It was a wonderful place to stay, most of the other fishes said. There was sand below them, an air pump at one corner that gave out immense bubbles every second and a small statue of a boy at a corner. In the centre, scattered about, were some seashells and a huge Ferris wheel that turned round once in a while when a fish swam close to it.

There was food for everyone - huge worms on some days, seafood on others. The food came in mysteriously - out from up there, beyond the water.

And the only time Gulpy and the other fish left the tank was when a huge net would scoop them up, and after a few seconds of waterless suffocation they would find themselves in a huge red enclosure.

Later, when the same net scooped them from the enclosure, they would suffer the same second or two of waterless suffocation before they found themselves back in the tank.

Gulpy always found the whole incident mysterious and amazing, but he noticed that the water in the tank was always much clearer, much cleaner after that.

In a way, Gulpy felt the visit to the red enclosure frightening - for he was always fearful that one day, instead of the second or two he spent in suffocation, he might even find himself stranded in the net, breathing his final death throes.

The fear of his fate, indeed his life being in the hands of some unknown force, frightened him.

He always spent the moments after this incident wondering about all this the feeling that his life and death lay in the unknown power that netted him, fed him, kept him.

The other fishes always dismissed him with their simple straight talk.

"Why worry about all this," said Blower, the goldfish, "we have food, a place to stay and we never have to do much but swim around."

Angie, the angelfish, dismissed him as crazy.

"Have you ever suffocated for long? Have you ever been starved?" Gulpy knew it was useless to argue.

They were right, but somehow he felt like a trapped person - someone who could only live as long as someone else could feed him.

He wanted something more to life. He was not sure how to express it.

"Freedom," said the Wise One, "you long for freedom.

It is not something new. Others have longed for it too."

Gulpy liked the Wise One. He was an old goldfish who had lived out the better years of his life in the tank. But it had not always been his home.

He often spoke of the great home beyond the tank. It was a vast expanse of water where you could swim forever without reaching an end. It was a place full of food and laughter. It was a place where you could move the way you liked, eat at the time you liked and never had to suffer the humiliation of being suffocated in a net. He called it the Great Pond.

Gulpy liked to hear the Wise One talk about the Great Pond. He and Skimpy would crowd round, enthralled as the Wise One spoke about life on the Great Pond.

The Wise one called the other fish complacent. He never asked what it meant; nor did Skimpy and Gulpy bother to ask.

To them only the Great Pond mattered. They wanted to go there, to be free from the tank. It hadn't changed for years.

At night when all the fish slept, Skimpy and Gulpy would plan how to reach the Great Pond. It was up there, the Wise One had said. It was not easy to reach but they would try.

It was Skimpy who made the first move. The Wise One had just finished telling them about the thousands of friends who swam in groups called schools when Skimpy put it to the Wise One.

"I wish to attempt the great try,' he said, "I want to he the first to lead the tank to freedom."

Surprisingly, the Wise One expressed no joy. His face betrayed no emotion. He simply warned Skimpy of the dangerous path and the great risks involved.

"There is absolutely no guarantee you'll reach freedom and the Great Pond. You might die along the way, the Wise One said. Gulpy found the mood surprising but he said nothing.

Al1 the fishes were there when Skimpy attempted his bid to go to the Great Pond.

He backed to the end of the tank, speeded out through the water upwards and vanished out of the tank. For a second only, because he soon plopped back into the water. He tried again and failed. But at the third try he succeeded.

He accelerated and vanished out of the tank. And he did not plop back.