The Ocean Heard What the Temple Couldn't

So this was day two, and we woke up early as we had booked a scuba dive to Netrani Island, Murudeshwar. Our dive was scheduled at 9 AM. It was a two-hour drive, and we had a good time in the car-talking to each other, discussing life, and having those small little arguments. That's when I realized what I had truly missed during the past 1.5 years.

The beauty of being with loved ones is this: we fight, argue, stop talking, get irritated with one another-but at the core, we love and care so deeply. I always say this with my own example. No matter how much I argue with my mom or dad and stop talking, at the end of the day, I'm the one wondering, "Did he eat?" or "What must she be thinking?" or "Is she okay?" It's a relationship where you feel safe enough to show your worst, and still know you'll never be left behind.

This is the essence of the parent-child bond. We don't understand everything about each other, and neither do they. But there comes a point in life when parents become children, and we must nurture them just like they nurtured us. And yet, the constant tug-of-war between choosing my career and choosing my family leaves me stuck. I've come to believe that nurturing each other is the only way forward-both parties will learn something. These were my thoughts during that two-hour drive-the beauty, the contradictions, the love.

Between Faith and Fear

Once we reached Murudeshwar, we visited the temple. The gopuram-the temple's towering entrance-is the second tallest in India. I stood in front of it, whispering prayers. I was about to scuba dive for the first time. My life was literally in the hands of strangers, of divers I barely knew. I took a leap of faith and prayed that everything would go well.

At the beach, we were handed waivers to sign. These waiver forms always unsettle me. Why do they always begin with, "In case of death..."? Couldn't they say something reassuring instead? I've always hated getting these forms signed-even during school trips, I remember dreading them. But I signed it anyway.

The instructors briefed us on the hand signals and safety procedures. Then we boarded the boat-a one-hour journey into the Arabian Sea. After 20 minutes, there was no land in sight. Just the vast ocean. I felt like I was in Life of Pi -only this time, without Richard Parker. And that thought lingered. In the film, Pi couldn't say a proper goodbye to Richard Parker and regretted it his whole life. That resonated so deeply with me.

When you're away from your loved ones and something happens to them, and you can't even say goodbye-it's the kind of pain that never really leaves. That's what happened with Sonu-my cat, my little soulmate. She had been with us for nearly 10 years. I remember telling her, "I'll come back soon. We'll play again." But I never got the chance.

She passed away while I was in America. I wasn't there to comfort her in her last moments. I still wonder-was she scared? Was she cold? Was someone there for her? And now, going back to India, she wasn't there to welcome me. That kind of loss... you carry it in your chest forever.

As I looked at my mom immersed in the ocean, smiling, soaking in its beauty-I realized something. Maybe we all work hard for this very thing-to make our loved ones smile, to see them happy. That moment brought peace to my soul.

We finally reached Netrani. The dive was organized by Scuba Spirit. There were twelve first-timers and four expert divers. While we waited our turn, I decided to snorkel.

The water was warm-Murudeshwar is hot-and immersing myself felt like therapy. People say underwater activity helps with weight loss. I believe it. I used to attend scuba classes in the U.S. and even did aqua-fit in Canada. I knew the benefits and the joy.

After a while, I convinced my mom to join me. She hesitated but eventually snorkeled, and it was such a heartwarming sight. We stayed in the water for quite some time, enjoying it fully.

When it was my turn to dive, I put on my gear. They pushed me into the water. Since I had already snorkeled, I wasn't anxious about water entering my ears. The diver confirmed I was okay and then took me under.

And suddenly-it was just me and the ocean. Blue, vast, silent.

Finding Nemo and Finding Myself

Underwater, I saw a school of fish swimming together. I spotted a stunning blue fish, one with polka dots, corals, and crabs. There was one particular black fish I had seen in Finding Nemo. That movie was a part of my childhood, and suddenly-right there in the deep-I felt a piece of it come alive.

I wondered, Do these fish have families? Do they have emotions? How do they live? That old song began to play in my head:"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming..."

That scene in Finding Nemo where Dory and Marlin face challenges, and Dory says this-now it made perfect sense. Life is all about doing what we must and letting the rest go. Just keep swimming. The ocean had answers to questions I hadn't even asked yet. I told myself: I'll scuba dive in more places. This was just the beginning.

"Even the ocean couldn't hold my grief, but it embraced my healing. And maybe, just maybe, Sonu swam beside me in spirit-quietly whispering, 'Just keep swimming.'"