The Coward and the Fool

This wednesday, Nag and I did something we've both been planning to do for months but somehow just never went ahead with it: we went to the Ice Rink for a skating session. I've been a roller skating buff for years and this was only my second time on the ice, so I was really looking forward to it. It was Nag's second time (or third?) as well, but he said the last time he stepped onto an ice rink it was a disaster; I didn't press for details. He seemed enthusiastic about it now; what else mattered?

I learnt roller skating by myself when I was a kid, in my backyard with my brother, and in the backyard of my grandparent's house in Salem, with my cousins. When I was slightly older, I received more proper coaching at the social club established by the same uncle. The first thing the horrified instructor did on watching me skate was to make me unlearn whatever I'd taught myself. Sure enough, in a month's time I found myself able to go faster and manouevre more easily, and skating became double the fun it already was.

Have you ever dreamed of flying? Of leaving behind the shackles of the world - and I don't mean merely gravity and friction - and spending time in exhilarated ecstacy, just you and the wind, dancing with carefree abandon? The nearest you can get to that is by skating. Fantasy and creativity and imagination were the bread and butter of my childhood, and I've always revelled in going beyond the confining real world. Perhaps they still are, in a limited way. The freedom and joy I associated with skating is hard to describe to anyone unlike me.

In IIT Madras, I would occasionally skate around the campus in the evenings, while pedestrians looked at me as though I were an alien. I particularly remember one little kid, probably from the slum dwellings behind the campus, looking at me with open awe and jealousy, pestering me with inane questions. There was another occasion when a man stopped me and asked me how much roller skates cost; he couldn't afford much but apparently his son had seen someone roller skating (perhaps me!) and couldn't stop talking about it, and being a loving father he wished to buy him a pair of skates if he could afford it. But bystanders aside, the times I really enjoyed myself was when I had some friend accompany me on my rounds. Like laughter, and all simple pleasures in life, the joy of skating multiplies instead of dividing itself when you share it with others.

Ice skating takes roller skating to new levels of freedom and elation. I vividly remember the first time I went ice skating, in San Francisco. I did nothing more than get the feel of it and how different it was from what I'm accustomed to; I skated around simply, doing nothing fancy, and used the hand rails to stop when I had to. I didn't fall down once. But I was beaming like a kid, and was positively disappointed when it was time to go.

I made up for it completely when I stepped on the ice this time. I skated at speeds pretty close to what I'm used to at roller blading, even at the curves. I tried the spin-stop several times, and even tried skating backward (unsuccessfully, I might add). I fell down so many times that I lost count. I was having so much fun that while the speakers crooned "Cecilia" by Simon and Garfunkel, my thoughts drifted to the Cecilia of PhD Comics and I missed a rough spot on the ice and took a bad sprawl just as they were singing, "I'm down on my knees...". Well... my palms were a bit grazed and my knees felt beat but, heck, I was grinning and was skating around merrily in a trice!

And all this time, Nag was at the corner, walking around in slow circles around the rink with the comforting support of the hand rails. I stopped after every round or two at his side to offer a tip or a word of advice, and encouraged him to leave the boards and come to the centre. "Do you know what's the best way to teach swimming?" I asked, "Throwing the person into the deep. Now leave the darn rails and come to the middle, it doesn't matter if you fall. You're 23, it can't hurt that much!" All to no avail.

I requested and I encouraged. I coaxed and I cajoled. I threatened and pretended to be a meanie. Nothing worked. He steadfastedly plodded away at the edge, accepting what meagre skating tips I could offer - remember this was only my second time on the ice - and making an attempt to learn, but determinedly at his own pace. As a nasty last resort, I tried to embarrass him into coming to the middle... I asked one of the rink staff, within earshot of Nag, to "Convince my friend to leave the rails," and his reply was, "Can't help you there, he's just gotta do it." And then I pointedly showed him all the little kids who were skating like champs out there in the middle. Perhaps I could appeal to his male ego in this convoluted fashion. Nope, no luck.

I gave up and concentrated on having fun myself, stopping by every other round to offer a word of encouragement, until it was time to leave. He could read my thoughts. "Coward!" my eyes said. He said aloud, words to the effect, "Look, you've been roller skating for years, you have a sense of balance. The closest I've ever come to doing that is riding a bicycle. Surely you can understand that if I step into the middle without figuring out the basics, I'll only end up hurting myself?" He didn't have to say them; I'm fully aware of the facts. He said them anyway. I understood, but I still thought he was being a coward.

We had lunch and paid a visit to the public library to get some books and video tapes. Before leaving, he cryptically went to the children's section and took a book. I saw the title. It was a beginner's guide to ice skating.

It struck me then that he wasn't being cowardly. He was adult enough to be determined to learn this little thing; and he was adult enough to not be embarrassed by the things I did at the rink. He was just being plain sensible. Perhaps I'm the one being reckless and foolish. Every fibre of my being rebelled against that thought, saying that only after burning one's fingers does one fully learn to make, use and appreciate a fire. Only by falling will you learn.

Perhaps he is a coward, perhaps he isn't. Perhaps I'm a reckless fool and perhaps I'm not. Who's to say? People are different. People have their own, different ways of getting things done.

I realized then, with a start, how my own way of getting things done has changed. Even a couple of years ago, I would not have fallen down that many times in 90 minutes in a skating rink, under the same circumstances. Irrespective of the joys and freedom of skating, I had my methodical, rational way of approaching any problem. It was the way I grew up. By making my brain do the ground work before the body did anything. People often mistook my reticence for... well, God only knows what! But where was that boy now?

Recall my post "I'll never learn". It bespeaks an impulsive nature (which by the way is totally unlike me). And I really keep doing them! Only last week, I contradicted my professor in class again, and tripped on an icy patch near my apartment, AGAIN. There are a couple of other things I cannot speak of here, but they definitely spell R.E.C.K.L.E.S.S. in bright red letters. A year ago, not a soul who knew me even a bit would ever call me a reckless fool. Yet, now I know with full certainty that I am one... at least by my own standards.

What wrought this change upon me? Has my mind found an outlet to rant and rail and rave against the world for all its injustices perceived by my sub-conscious? Why am I clinging on to this thread of childishness when the rest of my mind and heart and body have matured into full adulthood?

I seem to be starting each new day with more questions than the last. God save me, for I don't even know myself any more.

Prashanth.