Shaurya & The Shark Surprise

Shaurya and his twin brother Shravan were well-known kids in the village of Jalagram, nestled along a tributary of Chilika Lake in Odisha. Their father, Kishan ji, ran a community kitchen that began after the 1999 cyclone, when the village needed a shared space for meals and recovery. What started as a relief initiative, led by Kishan ji and supported by the village women, eventually became a thriving mess for local workers and schoolchildren.

Kishan ji dreamed of giving his sons the best education. While Shravan was drawn to books and stories, Shaurya had no love for school—he spent his days swimming and diving into ponds, his love for water growing with every breathless swim.

Every afternoon, when Shravan walked home from school, he wished to tell his brother about what he had learned and the stories he had come across. But instead of finding Shaurya at home, he would find him in the local pond with other village kids, dripping wet.

One day, while their Maa was cooking in the large kitchen and the cows with fresh milk were mooing in the shed beside it, Shaurya came and sat on one of the benches of the mess near Shravan, who was looking at a picture book he called an encyclopedia. Shaurya was peering at the book from afar when Shravan began explaining, as he always did:

“Look Bhaiya! Do you see this large fish? These are sharks—sharks of different kinds who are so dangerous, they can tear a man into two!”

“And look at those teeth!” exclaimed Shaurya, fascinated. “They look sharp and scary.”

“I’ll show you many more types of big fish from this book,” said Shravan, turning the page, but Shaurya had already lost interest and went off to look at the cows in the shed.

In a few years, Shaurya became an even better diver. Despite his father’s disapproval, he started swimming at the local pool, where kids would gather around to count the seconds he could stay underwater. Soon, seconds turned into minutes, and word of his special talent spread far and wide.

When Shaurya was fourteen, a diving competition was announced at the coast of Chilika Lake. Teenagers from many other districts participated, but no one was as young as Shaurya. The competition tested who could cover the greatest distance underwater. Boats with scuba divers and first-aid responders were stationed along the marked perimeter. Colored flags hung from ropes in the water marked distances: 70m, 100m, 120m, and finally 150m. Anyone who reached 70m would receive a certificate of appreciation.

Though Shaurya had held his breath underwater many times, he had never participated in a race like this. For the first time, the confident Shaurya was nervous—more because this time he would swim not in a pond or pool, but in the vast Chilika Lake. It wasn’t very deep, they said, but it was wide like a giant. Still, he practiced with fins on, and to his surprise, his father seemed excited about the competition too.

The family traveled to the lake a day before the event. It felt like a mini vacation—they packed food, carried beach mats and umbrellas. Early the next morning, when they reached the competition site, the whole place buzzed with preparations both on the banks and over the water.

Shaurya could see the distance-marking boats riding far into the lake. When they halted at the 70m mark, his heart began to race. Even that looked too far. Soon, all the other competitors arrived. They were much older—sixteen, eighteen, even nineteen.

He started doubting himself. “I’m sure they’re trained divers. They must have participated in such competitions before. I don’t have any such experience.”

“No, Shaurya,” said Shravan, “they can’t be better than you. You’ve been diving for so long—I’ve seen you hold your breath for more than eight minutes! I know you can do this.”

“And what if I fail?” said Shaurya.

“Even then, it’ll still be a great day for us—we’ll have fun at the coast, have a picnic, and go back home with memories.”

Shravan’s words relaxed Shaurya—not just because they were encouraging, but because they carried no heavy expectations. Shaurya finally made up his mind: he would give it his best. No matter the result, it would be a great learning experience.

At 8 a.m., Shaurya stood in line with the other five divers, each on a separate boat, away from the shallow bank. Onshore, the crowd of parents and spectators cheered. The organizer’s voice echoed over the microphone as he announced the rules.

Soon, the divers were in position with their fins on, ready to dive. The countdown began—ten… nine… eight… Shaurya noticed the sunrays glimmering over the lake… seven… six… five… his heart was pounding… four… three… two…

He took a deep breath.

One.

The whistle blew.

Shaurya saw the others jump first, and then he took another deep breath and dove in.

As his body hit the water, the tension in his muscles began to ease. He found himself surrounded by what he knew best—water. Although the others were already ahead, he quickly found his pace. Within a minute, he reached the 70m mark.

Boosted by confidence, he swam forward steadily, careful not to overexert himself. He was swimming at a depth of nearly 10 feet, with two divers slightly above him and another about three feet below.

Shaurya didn’t want to risk going deeper. This wasn’t a contest of depth, but of distance. Soon, he crossed the 100m mark, but now he could feel his lungs starting to give up.

He noticed the diver below him hadn’t slowed down, while the two above had surfaced. Now it was just the two of them. Suddenly, the diver below surged upward, swimming directly in front of Shaurya to block his path and stay ahead.

Shaurya didn’t respond. He was close to blacking out and decided to rise and quit.

Just when he moved to swim up, he saw something glide above him—at first he thought it was another diver.

Then came more—three, maybe four. Long fins. Curved backs.

Large fish.

His heart stopped.

Sharks. Just like the ones in Shravan’s book.

His limbs froze. A scream built in his throat but couldn’t escape.

Terrified, he swam deeper, trying to escape. He could feel the creatures leaping around him. Not knowing where he was going, he lost sight of the other diver, though he could still see the ripples made by the sharks. Two of them swam beside him now.

Panic-stricken, he sped up. He didn’t know which way he was heading—but finally, he spotted a scuba diver under a boat, possibly searching for him.

One of the fishes brushed past his shoulder. Its slick, muscular body slid against him like a shadow. His limbs froze, heart thudding in his ears.

As he neared, the diver caught sight of him and grabbed his arm. Together, they broke the surface.

When he came to, water was being poured into his mouth, his feet rubbed to bring him back. His vision blurred, then cleared, revealing the distant bank. He’d made it far—too far. A scuba diver beside him was shaking his head in disbelief.

“You just swam 160 meters,” he said. “You broke every record we’ve seen. How did you even do that?”

On the bank, his family wept—first from fear, then from overwhelming pride.

After all the praise, applause, and the trophy, the family sat down with the community to celebrate on the beach. Shaurya, still in disbelief, bit into his paneer roll and told his brother what had made him win.

“I was about to be killed by sharks! They were jumping around me!”

Shravan squinted toward the water. A few of the large fish leapt into the air, gliding and flipping.

“If you’re talking about them, Bhai,” he chuckled, “those aren’t sharks. They’re dolphins—the calmest of all fish.”

Shaurya froze, mouth half-open. “What?!”

Shravan burst into laughter, falling sideways onto the beach mat.

“Oh my God! I was scared for my life. I wish I had known!” said Shaurya.

“Bhai,” Shravan giggled, “for once, it was better that you didn’t know!”

Read the story in Hindi : शौर्य और शार्क सरप्राइज़