So rafting was never on my list.
A few friends went every year, came back thrilled, and I’d nod along, thinking it wasn’t for me. I had a gut feeling about it. The kind that doesn’t shift no matter how many times the subject comes up.
Eighteen years ago, I ignored it. It nearly cost me my life.
How I Ended Up on That Raft
I made a trip to Mussoorie with friends. Rafting was a late addition to the itinerary. For them, not me.
I’d find something to do while they were on the water.
I can’t tell you exactly what happened in the gap between that decision and the moment I found myself sitting in a raft. Someone made a case. I didn’t want to be the reason the plan changed.
And so I folded — not because I was convinced, but because I didn’t want them to miss the thrill because of me.
Gautam, Rahul and I set off with a guide who drilled us with a mock run before we pushed off. Forward, Back Paddle, Stop. By the time we stopped en route to pick up more passengers, we had a rough feel for it.
Before any of that, I had pulled the guide aside.
“I can’t swim,” I told him. “I’m anxious about safety.”
“Follow my instructions,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
The Group That Joined Us
The additions were boisterous — the kind who treat an adventure sport like a Sunday outing. They boarded with snacks, soft drinks, the works. I heard a young boy ask his aunt if she had packed his Kurkure, and I couldn't quite decide whether to find it funny or alarming.
The guide repeated the instructions for the new group. I watched their faces. A few weren’t really listening.
That bothered me more than the river itself.
When someone asked about rapids to watch out for, the guide named two: Roller Coaster and Golf Course. I logged both immediately. My mind wouldn’t settle until they were behind us.
Golf Course
We cleared the Roller Coaster. I exhaled.
The guide kept his eyes on the water ahead. Golf Course was next, and whatever ease had crept into the group after the first rapid, this wasn’t the moment for it. But a few members of the group who had joined us weren’t fully on board.
Whether they were distracted, or simply hadn’t absorbed the instructions, or assumed the hard part was behind them — I can’t say for certain.
What I remember is that when the guide's instructions mattered most, not everyone was following them. Two members of that group were doing their own thing entirely, indifferent to what was being called out. In a raft, that's enough to go south.
The vessel tilted.
Panic moved through us fast. The guide was shouting, but the moment had already moved beyond shouting. The raft overturned, throwing all of us into the Ganga.
The life jackets meant drowning wasn’t the immediate danger.
But the force of the water was something I hadn’t imagined. It simply blew you away. Some of us grabbed the rope along the exterior of the overturned raft to avoid being swept away.
The guide screamed at us to let go — he and Gautam were trying to right it.
A few heard. Some couldn’t bring themselves to release the only solid thing within reach. I let go.
The current swept me away.
My left leg hit a rock beneath the surface. The pain was sharp but irrelevant. I was running out of energy, and the bank wasn’t anywhere close.
That’s when Rahul appeared.
My Saviour
He couldn’t swim.
He had his own situation to manage. And yet he found me in that water, gripped my arm, and used what was left of his energy to move us both toward a large rock about a hundred metres away. In that current, what is ordinarily not too far away seemed like completing a marathon.
We eventually made it.
Breathing came back slowly. A rescue raft arrived within minutes. I had one slipper.
My leg was badly bruised.
When we reached the endpoint, Gautam was already there. We got into the car, hit the road, and somewhere along the way started laughing — the Kurkure, the aunt trying to stand up mid-rapid, the whole sequence of it.
I made a promise to myself that day. No more rafting. Eighteen years on, I haven’t broken it.
What I Keep Revisiting
Rahul saved me.
I think about that whenever this story surfaces. But there’s something else I think about. I knew before I got on that raft.
That this wasn’t for me.
I’d had it for years, and it hadn’t moved. And then someone made a case, and I went along. Not because I was persuaded, but because saying no denied others a shot at adventure.
Your gut knows things. Not everything, and not always — but when it appears, it's usually worth listening to. I learned that soaking wet, one slipper short, on a riverbank in the Himalayas.
Sometimes that’s what it takes.
Nuggets From Lived Experiences — weekly reflections on life, as it actually happens.
About Me
I am a thinker at all times. I see, I think. I hear, I think. I read, I think. Every weekend I write. I would love to know what you think.