It was his fourth birthday, Rahul’s, my adorable son. I and my husband were more thrilled than he was. Seeing us so excited, he hesitantly asked me one day, “mom it is my birthday on the 20th Feb right?” and I laughingly gave him a big yes. But the look on his face made it seem like he still wasn’t convinced. He’d started planning for his big day weeks ahead of the actual date. But more than hosting a party and the prospect of getting tons of gifts, he was keener on going to the Ganges. It was the special thing we did as a family. We went for a holy dip in the Ganges thrice a year, either a day before or a day after celebrating each of our birthdays.

Rahul loved water; then be it beaches, oceans or swimming pools, he enjoyed them all. If it were in his control he would spend hours in the shower. Some days I had to literally drag him out of the bathroom and get him ready for school. But he loved the Ganges the most.  

Right from his childhood, we noticed that he wasn’t scared of the enormity of the Ganges; in fact he would venture in fearlessly. It was as if he shared a special connection with her. It was me who would always warn him to be wary and to be aware of the power of the strong currents that could simply sweep away the best of swimmers. But he would simply dismiss me with a motion of his hand. Although we took bath only in the special enclosure built for devotees, it was still scary. Apart from swimming, he was also very passionate about boating, and what could be more thrilling and awe-inspiring than going for a boat ride in the Ganges. I felt more comfortable and secure in a boat, where no part of my body was in contact with the water. I liked it better than taking a dip into the unknown.

I knew that the moment he would see the boats painted in various hues by the river bank, he would drag us both towards it and that’s exactly what he did. I could see that his eyes came alive with enthusiasm and eagerness when we neared the river bank. All the boats were tied to a stout bamboo piece to keep them from drifting away. The way they gently rocked on the waves always reminded of a cradle being swayed by a doting mother.

Rahul was the first to jump on to the eight seater boat. My husband helped me onto it, which simply wouldn’t stop moving back and forth. After gingerly getting on it, I quickly sat on the nearest seat available. It always took me a bit to get my nerves settled. The boat gently ventured into the overwhelming vastness of the ocean. It felt more like a giant water bed, only more frightening and of course one can’t make out. My son was squealing with excitement every time his small, pink hands touched the water. Seeing him do that, most people on the boat, including the rather heavy bald man sitting across us started playing with the water. He for one seemed to be even more animated than my son. I feared he might jump into the ocean not being able to contain his excitement. And as I expected, the boatman admonished in a slightly rude manner, “now, now, let’s not get too excited. If you bend over too much, the boat will capsize. I would like you all to sit still.”

Rahul’s face got a little tensed and I could sense that he wasn’t the least bit amused with the boatman’s discourse on safety. He stuck his tongue out at him. I had to hush him but it did bring a smile to the row man’s face. The weather was absolutely perfect for boating, neither too sunny, nor too mild. The ocean was sparkling like a bed of diamonds under the golden light. Watching Rahul enjoy himself thoroughly felt so good. I took out his favorite bag of chips and dangled it teasingly in front of him. And the brat that he is, he attacked it and snatched it right out of my hands. He also liked to feed the fishes, and when one came right out of the water and gobbled a piece of the chip, it pleased him immensely. And then he mocked the way they ate their food and made these really funny fish faces, he is a clown really.

While he was trying to lure the fishes out of the water, I suddenly felt him being tugged at slightly. I could tell because I had my arms around his abdomen to keep him from falling. A second later Rahul screamed his head off and this time I could feel the pressure increasing. Almost three fourths of his arm was into the water and he was hanging out precariously. I started shivering and in my panic started to yell as well. My husband immediately held Rahul too. Every body was in shock and couldn’t understand for a moment as to what was happening. When we almost managed to pull him back slightly, up came the most frightening sight I have ever seen in my whole life. A seven feet crocodile showed up holding on to my son’s arm. I could see Rahul’s tender arm punctured in several places and the blood oozing out and the ugly, yellow teeth of the monster setting in deeper with every opposing tug. Seeing us struggle, two or three men got up and tried helping us. My son was crying for my help, “mom, mom, mom,” was all he could say. Tears of pain were flowing down his face and I was doing whatever I could. Oh my poor child was suffering so much.

In the meanwhile, the boatman, tried to hit the croc with his paddle and did so four to five times, but the animal instead of letting go, grabbed on to my son even more fiercely. I could sense the pressure almost ripping off Rahul’s arm. We couldn’t pull him an inch. At this moment, the boat started rocking wildly. “You have to let go, or we all go into the water,” said the boat man. I had to let go? Let go of my son, my own flesh and blood? My little Rahul was begging me to save him. I am his mother after all. He trusted me to save him. He knew that I wouldn’t let go. He believed it when I said so. I was holding on tight to his abdomen, but could feel him slipping away. He was on his back, which was going back and forth against the edge of the boat, tearing his bugs bunny t-shirt that I had so lovingly bought for him. His right hand was almost entirely into the croc’s mouth, while my husband was holding on Rahul’s left hand. The boat now swayed dangerously due to too much weight on one side.

Rahul’s entire body was being put through so much and to think of it, I had protected him all his life from as much as a bruise. My baby was slipping away from me. I started humming, “baba blacksheep have you any wool” his favorite nursery rhyme in between sobs, in an effort to calm him down. “Leave him right now or we all die. There are more from where this one came from,” the boatman bawled yet again. But how does one let go of their life, when people don’t even let go of their favorite book? I looked at him, amazed at the meanness of the human soul, but then I also saw the fear and anxiety on other’s faces. My son was almost good as gone, but that gives me no right to kill, or rather be responsible for the deaths of these innocent people. I said a sorry to my child and did what mothers wouldn’t even do in their dreams. I saw, right in front of my eyes, my child being dragged deep into the water, and imagined his body being torn to shreds under the powerful, unforgiving teeth of the monster. I slumped back on the wooden plank next to my husband. We both didn’t know how to console the other. When we reached the shores, there was already a big crowd enquiring everyone as to what was going on. We walked past them, went to our hotel room, collected our luggage and headed straight to the airport. We still hadn’t even looked at each other. We reached home in about 3 hours and my husband went back to work the next day. I went back to the university as well, where I teach English literature to graduate students.

It’s been 10 years since then, and we still haven’t spoken about the incident. But we do celebrate Rahul’s birthday every year. We call his friends, and throw a party. We keep all his gifts in his room in the small cupboard, each one of them as they come, with the wrapping and the ribbon intact. We didn’t have another child, we didn’t want to. I know that we both have hearts as heavy as a truckload of steel and we do need to unload it to feel normal again, to be able to breathe again. But we haven’t reached that point yet, may be we will, or may be we will not.

We never went to the Ganges after that year.