Reusing disposables

J. B. D'Souza


An evening in May 1986. I was strolling along Juhu beach. Suddenly, out at sea beyond the waves, I spotted a swimmer struggling for his life, his arms flailing above the water and his voice just audible as he screamed for help. I raced to where a little boy was playing with a fully inflated car tube, to take it out to the frantic swimmer. The boy demurred. The tube, he said, had a tiny puncture; it would probably fill with water instead of helping the swimmer. In this desperate crisis I thought the risk was well worth taking. But while our argument continued, a powerful swimmer went out and made the rescue.

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