“I really wish I could swim like you,” Rahul said.

“Why didn’t you learn swimming?” asked Neeraj.

“My parents won’t allow me.”

“Why?”

“Apparently, I have a birthmark on my back, shaped like a whirlpool. According to them, it indicates that water is not safe for me.”

By the river

Twelve-year-old Rahul had come to spend his summer holidays with his cousin Neeraj, who was the same age and lived on the outskirts of Rourkela.

On the first day, Neeraj had taken him to the River Brahmani. While Rahul sat under a tree on the bank, Neeraj swam for a while.

“If you want, I can teach you,” Neeraj offered.

“No, no. All this talk about the birthmark has made me too nervous. I don’t have the guts to get into the water.”

“I come here every morning. I was hoping you would join me.”

“Neeraj, I love painting. This place is so beautiful. I would love to come with you and capture Nature in all its glory.”

The next morning, while Neeraj swam, Rahul set up his stand, fixed a canvas sheet, and began to draw.

The scene was picture-postcard perfect: the azure sky, the shimmering blue waters, the stretch of golden sand, and the canopy of green in the background.

It took the young artist four sessions to complete his painting. Only after he had finished did Rahul allow Neeraj to have a look.

“Wow, bro! This is absolutely brilliant! You sure are talented!”

Rahul smiled. “Not as talented as you. I have been watching you very keenly, Neeraj. Every stroke you take is art, far more beautiful than anything I could create on my canvas.”

A new adventure

“Rahul, today let’s go fishing. I am sure it is something you have never experienced.”

Half an hour later, they were at the Brahmani with their fishing gear. Neeraj pointed to a rock about 20 metres from the bank. “That’s a perfect spot.”

“But the water must be quite deep there. How will I go?”

“There is a cluster of small rocks leading to it. Just hold my hand and follow me.”

Rahul hesitated, then held his cousin’s arm. Slowly and carefully, they made their way across and climbed onto the rock.

Neeraj attached the bait to the hook and cast it into the water. A few moments later, he stepped down from the rock into the water and turned to Rahul.

“Come, stand here with me.”

Rahul followed his gaze and stiffened. “There? It looks deep.”

“See, it barely reaches my chest, about four feet at the most.”

Rahul hesitated. The familiar fear rose within him.

“Come on,” Neeraj said, extending his hand. “I’m right here. Nothing will happen. Manas is just behind you.”

Rahul glanced back. Manas, who worked as a gardener in his uncle’s house, nodded reassuringly.

Reluctantly, Rahul stepped down, clutching Neeraj’s arm. He stood still, his breath shaky.

“Relax,” Neeraj said gently. “You’re safe.”

For a few moments, Rahul simply stood there, trying to steady himself.

“You have been watching me swim every day,” Neeraj continued, his voice calm but firm. “Your body has already picked up far more than you think. Just trust it.”

Rahul shook his head. “I can’t.”

Before he could say anything more, Neeraj loosened his grip and moved a few steps away.

Panic surged through Rahul. He began flailing his arms and legs wildly, his breath coming in short, frightened bursts.

“Rahul! Don’t fight the water. Move like I do!”

The words reached him faintly. For a fleeting instant, images of Neeraj swimming, effortless, graceful, almost artistic, flashed through Rahul’s mind.

Something shifted. He forced his arms to move, not wildly now, but with a hesitant rhythm he had watched so often. His legs followed as one stroke became another, and slowly the panic began to recede.

He wasn’t drowning. Slowly, uncertainly, he was moving. After what felt like an eternity, his feet finally touched the riverbed. Strong hands reached out and guided him towards the shore.

Rahul collapsed on the sand, his chest heaving. A few minutes later, he opened his eyes. Neeraj was standing there, and beside him was Manas.

“Neeraj, how could you do this to me? I thought I would die!” Rahul’s face was red with anger.

“No, bro,” Neeraj said quietly. “Like I told you, the water is around four feet deep. Manas too was there in case of any emergency.”

Rahul shook his head. “I don’t agree. It was too big a risk to take.”

“You know, Rahul, my dad says the only way to overcome fear is by confronting it, not shying away. You had to get into the water to fight your fear.

Rahul did not reply. His breathing slowly steadied.

“You reached the shore not on foot,” Neeraj added, “but by swimming, on your own. With a little guidance, you will become a fine swimmer.”

Developing a skill

Rahul stayed with Neeraj for two more weeks. Every day, they came to the river and swam for an hour. Neeraj taught his cousin the nuances of the life skill with patience. Rahul was a slow learner, but a committed one. By the time he left, he had become quite competent.

“Bro, I am your guru now. Don’t you think I have the right to demand guru dakshina?”

“Of course!”

“Well, you learnt the science of swimming from me. Next time when you come, you must teach me the art of painting.”

“I would love to, Neeraj,” Rahul replied, and the two cousins high-fived.