JOIN USIn the 70s we lived in the picturesque hillside town of Kilchberg, close to Zurich in Switzerland, where my husband was then working. That afternoon was a typical glorious summer day, as I sat reading a novel in the park by the huge lake of Zurich watching the children, 5 and 3 years old, play in the shallow waters at the shore. The only persons in the vicinity were a lady, in the seat next to mine, and her 11 year-old-son on the water in a rubber boat.
I suddenly heard the children getting excited and laughing in merriment. I could see a big passenger ship passing in the distance, and its huge swell was jostling them and their toys about. As I watched I realised that there was something dreadfully amiss: my younger son was spluttering and struggling for breath. Water had entered his nose and he was going to lose balance and slip into the water.
On impulse I kicked off my shoes and dashed towards him. By the time I reached him he was lying in the water and being dragged away by the force of the swell. I tried to pick him up but to my shock, I felt the powerful current pulling me into the water as well, while the sand under my feet dispersed into nothing. There was nothing to hold on to apart from my son- both of us were going down.
The last I saw before my head went under water was the lady rising from her seat with an expression of horror, while I heard my elder son’s frantic “Amma, Amma!” as I disappeared before his eyes.
In the water we were being dragged deeper and deeper by the relentless current. Water rushed into my nostrils and mouth making breathing impossible. But underwater everything was calm and green, and I could see us submitting peacefully to death. A number of thoughts went through my mind: Who was to take care of my husband and young son when we were gone? Engrossed in these thoughts and becoming more and more serene, I abruptly felt a sharp tug on my sari pallav, and in half-consciousness I felt being pulled and pulled towards brightness.
I felt some one waking me up as if from a nightmare. I was breathing delicious air. The lady looked down on me and my son who was also regaining consciousness; she was completely wet. She had swum some distance underwater to catch hold of my sari pallav, and pulled us both in.
I had instinctively held on tightly to my son throughout, keeping his nose closed. Even today, after four decades, I get a cold shiver when I think of this incident. I had been lucky to have worn a nylon sari that day, a dress I usually do not wear, whose pallav had helped the kind lady fish us out.