PA who….me?

It is not without reason that my husband calls me PA…no, PA is not taken from the Hindi film that created awareness of progeria…PA simply means prone to accidents. Considering the number of narrow escapes I’ve had I can’t blame him either. I’m now going to narrate the incident when I was attacked by a jelly fish in the middle of the Bay of Bengal! Well, what was I doing there, you may ask? I had intended to go for a swim and join my family and friends who were already neck deep in water and having a wonderful time.

This strange experience happened to me in 1998. We were stationed at Port Blair, A&N Islands, where my husband was a Branch Manager for SBI and I was a lecturer at the only PG College in the island. We had made a host of very good friends during our three year stint there. One amongst them was Dr M, CMO at Port Blair and later Mayabunder, and his charming family. At their insistence we decided to visit Mayabunder and instead of going by boat we decided to take a bus ride over 230 kms of the most pristine and wonderful terrain provided on God’s land.

Dr and Mrs M belong to that rare category of people who have the ability to strike up an instant rapport with anybody they meet. Warm and generous they were our friend, philosopher and of course local guide all rolled into one. We shared some of the most memorable and hilarious times in their company while at Port Blair. They have twin girls who are about the same age as my elder daughter…my little one, three years younger, would tag along and be pampered by them all. So, as you may well imagine, we were all looking forward to spending a blissful weekend at Mayabunder.

Dr M, fondly called, “daktar” in Bangla, had made wonderful arrangements for us. Leaving my mother-in-law comfortably ensconced in the pretty little guest house we decided to have a picnic by the sea-side. Off we went with a picnic hamper filled with the most delicious food that Mrs M had cooked for us. Eight of us crammed in an Ambassador car talking and laughing at the top of our voices- in short, having a jolly good time. We arrived at the sea beach full of vim and vigour and the kids along with the gents made straight for the sea.

We ladies busied ourselves in getting things ready for when the kids would come back from their swim ravenous and tired. Everything more or less in order Mrs M headed for the sea as well. I held back wanting to change before getting into the water. That is how I was the last one left on the shore and had become isolated from the gang further away having a whale of a time. Finally, I started walking over the sand feeling it scrunch under my feet…the breeze from the sea teased my long plaited hair…the sun felt warm and soothing on my skin…ah, life was good! I shivered slightly as my feet touched the cold water and the salt sprayed onto my face.

The children were beckoning to me to hurry up…but I was enjoying my slow and deliberate approach to the sea. I was now in knee deep water and had to struggle a bit against the waves to get further in. I looked only towards the laughing joyous group of people about 50 meters away from me and was about to break into a swim when for the first time I felt the tentacles on my feet…at first I thought that it was some weed that had washed up and my feet unknowingly had stepped on it. But no, the weed seemed to be climbing up my leg and tightening its hold on my ankle and calf…then I felt the pain and the burning sensation…almost like poison ivy being rubbed on my skin.

What on earth is this I thought? I bend down and tried to get it off my leg but I couldn’t get it to unwind…strands like soft mush came off in my desperately groping fingers. The thing just wound harder and harder round my leg and I couldn’t keep balance and fell into the water. Struggling to keep my head above the water I yelled for help…coz I knew instinctively that this was something that I couldn’t manage alone.

Within minutes my husband and daktar were right next to me. I kept pulling off the mush and saying that it hurt… One look at what I had been trying to untangle and tearing off Dr M cursed under his breath and said, “Hurry up and raise your leg above the water…you’ve been attacked by a jelly fish…” What? A jelly fish…that cute parachute like sea creature? Could it hurt so much? By now, my leg had started to feel numb save for the red hot burning sensation that brought tears to my eyes. 

They pulled me out of the water and then I caught sight of my leg for the first time. Some of the tentacles still held fast on to my calf and shin though the rest of the jelly fish was gone…and the marks that it had left were like tiny red punctures all along the vice-like grip they had of my leg. Thankfully sea water is saline and it did the job of disinfecting the wound rightaway. Thank God too, that we had a doctor close at hand who immediately took me to the hospital and dressed the affected area and gave me an antidote shot so that the poison would not cause greater damage.

The creepy feeling I had when I remembered the strands of the jelly fish’s tentacles coming off in my hand stayed with me and made me nauseous for many years. And the affected portion of my leg took almost a year to heal completely and for the puncture marks to go. This time around I had been let off lightly. I later researched and learnt that a certain type of jelly fish venom is the deadliest in the whole animal kingdom and if administered in sufficient amounts can kill by causing anaphylactic shock.

So the epithet that my husband uses for me “PA” is, perhaps, well warranted. Only I’ve made a slight alteration in my mind, I don’t dare say it aloud lest I hear some derisive snorts; PA for me stands not for ‘prone to accident’ but for prone to ADVENTURE!

And here I raise a toast to my adventurous, blithe spirit… Salut!