Anindya Dutta, Singapore, 27 September 2023
It is 1938. 8-year old Mihir Sen, the eldest of what would eventually be five siblings born into Dr. Romesh Sengupta’s household, arrives in Cuttack from Purulia in Bengal. He is a restless child with incredible energy.
The only time his mother can breathe a sigh of relief, is when he is in the water. Young Mihir is so enamoured and confident in the water that by the time he is 10, he is swimming without supervision not just in ponds but also near the banks of the Kathajodi river that flows through Cuttack.
Years later Sen will tell a Sportsworld reporter: “I don’t know why, but I was tremendously attracted to water. I felt absolutely comfortable in it. I was a natural swimmer. I felt that no harm could come to me. I felt at peace.”
While the swimming brings him momentary peace, Sen’s restlessness only grows with time. By the time he is 20, he has, on his mother’s insistence, enrolled in the law course at Ravenshaw College. But eating away inside him is a desperation to leave Cuttack, and see the big wide world that lies beyond.
Mihir Sen with his father
Convincing a tearful mother is one problem. Once that is taken care of, the bigger issue to be sorted is money. There is no way a middle class family in 1950s Odisha can afford to send a son to England, which is where Sen wants to go. It requires determination, ambition and out of the box thinking in equal measure. All of this, fortunately, comes naturally to him.
Enter the larger than life figure of Biju Pattnaik – fighter pilot, industrialist, statesman, politician, and one of the most popular men in Odisha. “He was dynamic. Over six feet tall, a fantastic character”, Sen would recall in his conversation with the Sportsworld. After much deliberation, he approaches Pattnaik and asks for assistance in going to Europe.
The first conversation doesn’t go well. Pattnaik hears him out and replies: “Europe, young man, why would you want to go to Europe? To have fun with the girls? Go away, there is no way that I can help you.”
Mihir Sen will not go away. Wherever Pattnaik goes over the next six months, the persistent young man follows – to the office, the club, the political rallies. “Go away Mr. Sen”, Pattnaik repeats in exasperation. The young man smiles, and appears again the next day.
Six months later, it is Biju Pattnaik who gives in. He invites Sen home and hands him a suitcase. “Young man, here is a suitcase and some money”, he says. “Now go to Bombay and contact my office, and they will give you the tickets for a ship going to London. This is your chance and make the best of it.”
At their house in Cuttack in 1956 with his sister in the background
21-year old Mihir Sen arrives in London. It is his first time abroad. He needs a job but knows no one there. Eventually, he finds a job at India House. He works nights and studies law during the day. The YMCA is nearby, and here he rediscovers his love for swimming. Then one day two years later, serendipity happens. On his way to work in the summer of 1953, Sen picks up a newspaper left on an adjoining seat. The front page carries a story about a young American, Florence Chadwick, and her struggles as she endeavours to conquer the English Channel. It gets Sen thinking.
“She was alone in the Channel. There was a boat with a red light in front and a red light at the back, but otherwise she was alone. It was cold and dark and miserable. A girl can do it. And I…why can’t I do it?”
That one bus journey changes his life. Until then swimming the English Channel was the farthest thing from his mind. Suddenly, it becomes the focal point around which his very existence revolves.
There is, however, one problem…again the old problem. Money.
The five pounds a week he earns is barely enough to sustain him. Once again, he thinks out of the box. He writes to the Prime Minister of India expressing his desire to swim the Channel. Sen asks for financial help explaining he wants to do the nation proud by becoming the first Indian to swim the English Channel. He doesn’t expect the letter to ever reach Nehru. Somehow, it does. And Nehru responds.
The response from the Prime Minister is encouraging. It promises a small government stipend that allows Sen to start training. But it’s not enough to afford a trainer or a coach. So he reads books, watches others swim, and teaches himself the American crawl with which the Channel is usually tackled.
After a swim…
On the 15th of August 1955, Mihir Sen makes his first attempt to swim from France to England. The direction is relatively easier to traverse and favoured by most swimmers. The choice of dates, is of course symbolic. It is India’s 8th anniversary of independence from the British and Sen wants to make it special for his countrymen. It is going to be his own little contribution to the nation’s tryst with destiny.
With 2.5 miles to go, a huge storm breaks out, the waters, as Sen describes later, become a “raging hell”. Swimming is now impossible. Sen is picked up by the boat and his crossing remains incomplete. Over the next three years, he fails four more times.
Five years after he made his first attempt, instead of giving up, Mihir Sen decides to raise the bar for himself. He now pledges to swim the more difficult direction, from England to France.
In early September 1958 he tries the crossing twice. And doesn’t make it. He has now failed seven times to cross the channel. Just one more attempt, he tells himself.
So on the 26th of September 1958 Mihir Sen begins his swim from Dover. In front of him stretches 53 kilometres of deep, snake infested waters. Cold. Colder than he’s ever experienced. Utterly alone, he moves towards his destination, stroke by relentless stroke. Driven by intent, fuelled by resilience, Mihir Sen swims, steadily, smoothly, faster, than he ever has. 14 hours and 45 minutes later, shivering and exhausted, Sen staggers onto a deserted section of the French coast near the port of Calais. His friend who had been following him in a small boat, joins him on the shore. Together, they hold up a soggy tricolour, and in Sen’s words, “sing rapturously a few lines of our rousing anthem, ignoring the deafening roar of the English Channel.”
Sen is widely feted. He is a national hero, and over the next few years, swims the seven seas. The Government of India confers him with the Padma Shri in 1959 and Padma Bhusan in 1967. He eventually becomes a successful entrepreneur in Calcutta.
Receiving the Padma Shri
And then the combination of a series of vindictive actions by Bengal’s Left Front government when he refuses to join them, bankrupts him. A festering dispute with the LIC of India (that his daughter Supriya continues to fight today) regarding his home, brings it all crashing down. Sen is afflicted with Parkinson’s and passes on in relative obscurity, well before his time.
Over the years, Mihir Sen and his deeds have been largely forgotten. But that is a travesty. Sen’s achievements go far beyond swimming the English Channel or even the seven seas. He deserves to be recognized as a beacon of hope and determination for the India we have inherited. He needs to be held up as an example of what we can truly achieve as a people when we set our minds and our heart to it.
Soon after crossing the English Channel, Sen had said: “My victory is indeed, a victory of the youth of India. If in spite of the ignorance of basic swimming skill and hordes of frustrating handicaps besetting me at every step, I could conquer the English Channel, my generation in India has nothing to be afraid of. Because if they only DARE, they will also DO! And together we can burn a blazing trail across the horizons of History……”
65-years after he stepped on to the rocky French coast, thousands of miles away from the cold waters conquered through sheer grit and determination, Sen’s dream for the youth of India is alive and well.
Every time Mirabai Chanu steps on to an Olympic podium; every punch Mary Kom throws in a World Championship; every time Satwik and Chirag light up the court with their brilliance; every extra yard Neeraj Chopra throws the javelin, we as a nation must remember Mihir Sen, the man who made the unimagined possible.
