When A told me what ran through his mind while he was under water, I became aware of the seed of my love for the sea. He said that if we ever needed inspiration for forms and colours, we only needed to look here. This was where the world as we knew it began approximately 4.5 billion years ago, covered in blue all over. Marine life is far more evolved than us, like billion years evolved. To just think of the advancement, the maturity that exists when compared to us, possibly the youngest animal on the planet, surpasses my ability to imagine.
What I absorbed first was the sheer beauty. If I did not have to remember to breathe steadily, not bump into coral and basically try and be buoyant I would collapse in a heap wherever I land and just, stare. Even then I would not know where to look. At the coral, which formed the base of the marine life? Hideouts of small fishes, go-to places for the bigger ones at meal times? Or the ones lolling on the sea beds, sweeping into themselves plankton and anything else that chances on their path? This time we saw, fifteen metres deep, above ridges of coral, fusiliers, hundreds of them moving around in curves. They seemed to have created an infinite loop, engulfing us within it when we moved closer, pulled by the magnetism of their movements. Stone fish, expertly camouflaged on the coral, but not too far away from their passing prey. A shy octopus scuttled into the nearest cave, its curious head black in the dark, moving this way and that, observing us covertly.
Fusiliers in Dance
The perfect proportions and unthinkable combinations of colour. How do you know? How do you know what looks good with what and create something so compelling, you could spend an hour looking at it and still not have enough? Not just one something, millions of somethings. Over and over and over again. Each more perfect than the other.
Then I understood the rules. Not our rules, the divers’. They are aplenty, starting with don’t touch anything. The rules of the ocean. One, swim in the direction of the current. Swimming against the current is like calling someone at the other end of a cricket pitch during a match. Futile. Two, be benign. If the fish help the coral by identifying when predators are in sight, the coral will hide the fish when danger approaches. Like animal calls in the wild. The monkeys famously have alert calls for the jungle when the tiger is on a prowl. They share knowledge, let it out in the universe, trusting that it will be used for the greater good.
Clown fish and coral
Finally, I got a glimpse of wisdom. We did not belong in the water; we were foreign beings. With bubbles following us wherever we went, awkward movements, careening towards and away from surfaces. Shouting our approach loud and clear in the way we displaced water when we moved. Yet we were tolerated, welcomed, even. Fish moved around us. Nothing approached us and we were told that the only injuries came from touching or provoking animals, which otherwise just had better things to do with their time. Like look for lunch, find a mate, or just sail with the current. While boundaries exist, they are defined by the nature of the habitat like water temperature, currents or depth rather than being forceful, or contrived.
An enlightened friend once countered that we are also a part of nature, so surely we come imbibed with some of these qualities. To say that we behave unnaturally would be harsh. Perhaps, he is right. I hope to reach his level of optimism one day.
Till then, I remember the silence, the colour, the purpose. Which, far from proving the next big thing, is just to exist. And, to dance.