By Savitri Narayanan
Mahinder sat on his chair in the shed and surveyed the beach. The season was on and the beaches of Goa were teeming with tourists. They were all over, shopping in the markets, visiting the churches and, of course, on the beaches! Eating and feasting in the shacks, walking up and down or relaxing on the chairs – they relished the sea! Friends in groups sat around chatting, some were sprawled on the sand and some others sat there looking lost. The expanse of the sea had something to offer to everyone!
‘All kinds of people from all over!’ thought Mahinder as he pulled out the rings, lifejacket and surfing boards which he hung on the hooks. The signboard ‘Lifeguard’, too, he hung on the shack.
“Tourists should know where to seek help,” his instructor had told him as part of the training, “Be here on time, outside your shack, display the lifesaving tools and the signboard.”
It was a few months ago that he had landed in Goa in search of employment. Two of his cousins had moved here a couple of years ago. Soon after Holi, when his grandfather passed away, Divesh had come down to Meerut for the rituals. With his parents’ blessings, Mahinder too had boarded the train with him. Divesh worked in some shop yet found time to take him to a hiring agency and soon Mahinder became a lifeguard!
“Where can I find a toilet?” a young mother with a toddler asked him. Mahinder pointed in the direction of the rows of washrooms.
“Thank you,” said the woman and walked away.
In a way Mahinder’s day was rather boring. He put on his uniform and just sat there on his chair in front of the shed surveying the beach and the sea. Sometimes he walked up and down the seashore, his eyes and mind always alert.
“Always stay alert,” his instructor had repeatedly told him, “You’re here to save lives. The tourists are excited and rush forward when the sea beckons but remember, they’ve no clue about the dangers that lurk around. They’ve no clue of the currents or the tides! They seek fun in the sea, you’re here to guard their lives!”
Swimming came naturally to Mahinder. Back home in Meerut, a river flowed past their home where the neighbourhood children swam for hours after school. Here, at the beach, the instructor had explained to him how to use the life jacket, the buoys and the rescue surf boards.
“Keep your eyes open, talk to the tourists about the safety guidelines,” the instructor had said several times. “Don’t scare them yet convey not to go too far into the sea.”
The tourists rarely cared! ‘There’s something charming about the sea that throws caution to the winds,’ thought Mahinder as he watched the rise and fall of the waves.
“Madam, be careful! Keep an eye on the little ones!”
Mahinder could see the excitement in the eyes and the bouncing steps of the children. There was a big yellow ball and a few floating toys and a tube too. They were raring to go!
“Children, play in the shallow waters, near the shore, ok?” Mahinder called out as they headed for the sea.
Mahinder walked up and down for a while and then sat down on the chair outside his shed. As if reading his mind, a tea vendor passed by and offered, “Saab, chai?”
The rhythm of the waves added sweetness to the warm tea he sipped. The sky was clear, the breeze was cool and all was well with the world till Mahinder noticed the turbulence. Far in the sea someone was shouting for help. There were two hands out there in the sea waving frantically. A few paused at the edge of the water wondering what was happening.
Instantly, Mahinder put down the teacup, put on the life jacket, grabbed the surfboard and buoy and rushed to the sea. Swiftly he swam to the spot, got the victim on the surfboard, turned it around and swam back holding on to it.
“No worries, you’re safe now,” he whispered, not sure whether the victim could hear or not.
Once on the shore, he pulled out the child from the surfboard, put him on the sand to administer first aid. A small crowd had collected and stood around. He was a young child, maybe about five or six years old.
Just as Mahinder bent down to start the first aid procedure, the child opened his eyes.
“Mummy,” he whimpered.
“Thank God! He’s all right!” said Mahinder with a smile.
A woman in dripping swimsuit rushed through the crowd and grabbed the child.
“My little Alfred! How could I lose you,” she hugged and held the young boy close, kissing him again and again.
“No words are enough to thank you,” she turned to Mahinder, “My Alfred is here, thanks to you!”
“Thank God, he’s all right! Let me get back to my work! Stay safe madam,” said Mahinder as he collected his things and walked towards his shed.
(Savitri Narayanan is a retired educationist at present in Bangaluru. A mother and grandmother, loves, reading, writing and travelling.)
