Dudurudh

This afternoon I fell into the Lake Annecy.

I had meant to be flying over it – with a parachute – admiring its deep blue beauty from above like the birds (none of which I can identify). But instead, I found myself on a paddleboard. Cyril had given me some instructions – row twice on the right and then twice on the left. With each row, twist the oar a bit at the end – and that was when I was still on dry land. Armed with nothing about beginner’s luck and Cyril’s unshakeable belief that I’d be fine by myself (in the rain, on a giant lake, for the first time on a paddleboard), I set off anyway. 30 minutes of stillness in motion, a balancing act I didn’t know I was capable of. And then, at some point when I was half way back it started drizzling and I thought it’d be a great idea to admire the alps stilly from the middle of the Great Lake that it hugs. 

But Annecy, it turns out, was bored. The rain meant that nobody else had shown up. Just the usually ducks and a couple of swans – tired from their morning of play and practice. So, helped by a gentle breeze, she sent over a few waves – not enough to topple me. Just enough to unbalance me. In the few seconds (perhaps minutes) that I spent underwater, I felt all at once panicked and safe, unfamiliar and in awe, excited and terrified. I tried to fight Annecy’s pull and find the paddleboard again. But each time, she pulled back harder until I let her hold me fully. Underwater, Annecy’s blue is deeper by a couple of shades. The fish that were under me earlier had scurried off. The ducks, from a distance, must’ve found it hilarious too. I swam, oar in one hand, towards the paddleboard just a few feet away from me. And when I finally crawled back onto the paddleboard, I was laughing hysterically at where I found myself – inside the lake rather than flying over it. 

I rowed slowly back to Cyril’s secret outpost, regaining my breathe, my tempo and my thoughts. By then the drizzle had stopped. The air was still. Annecy looked calm (even bored) again.  People fall off paddle boards all the time. In my case, nobody else saw it. Not Cyril, not the people would’ve been flying overhead otherwise, not the wealthy white men who owned the houses along the coast. Just the ducks, the swans, Annecy and I (I don’t know if the mountains were in on it. They seemed unimpressed by these antics).

It was the first day of Autumn in France. The kids will go back to school, the tourists will be sparse and wind will get a bit chilly soon. Annecy won’t see the people she loves so much any time soon. No wonder she wanted to hold on to me a little bit longer. 

I know that feeling too.