The swamp formed the natural boundary between the Ritz Hotel and Stanes. Thickly covered with Arum lilies and tall grasses, it evoked a primeval fear in a lot of us. There were rumours of a cow that couldn't escape its inexorable pull and it was with great caution that we fished footballs and volleyballs out of its treacherous grasp. The swamp abounded with tadpoles, crabs and varieties of brilliant dragonflies. In later days someone introduced guppies into it. At its narrowest point, it became a clear stream that could be crossed with a little jump and that was our entry into the woods where we established camps by bending and intertwining acacia saplings. The swamp drained down into the Blue Hills compound but not before emptying some water into a little cement pond opposite the girls' hostel.
One day a new classmate arrived and during the break we took him down to the swamp to catch tadpoles. Introducing the swamp to him, we recounted some of its legends to his disbelieving ears. He could not understand how that seemingly solid patch of land in the middle could actually be sinking sand. Before we could convince him otherwise, he took a wonderful flying leap onto it and though we could appreciate a future long jumper in the making we feared for his immediate predicament. He sank straight up to his armpits and began frantically trashing around. It is wonderful to think how the mind immediately looks for avenues to shift the blame but in this case, luckily, there was no one to blame but the foolhardy boy. There was fear in his eyes as he somehow scrambled towards the opposite bank where he was helped out by others who forded the swamp at its narrowest point. He came out coated in slime and smelling like mouldering vegetation. He shuddered with the shock of it all. We helped him to the pond to wash a large part of the muck off and he got a fresh set of clothes from the boys' hostel.
Our respect for his guts was established but the swamp it was that showed us that all rumours were not untrue.
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5 comments:
Dear Vikram,
Your article on "The Swamp" is just superb...very well written, it brings back memories in vivid detail & colour. I was a few years your senior and in our times, we would rush to the swamp in the short break & lunch break.....to build tents from small branches, leaves and some plastic. It was a cosy hiding place....away from the world....and in our innocence then, it seemed to be a great achievement to build such a tent & owning it (to showoff to friends) was a rare privilege. My tent once broke off during the rains and it felt like the end of the world !
Keep writing the good stuff Vikram.....you're doing it very well !
Dear Vikram, Your love, respect and awe for nature shows in all of your work and writing. I share your fascination for myth and place and I love the way you bring to fore our relationships with the natural world, especially at a time when we seem to have forgotten the simple pleasures of just puddling through a pond or playing with mud. The tactile journeys with grass, earth and trees is so important to man.
Thank you Viduit and Suzi, the memories of life amidst nature can never be erased. Our childhood offered us so many avenues to explore and immerse ourselves in experiences so far away from children today. I miss those experiences intensely and wish to get back to that simpler and idyllic world.
Beautifully writen Vikram.. brought back good old childhood memories of Stanes.. gifted to have lived then ...
Thank you so much! I'd love to geet back.
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