Wednesday, 25 September 2013 10:29 GFP Columnist - Haresh Daswani
There's something quite poetic about the deep blue sea.

The deep blue sea, the deep blue sea.

I swim in azure monotone even when the sky is bright, and the ground below isn't. The world of fish surrounds me yet I am alone, a tank on my back yet nothing to return to after. When the air is all gone, I die.

And yet in this deep blue sea I am an observer, a ghost to the fishes who seem to know not of my existence, but who waylay through their own in their own poetic amnesia of 30 seconds or less. Who has time to remember anyway? Memories are selective and biased after all.

 You seek to find color and yet the school of fish seeks conformity through a gray, communist uniform. They swim with the current, following the wave and ignore everything else.

The world of living things regardless tends to largely be very single minded, actually. Purpose built to follow and swim, or fall off and be eaten.

There are sharks everywhere. They are very misunderstood creatures; but who would like to take the risk to get to know them over coffee in Italy? None.

I watch frustrated bottle nosed dolphins irritating the seas with their permanent marker noised voices, swimming along with no real idea that they are the geniuses of the sea. They swim with a frustration of communication or lack thereof. Who wants to talk to someone who sounds like a squeaky toy anyway?

The colors and waves, those that say hello and goodbye above are underlying currents of events below from gravity and inconsistencies and ripples from movements and stagnation. The world moves you to conform or you can choose to swim on your own, take your time to smell the rose colored corals. You can choose to just swim faster, faster, and faster, until the swarm of fish becomes but a blur.

You, after all, make your own choices. You only have 3 hours of air in your tank. You have 3 hours of life remaining.

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