and help me learn to swim. All in secrecy.

This urge to learn swimming was part of the overall urges that I felt as a young boy to learn so many things, but it was special for some other reason.We are many brothers. All my elder brothers,my elder sister,even my mother knew swimming. They all learnt it when very young in village ponds before we came to Calcutta.Our ancestral home was in East Bengal, now Bangladesh - a land of rivers and water bodies where children were taught swimming very early in their life, at least in those days.Even my Dadamoni, my immediate elder, a little over two years senior knew how to swim. This last one used to irk me most. Dadmoni and I played all games together,we used to have common friends in our childhood and we fought a lot too.There was a lot of love and competition in our relationship as kids. And here was something he could do and I could not.I needed to change that badly.

Adi Ganga it was.Everyday, I would go through the newspaper to check the tide timings and Shibuda would decide on the appropriate time to go for a swim lesson.With a shorts for a change I would sneak out and with Shibuda and a few other boys who all knew swimming, would walk across to the Ghat - the steps built for devotees to go for a holy dip in the Ganges before they visit the temple.In a short time, I learnt to float and splash around with Shibuda's help . First round over, but my swimming saga would continue.

It may not be totally out of place to record how I learnt cycling about the same time. This also had to be done in secrecy, because our father always felt it was too dangerous to cycle in Calcutta and would never have allowed.

Our family's first stop after partition of India and Bengal was Basirhat a small town those days. Father was the super of the AG hospital there.He bought a Raleigh cycle and would go to the hospital or for other visits on it. Sometimes,he would seat both Dadamoni and me on that cycle and walk with it to the SDO's bungalow for a game of tennis.We used to look foward to these visits and used to look longingly at that brand new gleaming cycle. Dadamoni and I thought that one day we will ride that cycle.

Shortly afterwards,it was I suppose early 1949, we came to Calcutta and to our utter disappointment, Baba sold the cycle. He said Calcutta was not a place for cycles.

So, in this venture Dadamoni and I were together. Those days you could get small cycles on hire, possibly four annas (one fourth of a rupee) an hour. I don't remember how we used to manage that four annas (we were not given any allowance, children our age were not supposed to have any money and the school we both went to provided tiffin. So, there was no tiffin allowance to save from either ), but we did and hired the cycle whenever the money could be managed. One of us would ride the cycle and the other held it from behind. Calcutta had far fewer cars those days.Only an occassional car would ply on Sadananda road which has heavy traffic these days. And since there was only an wooden bridge connecting Chetla,( the pucca bridge came much later ) there was no traffic on that stretch of Rashbehari avenue. We did not have to fear much from a passing car.

We learnt cycling soon enough, though it involved some scratches here and there from occassional fall on the metalled roads. Later, it was Shibuda again for help and encouragement. He had a cycle and never said no when we asked for it for a spin. Even though those days my feet could hardly touch the pedals of the standard size cycle, I would borrow his often to move around. It felt great.

Shibuda had a lot to contribute to that feeling.