DROWNING

(Excerpted from Fallen Leaves, the autobiography of
LC Arulpragasam)

My mother superstitiously told me, when I was about five years old, that I had two whorls on my head/hair (in Tamil ‘rettechuli’) and that therefore I should be careful of water and drowning. She did not allow me to swim in the sea. However, even in my student days, I realized that I had a love of water – lakes, lagoons or seas. It had its dangers too, as my mother’s superstitions seemed to prove. I relate three cases of my brushes with death by drowning.

I Was the Drowning Boy

I was boarded at the Royal College boarding when the whole of Royal College, including the boarding, was taken over by the British Army during World War II. I was forced to go into private boarding houses that happened to be down lanes by the sea. As for school, we had to share the University building with its students, leaving the mornings entirely free for me. Fortunately, I lived near the beach at Kinross Avenue, which gave me the opportunity to swim every day. I thus became a good swimmer by the age of 14, unbeknownst to my parents, who were posted in distant provinces.

The sea at Kinross Avenue had a raft with a diving board about halfway to the reef, which was about 300 yards from the shore. I had never swum to the raft; but one day I managed to swim past it. As the reef was near, I dared myself to swim to it. Having reached the reef (an achievement for me at that time), I challenged myself to swim past it to the open sea! I had hardly gone 20 yards beyond the reef, when I suffered a severe cramp in my right leg. My leg doubled up in pain and my body arched in two. I could not swim, I could not float: I struggled with both arms flailing, but I was going down. There was no use shouting because there was no one near me. I did not shout for help although I knew that I was going to drown – because I knew that it was my own fault. I went down twice, struggling for breath, for life.

Fortunately, a senior at Royal College (Basil Mendis) had seen me, a small boy, swimming to the reef alone. When I crossed the reef, he got alarmed – and watched me closely. When I went down, he shouted desperately to the best swimmers on the raft for help. Thank God, the raft was well positioned and that there was a life-saver on it! He dived off the raft, crossed the reef and reached me – just in time! He held me up physically and curtly ordered me to lie on my back. He held my head with both hands, with his body beneath me and used the back-stroke kick to safely bring me back to the shore – to the applause of the small crowd on the beach. I thanked him to the extent possible while vomiting water from my stomach and lungs.

Years later, while still working in Rome, I happened to be in Sri Lanka on vacation. When I was at the cinema, I saw the man who had saved my life. I recognized him because of his tall athletic build. He left his seat during the interval to go to the bar: I hurried after him. I reminded him how he had saved my life 40 years ago. I found out that his name was ‘Sirimanne’. I bought him a drink and we chatted for a while. It was regrettably brief, with the man who had saved my life 40 years ago.

Saving a Drowning Boy

In the second case where I nearly drowned, there was reversal of roles. Whereas I, the life-saver in this case was 22 years old, while the boy that I managed to save was about 14 years old – a strange reversal of roles. The similarity ends there: I had no training or experience in life-saving, whereas the boy I tried to save clung on to me till I almost drowned.

At that time, I was already working as an Asst. Lecturer in the University, living down Schofield Place by the sea. This gave me the chance to swim in the sea most mornings before going to work. One morning when I went for a swim, there were many on the beach. Among them was a batch of schoolboys about 14 years of age playing in chest-deep water, probably not knowing how to swim. I set about my purpose determinedly – which was to swim to the reef and back, although I was not very fit at that time. I managed to reach the reef, which was about 300 yards from the shore. I turned to swim back. I was halfway to the shore when I heard shouts of ‘Help, Help’! The cries were from the group of boys: one of them had been carried out by the current and was drowning.

The cries came from far to one side, which would have involved my swimming an extra 150 yards. I was unfit and doubted my ability to swim that extra distance. The cries got more urgent and desperate. There were no swimmers out there: so I had to save the boy, or he would die. It was a difficult decision to make: I was already too tired to try. Against my better judgment, knowing nothing about life-saving, I swam to save the boy. But as soon as I reached him, he clung on to me, pinioning both my arms, so that we both went down. I struggled to extricate myself, trying to come up for one last breath, but he continued to hold me down. I somehow managed to free one arm: I punched him in the jaw with all my might. With that, I was able to free myself and come up to breathe. Since there was nothing that I could do to save him, I tried to swim away; but I could not let him drown: so I turned back.

Again the boy clutched me with both arms, bringing me down. This time I consciously hit him hard on the jaw so that he recoiled, letting me go free. By this time we were near the shore: but I had no strength to go on. I remember that the boy was very fair, a Burgher boy.

I also remember that he was wearing khaki shorts with a white cloth belt that was trailing in the water. I knew that if I went near him, his grasp would lead to my death. Fortunately, underwater, I saw a huge wave come sweeping towards the shore. Keeping him at a good distance, I caught his trailing white belt. As the wave crested, I launched him in its path with all my might – to reach the outstretched arms of his friends.

It did not end there for me, however: I still had to reach the shore. All my strength had ebbed. By this time, I was almost vertical in the water, not able to swim even one stroke. I had to wait for the next wave to wash me to the shore. All the boys gathered around to thank me. While they went joyfully home, I lay retching on the beach for almost one hour.

Drowning with a Capsized Boat

I realized that I was a ‘water man’. I actively sought a lake near Rome, where I lived. I was lucky to find a fresh-water lake, only one hour’s drive away, Lake Bracciano (Lago di Bracciano). It was a very large lake, more than 800 feet deep.

I rented a piece of land on the lake and kept a sailboat there. I had never taken sailing lessons; but this did not deter me from sailing. One Sunday afternoon in early spring-time, I set sail with the wind at my back. I had little control over direction, going ‘where the wind listeth’.

I loved to hear the hiss of water at my bow, the whip of the wind in my sails and the gurgle of water in my wake. After some time, I realized that I had come a long way and was in the middle of the lake, about two miles from the shore, and distant from any boat. I decided to turn back. I knew in theory how to turn, but somehow my boat capsized in the strong wind.

Fortunately, I was a good swimmer, but the water was very, very cold in the middle of the lake in early spring. I was able to cling to the boat, which floated because of the air trapped underneath. I had not bothered to put on my life-jacket. Hoping that it would be trapped under the boat, I dived repeatedly for it – and found it.

I noticed for the first time that there was a whistle attached to it – which subsequently saved my life. I did not know how long I could keep my hold on the boat: meanwhile, I had to keep moving because the water was freezing. Although it was afternoon now, I knew that when night came, I would surely drown because my freezing fingers would lose their grip on the boat. I could not be seen by anyone, since I was in the middle of the lake. There was no hope!

Fortunately it was a Sunday – and there was a regatta on the lake. However, the boats had a set course and would never come near me. I had capsized in the middle of the lake – and nobody would see me! I saw a buoy perhaps one mile away from me, around which the boats had to turn to sail to the winning post. If only I could get to within hearing-distance of that buoy, perhaps someone would hear me or see me, before nightfall. I had to be rescued before nightfall or I would surely die.

My only hope was to swim to near the buoy. I had to swim with one hand while pulling the boat with the other, knowing full well that I had to pull the mast and sail under the water too. It was a struggle; but I knew that the alternative was a watery death. So I struggled and struggled, pulling the boat with alternating arms: I must have taken two hours to get near that buoy.

Whenever a boat rounded the buoy, I would blow the whistle with all my might – but to no avail. I was probably too far away from the buoy, while the wind was also against me. So I struggled to get closer to the buoy: even so, with the sound of the wind when they turned, successive boats never heard me. Desperate now, I came up with a new strategy: I needed to sound the whistle just as they turned the tiller and before the sound of the wind filled their sails; otherwise they would never hear me.

By this time, there were only stragglers left in the race. I lay in wait for a straggler: when one came, I blew my whistle desperately, but just at the correct moment. Thank God, they heard me! The crew had to abandon the race in order to rescue me. They were two French girls: they pulled me into their boat, thus saving me from certain death. They decided to save my boat too: they tied my overturned boat to theirs and towed it along, with the sails under the water too.

There could not have been a better ending to my escapade. I thanked the girls profusely in my broken French and regretted that they had to give up their race in order to save me. I limped home, none the worse for wear. Fortunately, my wife was not in Rome to hear of my misadventure!

Perhaps my mother’s superstition about drowning was almost true. Or perhaps I was working too hard (courting drowning experiences) to make it come true!