It’s been a decade since..

September 2015, Lagos, Portugal

We are sitting on a beach. It’s a sunny day, with the occasional gust of wind feeling pleasant on our faces. The water is calm. The three of us are just happy to relax after a long drive from Seville the day before. The beach is sparsely populated, there are a few couples minding their own business but that’s about it.

Our view of the Atlantic is blocked by what appears to be a cave-like structure about 100 yards away in the bay. We see some guys standing in those caves taking pictures. N nudges K, asks him if we wants to head over to the cave. He obliges, but mentions he is not a great swimmer. N reassures him that the water is very calm and doesn’t look deep. K asks me to join as well. At that point in my life I usually never said no to anything, and this did appear easy. I am a novice swimmer, but I imagine I am at least as good as K. Anyhow, we have N with us, and she is a champion swimmer.

N leads the way, half-swimming half wading. K is right behind her, and I am next to him. We are half-way in when the wind picks up, the water level rises suddenly, and I look at K and he is five yards away, holding on to N as she has switched to strong strokes. I try to make the switch too, put in a few strokes and try to catch up to them. I am struggling but I still think I can make it.

After a couple of minutes my breath gives way, I have to come up for air, but as soon as I do water rushes over me and into my mouth. I spit it out but now I am in a disarray, the current is too strong and panic takes over me. I try to wave at K and N, but they are far ahead and have almost reached the cave. Horror rushes through my brain, for a brief minute I think about how this will be communicated to my parents. Arms waving for a last few seconds, I give in and go underwater.

I have often thought about those few seconds. What went inside my mind. I hope that the passage of time has not corrupted my memory, but what I do recall today is the feeling of giving up, of making my peace with that being the end of my life. I quit thrashing about, closed my eyes, and waited for the inevitable.

After what felt like an eternity but what was in reality not more than a couple of minutes, I felt a strong thrust from below me. I was flung up above the water level and air entered my lungs. My eyes opened and I saw N, who somehow had realized I had not made it, jumped back into the water and rescued me. She put my arms around her back and after a few moments, I found myself climbing the wall of the cave. K was waiting here, and as I sputtered out water he looked at me with the most surreal expression.

Till date, this is my closest encounter with the Grim Reaper. I don’t think I ever thanked N for that day, to say thanks for an incident like this didn’t really seem appropriate. We didn’t talk much about it either, except K told me a few moments later that it was just as well that I made it, because he had no idea how to communicate something like this to my parents.