Dive, my love

I’m not a big fan of water- especially the salty, non-drinkable kind that makes up most of the earth for no good reason. All bodies of water scare me. I don’t like animals either. Or sea creatures. Or honestly anything that breathes or has a PAN card. I like nature from a hotel window, preferably with room service. So during our Australia trip, when we planned a detour to Cairns, home to the Great Barrier Reef, I was not thrilled. It felt like I was voluntarily walking into a Percy Jackson book I had no business being in.

We reached our hotel, and I went straight to the concierge- a very fit 60-year-old man who looked like he could wrestle a crocodile while watching Sonu ke titu ki sweety ki beti and still come out alive. I asked him about the best guided reef tour, repeating “guided” like it was a prayer. He very politely said, “If you’re not comfortable in the ocean, please don’t go.”

Excuse me, sir. That’s not how tourism works. Someone must hold my hand and show me fish. I don't care how stupid I may look. Like my third-grade teacher who once caught me pooping outside class while digging my nose, famously said: I am shameless.

Over the next two days, while we were checking out waterfalls and pretending to like trees, I was basically interviewing strangers about the Reef. A couple in their 60s said they did the dive twice. Impressive. Must be guided, I presumed. Then they said they’re certified divers. What do these old white people eat that our old people are not eating? What chwayanprash is this?

One guy in his twenties said he stayed in the water for three minutes before coming out. I did some back-of-the-envelope math and realised the per-minute cost was criminal. My inner miser declared: minimum 15 minutes or we walk.

Finally the day arrived… I went. The tour we found indeed was guided and a man held my hand for an hour while showing me corals. It was a very romantic moment. I would have kissed him if it weren't for the stupid masks that were keeping us alive. Within seconds, I was swimming next to a bigass turtle. A real one. Just at one arm distance. I followed it from the ocean floor to the surface, watched it breathe like a wise old baba and then go back again to its spot. Breathing and lying down. Such a simple activity that I do daily but yet majestic. I saw schools of fish of all varieties, some schools were so huge they felt like colleges. Ew joke. And corals. Blue, green, purple, yellow, orange, magenta and some colours that I had not even seen.

It was stunning. So stunning that if I see that again, I might dive right in- no gear, no certification, just delusion. Love you Poseidon.

Post the experience, I promised myself I’d get certified. Apparently that’s a common thing people do after seeing the Reef. It's like a spiritual awakening, but moist.

Even after writing all this, I can't quite actually describe the experience. I miss the feeling of having felt that feeling.