This is Lake Living!

kayaking through emotional waters

“Skip a stone
Take a hike
Sit a spell
Listen
Daydream
Just Breathe
This is
Lake living”

… said a green sign at the Durgam Cheruvu lake park complete with its dusty, yellow lettering. I went to check the place out by the recommendation of a colleague, to keep my Saturday morning occupied.

I had set out early, with my trusty knee socks and Nikes, on my mom’s scooter with the aid of google maps, unmuted in my ears. After around an hour into a journey that was supposed to take me under thirty minutes, several detours and U-turns later, I managed to reach my destination. A grand arch stood at the entrance to the park bustling with people, their athleisure and occasional bicycles — a serene oasis stowed away in the concrete jungle of Hitex, Hyderabad.

After half-jogging and half-walking to the lakeside, I arrived by the water, the sun beating down on the reflective lake and the surrounding lush greenery.

That’s a statue of a flamingo — not a real one. I was quite taken aback at first too!

Strolling along, I spotted a couple of guys sitting by a table lodged on one of the banks, that could be accessed through a small gate — open wide. Resting to their left were kayaks: bold, bright-coloured narrow watercraft, replete with the double-bladed paddles on the side. Though I had considered kayaking and even looked it up before arriving, my intent to try wasn’t set in stone. It was serendipitous to end up there spontaneously and with ease.

I got into a fluorescent-orange life jacket, fastened the straps tightly after ticking the ‘Can swim? : No’ box on the registration form and paying them through my phone that chimed with the familiar ‘Paytm karo’ tune. And that’s how I set out into the wild water, all alone with only a paddle and frail-looking boat-thing. Just kidding. The instructor gave me a demo first, accompanying on the seat behind me.

“Push back with the paddle to dislodge the kayak from the parking rack. If you want to go left, push the water using the right blade. Similarly, for the right.”, he spoke in Hindi. I faltered in the beginning, spilling water onto the deck, getting my bare feet wet, afraid that I’ll drench my phone lying on the surface ahead of me. “It’s fine”, he said. “Try to get into a rhythm and the water won’t spill as much.” After about a couple of new minutes, he asked me to steer the craft back towards the rack and said that he’d let me off to man my own boat.

I had thirty-ish minutes on the clock with no other kayaks around. I frolicked my way through the water, vigorously pedalling till I reached the middle of the lake and then stopped to feel the sun’s warmth flowing down on me, the satin, silken water ripples left in the wake of a giant stork dipping its feet and taking off the water into a magnificent flight. The civilisation felt distant from my condition — the people going about their weekend mornings, over the bridge, driving away from me, leaving me in the moment: reclining amidst the black water lit on fire, the storks croaking and the egrets squawking. Just me and my yellow kayak against the world!

The water’s surface rocking the kayak as the sun shines on.

At a distance, I spotted the instructor on his motor boat, gazing into the distance. He was waiting to save this non-swimmer from drowning, but I’m proud to report that there arose no need. I wondered how normal it must be for him — the experience that was so novel to me. Yet, I sensed that it could never get too old, from the way he seemed to be suspended in time, meditating without any rapid movements.

I had been anxious in the days leading up to it, my body tense and my throat dry most of the time. In fact, that seems to be the general tone of my days right now. I’m sitting with the feeling and trying to let it pass through me. It’s hard but since my little excursion, I have been thinking about the repetitive motion of the paddles — left, right, left, right — propelling me forward, backward, sideways and around. Getting into the rhythm. Feeling in control of my boat. I reckon it will not be too different with my emotions, if I give them enough time and am not afraid to get into the mucky, swampy areas — confident that I have with me my paddle to push back from the weeds into the tranquil, sun-lit expanse.

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Thanks for reading and as my lock-screen wallpaper (via

Dandelion Seeds: Illustrated Essays

) says: “May it come easy to you”.

Naya