FINDERS-KEEPERSWe came up with
whimsical names
for the dive sites
we discovered inthe Lakshadweep,
such as Sting Ray
City, Garden of
Eden, East of
Eden, Classroom,
Double Reef, and
North Cave.sea, “My friend can’t swim
in the middle of the ocean.”
Vitry looked at us both, shook
his head in despair, and told
Upoor, “No problem. You
come with me. I take you fi rst.”
Before Upoor could protest,
the Frenchman infl ated his
BCD (buoyancy control device)
and bundled him off the boat.
After a bit of splashing around,
the two disappeared into the
blue, leaving me peering into
the depths. Around 20 minutes
later, they both surfaced with a
whoosh, and to my great relief,
Upoor was alive and smiling in
a slightly insane manner.
“So how was it?”
“Brilliant!” he replied
in his slightly dismissive,
laconic manner.
I knew I couldn’t chicken
out now. Guarding my goolies,
I jumped off the boat clutching
my breathing apparatus as
if my life depended on it (itdid!). As Vitry defl ated my
BCD and took me under, I
stopped breathing, thinking
I should conserve my air.
The Frenchman waved a
teacher-like fi nger at me and
signalled that I should keep
breathing. I let go of a lungful
and replaced it with another,
overcompensating in panic
mode, and started fl oating
up. Vitry looked at my panic-
stricken eyes and gestured
that I should relax.
As I descended, I saw
something fl uttering on
the reef. Somehow, I swam
towards the object, a book
in Urdu. As I ran out of air,
with most of it depleted in my
surface-level anxiety, we both
came up to the surface with
the book pressed against my
chest. It was a Quran. Thus
started my unlikely journey
towards setting up the fi rst
Indian dive school in the unionterritory of Lakshadweep—on
Kadmat Island, which boasted
a commanding Muslim
majority. Prophetic event or
just a coincidence? Nobody
knows. Of course, it would
take us nearly four years and
certifi cations as dive masters
with His Royal Baldness to get
there. This is the story of our
fi rst explorations.
When the 10 of us,
including my wife, were done
with Vitry’s commando-
like dive master training,
we acquired a bunch of
marine charts to look at the
possibility of diving in the
Indian Ocean. This is when
we stumbled upon the coral
islands of Lakshadweep on
a merchant marine chart;
most people hadn’t heard of
the islands and no one really
knew how to get there.
In those days, the only
tours to the restricted islandswere heavily supervised and
totally government-run. After
a year of red tape, we managed
to get the permits required
to go to the islands as an
independent group of divers
gauging the possibility of
commercial diving.
We set off by train to Kochi,
loaded with diving equipment,
a small compressor, and
other supplies, then hopped
on the rusty ‘Tipu Sultan,’ an
old cross-channel car ferry
converted into a passenger
ship. As we sailed into the sun,
the muddy waters gave way to
an aquamarine sea. Our fi rst
stop was Kavaratti Island, the
capital of the union territory.Anemonefi sh make for a common
sighting in Lakshadweep.
Top: The coral islands are blessed
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