Special Section: Shernaz Wadia

Shernaz Wadia

The Stab of the Sea

petrified by the shimmering blue,

her lips taut like her stiff pig-tails

she stands still, listening to the squawking gulls

the shore- lapping foam brings up a memory

of frothy ‘puffs’ peaking over sweetened milk

mom’s special treat on cold winter morns

and of the smell of tiny fish fed to the birds

like wreckage cast out by the depths

flotsam emotions jostle, 

two salty drops fall on the wet sand 

she hears her mother’s warm voice

reading from Jonathan Livingston Seagull

now communicating in the long calls of the gulls

“Be brave. Even in the darkest storms millions of stars 

will smile and offer you their blessings, my child” 

 

Her shattered spirit is not soothed.

shells and flora adorning the sands behind her

do not entice - she is floundering deep down

She cannot turn around… her sorrow must stay hidden

 “Oh Mother beloved! My tears come unbidden.

I miss you so! The sand tickles my toes no more

The effervescence of this moment,

the dramatic clouds that left you spell-bound

now throttle my being and make me cry…  

Why will not this cruel sea bring you back?”

***

The Go-Getter

She gazed at the clouds… soft, cottony, multi-hued like her dreams… down at the water… lapping, foaming at her feet, oblivious of her shoes getting wet. The depth in her eyes was proportionate to the distance to the horizon. Not the eyes of a mere dreamer… there was steel in them, the resolve of a doer. She knew even at that tender age that she would have to walk her path on her own feet, not with the aid of any crutches. Her greatness and achievement would be entirely hers.

Pragati let the sand run through her fingers. Her vision now recorded only vitreous floaters in place of objects… The image of the little girl and her braids faded from her fixed vision. It was a mental projection of herself as she had stood there years back, dreaming… Her father was a small time businessman, her mother a professor of English.  Pragati – a big time, ambitious girl! The sea called her. Not to sail. To plummet into its depths and learn the secrets of her favourite eco-system.

With supportive parents she enrolled in the Cochin University of Science and Technology.  After a year of doing general courses, she was hooked onto the study of seaweeds – the fascinating targets of natural products research. She knew this – they needed brackish water, sunlight and rocky shores to which they could attach themselves. 

She had attached herself to Namrata, her closest study partner as also a soul mate. They had become inseparable as they went off early, during ebb tide to find samples of algae in the intertidal zones. Sometimes they ventured out further into the water. And returned, to the lab bubbly, hopeful, enthused with novice fervor.  They were immersed in research and in each other; collecting data, analyzing and experimenting with life too. 

In the first year they had painstakingly written out and studied its structure and garnered valuable information about the algae. They were acutely aware that other than being food webs for marine life, seaweeds are used as food additives and have medicinal value too. Interesting! It made them re-examine the interlacing of our ecological relationships and stimulated a heightened sense of responsibility. 

Now they were studying and experimenting with the reproductive system of these photosynthetic organisms, which contrary to popular belief are not plants. Algae reproduce through three main methods: vegetative, asexual and sexual reproduction. This would be exciting, they reflected.

There were disappointments and failures galore with their experiments. It was tantamount to attending umpteen funerals. At times there was a flicker of hope, at others a small flame illuminated the needed darkness.

One day, Vivek walked into the dining hall. Glum faced he announced “I flunked again today”. He was a newbie and they smiled empathetically.

 “We are all with you. It is only the buoy of encouragement and hope that is keeping us afloat,” offered Shubham.  This kind of interaction and bonding kept the students from giving up entirely. 

Persevering and diligent, Namrata and Pragati got their B.Sc. degrees and decided to go to the Dept. of Marine Science, Berhampur University, Odisha to do their Masters. From there it would be off to Tasmania for Pragati. Her name meant progress. A comparative education of the maritime eco-systems of India and Australia seemed the next best thing. 

She was her family’s pride. She wondered how they would respond to her sexual preferences.

 “Hey, guys.”  The lesbians breezed in one evening, “How many of you would like to join the Odisha Rainbow Collective? They are holding a medical education session here in Behrampur” they chimed holding hands. “We know some of you were there for the Queer Pride Parade in June.”  

Some signed up readily. A few walked out. No comments, no judgment. The attractively swarthy Swathi, stood there trying to get Namrata’s attention. She glared at Pragati who stood possessively between them, warding off Swathis’s advances towards Namrata.  The two lovers hugged ignoring her; Swathi fumed out. A dark pall fell in her wake. They scoffed. They did not need anyone’s validation to be themselves.

The session was a few weeks away but Namrata had wriggled her way into the core group. She was falling behind in her studies. She promised Pragati she would catch up. Pragati smiled benignly. They had travelled between different versions of each other and had learnt to respect them.

The term was coming to an end soon and they looked forward to returning home for the vacation. But destiny had planned differently.

~ * ~ * ~

Pragati stumbled in unannounced, earlier than expected. Her parents were almost paralysed when they heard “I am not returning to the University” scratched out of  her throat. It was the illegible chaos of expressions on her face that made them gasp. She couldn’t define the oppressive existential paradox that she had been hit by. What had led to it was an acidic imprint etched indelibly on her psyche. Just as suddenly she stormed out of the house and ran towards the beach, cheeks drenched. 

They had found tetrodotoxin in lifeless Namrata’s blood the same day that a blue-ringed octopus and Swathi had mysteriously disappeared from the campus.

***

Bio: For Shernaz Wadia, from Pune, India, reading and writing, has meant embarking on an inward journey of self-discovery. She hopes her words will bring peace, hope and light into dark corners.  

She has been widely published in Indian and international e-journals, websites and anthologies. She has published her own book of poems "Whispers of the Soul" and two volumes of "Tapestry Poetry - A Fusion of Two Minds" co-authored with her poetry partner Avril Meallem from Israel. Tapestry is an innovative, collaborative genre of poetry composition created by Avril and Shernaz.

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Setu, November 2025