March 01, 2025

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GIRL, UNINTER RUPTED

The recent MahaKumbh celebrations reminded me of my only memory of attending a Kumbh Mela in 2004 as a teen. I don't remember the crowd, the prayers, the ascetic and eccentric Tsadhus, or any other part of this great orchestration of devotion and commerce. I do, however, remember being cold, standing on the stone steps of a river, shivering just like everyone else around at 5 a.m. Women and men around me took cautious steps to first dip their toes in the water, followed by their torso, joining hands in desperate prayers and then rushing out of the shallow side of the river to their clothes. A quick dip. A dutiful exitAnd then--my mother. My mother, tall and broad, her saree draped in seedha palla, cutting through the obedient crowd like a blade. Not a cautious dipper but a diver. A woman who plunged headfirst into the river. The river opened for her. She cut through the dark water, long strokes, smooth, assured, gliding from one end to another. The crowd was stunned in silence with the spectacle of a woman swimming, alone, in the deep. I remember standing in that crowd seething in what felt like anger and betrayal. After all, this was the same woman who spent years warning me against water. She didn't let me learn swimming as a kid because she was scared I would drown. And here she was swimming as if she always belonged in water. As if she has done this before and never stoppedSwimming to her heart's content was her way of praying. Unable to hide my displeasure, I inquired as soon as she stepped out of the water, "How do you know how to swim?" She shrugged. "My village was close to the river Betwa. So for years, all the kids in the family spent hours swimming in it as often as possible"My jaw dropped in disbelief. A lifetime ago, in another river, in another life, my mother had been something else. Someone else. She was a lot more than I thought her to be. A decade later, I lost my mother to an illness. For the 23 years, while she was in my life, this was the only time she swam. I wonder if she ever wanted to swim again. If yes, why didn't she? If not, then did she ever miss it? This became one of the handful

RESCUE DEEP WITHIN THE EARTH

IT WAS A COLD, OVERCAST SATURDAY MORNING in the tiny Welsh village of Penwyllt. Barrels of beer sat in the South Wales Caving Club's base in the mountainous Brecon Beacons National Park, ready for the day-late Bonfire Night fireworks later that evening of 6 November 2021Shortly after 9 a.m., George Linnane was waiting expectantly at the base for his friends Melissa `Mel' Bell and Mark Burkey. They had planned a fairly straightforward five-hour cave expedition before meeting up with friends and family for the fireworksGeorge, a 38-year-old railway engineer, had driven 140 kilometres over the border from England, from the home he shared with his partner, Julie. Mel, 34, and Mark, 52, were coming from slightly farther away in the English Midlands, where they both livedGeorge didn't have to wait long before his friends drove into the club's car park. They chatted about that night's festivities and pulled on water-resistant oversuits, gloves, headlamps and helmets. The trio, who had caved together several times, walked five minutes to the entrance to Ogof Ffynnon Ddu (OFD)--Cave of the Black Spring. The approximately 60-kilometre-long maze-like system lies beneath the rolling green hills of the Upper Swansea Valley. Going down 310 metres, it is the deepest cave in the UKFor 10 minutes, they crawled through the cave on their bellies before emerging into a larger space. George had visited the cave many times but was in the mood to explore. Maybe I'll see somewhere I've never seen before, he thoughtThe friends decided to visit the Smithy and the Upper Smithy, chambers that could be accessed via a