Looking down and looking back....

I was looking down at the water. It was greeeeen. In the deep end of a pool, the water is always green, never blue. Maybe it has something to do with the chlorine or the depth. I didn't know and I really couldn't care less. My coach was tapping my pink toes impatiently from the side of the pool- he hated it when people loitered around the edge.

I bent over, and I could smell the chlorine. I loved it. I felt afraid, but I was also excited. I couldn't see the bottom, just 12 feet of green, green water. I tried to think of what I had learnt in my swimming sessions- but all we had done so far was bobbing in the water and leg kicks. And now, on the third day, the coach wanted me to jump off the deep end.

"Jump, Maithri!" He yelled, pulling on my toes. "Do you want someone to push you?"

I took a deep breath. No thoughts. Blank mind.

And jumped.

I was six.

Seventeen years later, I was again at the edge of the pool, looking down. The same pool, the same green water. Instead of my coach, it was my friend in the water. He had convinced me to try to dive. I had never learnt how to do that. I loved jumping so much, I was always busy ricocheting off the deep end before someone could get me in position to dive. I don't know how many times I have run and jumped into water. 12 feet, 15 feet, heck 25 feet and I would jump. Never afraid. But now, some seven years after I had last jumped into a pool, things were different.

There was no one else in the pool- the reason why I had built up enough courage to get out and actually stand on the edge. My friend was hanging off the side, encouraging me.

I looked down at the water. I felt the same fear as I had seventeen years earlier.

"Maithri, jump!" My friend yelled.

I edged closer, but I had never felt so scared before. I didn't feel excitement, just fear. A zillion thoughts crossed my mind. I looked around to make sure no one was watching.

"What if I fall on my stomach?" I asked.

"You won't! Just dive. I showed you how." My friend reassured me.

"What if I can't get the arch? I'll fall flat and look stupid!" I said.

"Of course you will get it. Bend your knees and push off the ground!"

"Someone will see me! I look ridiculous!"

"No, just try it first."

"I'm feeling weird..."

"You are fiiinee!"

"I can't..."

"Do you want me to push you?"

My friend was exasperated. I tried really hard, but could not get myself to do it.

Finally, I meekly got back into the pool using the steps.

I think that incident is a stark reminder of everything I do now. When I was six, I never cared what people thought. I must have looked like a superman wannabe, throwing myself off the deep ends. It never mattered. I hurt myself so many times, jumping without looking, jumping when it was too shallow, but never hesitated to run back and jump somewhere else, all over again.

But now, I am too busy being scared to even try things. What if people think I am silly? What if I get hurt? What if the sky falls on my head?

And I never try.

I don't know what it is about growing up. It makes us overly cautious and all that seems to grow is our instinct for self preservation and our fears. I don't do half the things I want to do because I am worried about the never ending consequences, most of which happen only in my head. And I don't get to do the other half because of external circumstances.

And hence I finally do nothing.

Like Calvin says, its no fun being grown up if you can't do what you want to do.

Aaah, to be six again.