“I held his hand for a few seconds but the waves pulled him inside”, says Siddharth Patil, a lifeguard at Mumbai’s Aksa Beach at Mudh Island, where Supujan Radhesyam Soni (age:14)  lost his life while swimming in high tide waves at around 1 p.m. on Sunday, April 26.

Siddharth was tired and angry after his attempt. “I had warned them twice to not go into the water but people here are like animals; they don’t pay any heed to safety.” Siddharth claims that this is the first drowning in six months at the beach that is known for death by drowning.

The seniormost lifeguard at the beach echoes Siddharth’s views. “They have no value for life. We plead and beg the people to stay away from water but you can see that they come in hundreds and defy every advice”, says Rajanikant S Mashelkar, who is in his eleventh year of duty at Aksa.

“It is easy to blame the lifeguards. You can see for your self the sensitivity of these people. They are in the water again”, says Rajanikant referring to the beach goers who were in the water five minutes after the drowning.

Siddharth seems appalled by this attitude. “Many of them pick fights with me when I stop them. They say that it doesn’t matter to them that other people die. And then we are blamed for ineffectiveness”.

The three kilometre stretch of the beach is patrolled by three lifeguards at any given time. “I have two swimmers in the morning and three in the evening”, says Rajanikant as he runs to shout at some boys who have gone deep into the water.

Aksa has no boat facility for rescue operations. This writer found five life jackets in the lifeguard’s cabin.

“There was no time to go for the lifejacket”, says a local sandwich-seller who has seen some drownings in the past. He continues, “The lifeguards may be ill-equipped, but larger part of the blame goes to the people who don’t listen to any warning given to them by the Police and the lifeguards.”

In some time two police constables arrived but they are unable to move everybody out of water. Finally, Rajanikant picks up the clothes and valuables littered on the beach. And then some people come out of the water. “It’s a tried and tested technique, sir”.

Also published in DNA (Link)

On entering the beach: The Spectators

The lifeguard comes back but without the boy

Tried but couldn't save the boy

The senior lifeguard at Aksa Beach

Five minutes after the drowning, people are back in the water

The senior Lifeguard tells the people to move out of water.

The drowning doesn't have much effect on people. "Many of them pick fights with me when I stop them. They say that it doesn't matter to them that other people die".

The constables show the stick and people begin to move

Some people come out of water only when he takes their clothes and valuables

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When I am drenched
And the heart feels aloof
Absent to the constant pain

Let me drown, that moment
And not think again
Or doubt
The profundity of my talents

In killing I have taken a decision. Undeterred by humanity. Or the countless million voices that reason with reason. I belong to myself, a complete, I am. In me lies the final pang of life; in me lies the strength to reach out to the shore.

I am the anti-artistic vision that permeates homes and valleys; an antonym to young dreams of valour. But valour is viscous; it rides to impress multitudes. I am, the multitude.

In water I think of green grass, its blades curvaceous, and appalling, to the vanity of a woman. I have made love to grass and joyfully partaken, Her hungry glance. My lover, with its plentiful deaths, and rebirths, is more alluring than the fickle sounds of human love.

Am I, a synopsis of my life, or am I, a harbinger of change? I dipped into my well and drew a map they call art, I was, reminded, of art’s affiliation to the depth of colours, amassed, by mankind. Like my head that dips into water, my colours faded in the archetype of human emotions.

But I am fadeless. I possess, the qualities of my skin; my liver breathes life into me, alone. And the bubbles in water, come from within me. They are, perhaps, my last mercurial creations.

It had thus been decided, to impose upon the human, institutions of fear, of control. And the artist, born to be free, to leap, and choose, the colour of his self, was clad in white and his body, his soul, defined. He leapt within the definition and proclaimed his freedom, his soul, as supreme.

When I am one with water, and I seep into soil, and blossom as flower, I shall reign supreme, over vitrified walls, and yet, not reign, not repeat the invented human folly.

My head hits the water bed and with me ends the philosophy of work, of talent, that is unrivalled in thought and shape. And that bowed to none. I see the last shards of sunlight and onto my skin, a fish nibbles me slowly.

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Kartikey Sehgal

Illustration: Kartikey Sehgal

I cannot accept the mirth of trivialities. Of a living below life. I’d rather joke with the honest labourer whose design on the wet brick is hardened by the sun; harmony between nature and men.

But I am given, and society has ordained, the acceptance of rooms without sunlight, precision defined within dark windows and glass doors. And I must accept this common code of subsistence and forgo my living. Non-acceptance could be a fodder for future regrets.

Society, reminds you,
you will shudder, without society.
But,
I cannot accept the fear of regret. Of a living below life. I’d rather soak the sun while it awaits me on green meadows. The flowers grown by the gardener; harmony between nature and men.

Often, it is simple, to romanticize. To think about harmony between nature and men. But the singular will wades through the collective of half-lives; the lively dolphin is placated by the sleeping fishes.

And if not romanticize, not think of the garden, the brick and the sun, will I not assume the role of the half-life? Of triviality?
But,
I cannot accept the mirth of trivialities. And I shall think.

Think. Think. And think about the garden and about going there. How long shall I think?

It is now that the lure of death appeals. A peaceful body, lying in the green meadows, soaking the sun, attended by the worthy gardener and the mirthful labourer. 

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Shaival Thakkar writes from Ahmedabad about the restaurant that is built around graves

All of us will die one day and we cannot escape death. However, life would be difficult if we constantly thought about our mortality Most of us

keep away from thoughts of death by involving ourselves in different pursuits. But what if we are told that it is not only possible to live with such morbid thoughts but also to eat with them? Many brains have speculated about what happens after death. But has anyone come across a quotable quote that says, “After death, there comes a restaurant!”

Since approximately 250 years, there exists a graveyard in the Lal Darwaja area of Ahmedabad city. Then one day, about 53 years from today, someone started a tea-stall right next to this burial ground. Varnaraj Nair, the manager of Lucky Restaurant, explains, “Lucky started as a small place. When we wanted to expand, the government asked us to take up the responsibility of maintaining the cemetery.”
So we have this popular restaurant built around graves.

There are at least 22 bright green coloured tombs of various shapes and sizes in this restaurant. Trunks of trees shoot right out of the ceiling; one in the dining hall and the other inside the kitchen.

“Lucky was only famous for its chai. The first chai from Lucky cost 30 paisa and now it costs 6 Rs. People burn petrol worth 20 Rs just to come here and have chai.” says Nair.

Lucky offers a variety of foods including Punjabi, South Indian and the popular Gujarati Thali. It is known for its food quality and is considered affordable as all food items are priced between 10 and 50 Rs. “People were afraid to enter Lucky and eat next to the graves. We convinced them with our good cleanliness standards and our tasty meals.” says Nair.

The name Lucky is a favourite with many food stalls. Three sandwich stalls in the Law Garden area of Ahmedabad are called Lucky. And they are all parked right next to each other. Perhaps, the idea is that if you fail to notice the main Lucky, you can always eat at the smaller ones. But mind you, they don’t contain any graves.

Whenever I go to this restaurant, I feel as if the place is giving me an implicit message. Maybe, it is telling me that I am very lucky to be alive, relishing good food and having nice conversations. And also that I should have as many good times as possible before they build a restaurant around my grave.

This is my philosophical interpretation.

I like Mr.Nair’s interpretation much better. He says, “Here, you can sit and relax. Lucky is a top meeting point.”

Photographs: Yash Thakkar

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