They all stood there, chirping away happily, probably discussing how breathtakingly beautiful the Miami beach was. And no doubt, it was as heavenly as anyone could imagine heaven to be. The official tour had turned into a vacation spree, with this being the third one. Not my idea, though. It seemed like these girls had bought too many beachwear’s and had nowhere to flaunt them except these U.S. beaches.
I glanced over to the nearest beach chair, and sure enough, all of my colleagues were staring at me with all their might. I was with them, and alone, at the same time.
I passed a smile to them.
I noticed a man planting himself on the beach after taking a very satiating surf. I remembered an ages ago Goa vacation with my mom. My mom had forced me to learn how to surf and swim, and I had been taught well. Not that I had learnt well, I was still unsure of that.
But I knew how to start.
I looked at my colleagues again. Busy in themselves. A loser that I was to them, they couldn’t have possibly imagined what I was going to do next.
So I went and grabbed a thick but adequately buoyant board for my ride. I put one foot forward, and a great wave rolled over- drenching me from head to toe.
‘Look! She’s gonna surf!’, I heard one of them say, accompanied by fits of laughter, and a ‘come back, it’s risky’.
In that one moment itself, I decided not to go for the lesser waves. I watched the sea swell, lurched forward, and caught the biggest wave- in one shot, and rode it till its growling roar became resonant with the cry of my soul, a desperate cry to let the world know that I wasn’t someone who messes up every time. As the wave curled above my head, I was afraid no more- I was leading my inhibitions. I savoured the taste of the air, and after it got over, I compressed my toes into the sand, taking care not to fall.
I’d done it.