Toronto Diary- The Swimming School

Today, as I accompanied Viplav, my grandson, to his swimming school, I was reminded of an essay written by the great English essayist Francis Bacon (1561-1621). His essay 'Of Travel' begins with this observation:

Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education, in the elder a part of experience. 

Since I belong to the latter category, I take all travel as a part of enriching my experience of the world. With the curiosity of a child, I look at all things with wondering eyes and try to soak in all the places, things, people and their customs, their dresses, their manners and morals with an open heart and an open mind. It is also a habit with me to compare and contrast new experiences with the old, and thus, add new ideas and notions to my experience. 

So, when Anshul, my very affectionate daughter-in-law proposed that we -- my wife and I -- accompany her to Viplav's swimming school, we enthusiastically jumped into her car. The swimming school was at half an hour's distance. The weather was pleasant. On both sides of the wide roads were vast patches of green. Trees swayed in the gentle breeze. There were occasional streams, lending a magical beauty to the landscape. Incidentally, Canada has the largest number of trees per person in the world. According to the data available, compared to 28 trees per person in India, Canada has a whopping 10,163 trees per person. Unbelievable, one may say, but true. So just imagine how green Canada is. It seems God has showered all His bounties on this land. But these people have conserved their resources well, compared to India where we tend to encroach upon all our water resources: we fill our ponds and construct houses on them and indiscriminately, nay, ruthlessly abuse our rivers, lakes, and other water resources. 

Well, well. The all-green scene distracted my mind. But Anshul was focused. She was to reach the school on time. Here, in Canada, they have to book a slot for their child in advance. Online, of course. Another interesting fact I learned was that, in case you desired to skip your slot due to one reason or another, you had to inform them twenty hours in advance, and your slot would be retained in your account, and you could avail it on some other occasion, of course, through booking. So we had two slots of half an hour each available to us. This meant sixty minutes of buoyant splashing and swimming in the pool for our young one. 

We reached early and decided to treat ourselves with a hot cup of coffee at the Starbucks just across the road. With our cups in hand, we trotted into the Aqua Swimming Schools and registered our entry online.

In there, it was a world full of buoyancy and joy. The swimming pool was barricaded with glass walls. On two sides, the parents/grandparents were sitting on cushy chairs overseeing their wards splashing merrily in their zones, which had been demarcated according to their levels and age. Some, like us, were waiting for their turn. It was a world of happy kids and their equally happy parents. 

Exactly at four, the swimming instructors of each lane took their reluctant wards out of the water and guided them to the adjacent washrooms where their guardians took over. Now, it was the turn of a new batch of kids. Viplav, in his swimsuit and water goggles, entered the swimming pool through a glass door, and immediately, his instructor took over. There were three more children in his lane. There were ten lanes, divided by colorful plastic ropes. The instructor lovingly started giving lessons to them, telling them how to dive and swim. We had taken our chairs and were joyfully watching our child lash at the water and splash in it. 

As my eyes wandered from one lane to another, I was flabbergasted to notice that in two or three lanes, there were young parents also in the pool. And what were they doing there? They were with their tiny tots. Yes, tiny tots! As young as 7 or 8 months old. I looked at Anshul questioningly. Anshul explained that they were there to acclimatize their kids to the swimming culture. "Acclimatize? At this young age?" I exclaimed. "Yes, Papa. Acclimatize."

Suddenly, I slid into the memory lane. Like all children of my age, I too was fond of swimming and would jump into a canal in the neighborhood and splash there merrily with my friends. One day, my mother got wind of my swimming. She was furious, and I was given a loud lecture against ever going to the canal again. At night, Mother caressed my head, hugged me, and said: "उस नहर के पास कभी मत जाना. एक बाबा ने तेरा हाथ देखा था. उसने कहा था कि इस बालक को पानी से ख़तरा है. यह डूब सकता है." That was the end of my swimming craze as well as career. I could never learn swimming in my life. And I have always regretted it. 

And here were these parents making their unimaginably young children dip in the water, making them familiar with the feel of water, the music of water. The glistening eyes of the kids and their parents said it all!

As I ruminated over these things, the slot was about to end. A few minutes were left only. Another instructor came. He signaled Viplav's instructor to finish the lesson. But the instructor asked him to look at the watch. Still, four minutes were left. He completed the full slot. I just wondered about this wonderful sense of work culture at the school. Anyway, our child came out of the water, all beaming. We too were happy to be witnesses of this wonderful experience.

One more thing. I noted that the instructors were all young and energetic. And they seemed to belong to different cultures, were of different colors. The same was the case with the parents who came from different cultural backgrounds. No color prejudice, no cultural discrimination. A true rainbow culture. Or shall I call Canada a melting pot of diverse cultures creating a new dish with a unique aroma?