And Beyond

By Pardesi PN

AND BEYOND a seafarer s saga

AND BEYOND is a journey of the author s experience, balancing life between professional, personal and materialistic attributes of responsibility, and the unseen reality of what Life is all about.

Taking guidance from the profound scriptures available around us, and going by their mysterious and remarkable spiritually charged environs and their message, the author has decimated the same into his Quest, thereby reforming his co-ordinates to accept and confirm to the ultimate Wisdom, and its relevance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Notion Press
• Release date: May 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9789384878962

Book preview

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Chapter 1

The momentary movement of the clouds, which had eclipsed the sun for the past few days, gave hope – making it seem that the sun had the power to clear the skies and calm the Atlantic. The sea was rough, with waves rising larger and higher than our ship. We were loaded to fairly full capacity, and every heave reminded the motley crew on board of the vessel’s unfortunate timing in crossing the ocean. Every roll went past its safe tilt of 22 degrees, only to accelerate its rebound to a dangerous 30-plus degrees. The books in the cupboards, cutlery in the kitchen and the men themselves were thrown out of their secured station, with some of the untended tackle and gear moving about like unidentified weapons embarking on an untimely ambush. The loaded ship rose into the air as we rode crest upon crest; then, the downward slide would begin – slowly at first then a mighty splurge to emerge out of the ungainly waters with buoyancy that would thrill ship-construction engineers and ship owners in to acknowledging smiles and Bizarre gratification. Not for the last time, every soul on board would chant, Eh! This is final. No more of this life. No more sea life. Enough is enough!

The passage across the Atlantic takes around 10 days on a container liner, weather conditions permitting. The voyage was a long 18 days until we reached the Rock of Gibraltar, where the actual entry into the Atlantic began. As charts would indicate, and traffic would as well, we were sometimes close to some foreign coastline. This in itself gave an assurance that would otherwise go unnoticed – that there was safe harbour in sight. Once we departed from the Rock of Gibraltar, the assurances were lost. Foraying into the open ocean is something else – ignorance is bliss. Ten days seem an eternity in bad weather, when common denominators like sleep, food and routine are seldom in place. Work was like a blessing, one that allowed us to get through a few hours. Thankfully, there was no panic as the lot were a pack of seasoned sea dogs, but apprehension hung in the air.

There was a visible slowdown in the crew’s regular functions, but we had to carry on. The four-hour shifts we were assigned had to be increased, so as to attend to unforeseen contingencies and maintain a proper lookout. The inclement weather added to our misery, converting ordinary tasks into defying challenges. There was a sense of determination in the crew’s bearing and stance, in tackling their assigned duties – inexplicably defining their actual designation, an Ab (short for able-bodied seaman). It requires grit and tolerance to be an Ab, and in times like these, they were Indispensable. Their craggy faces said it all.

At long last, the weather cleared up for a bit, and the sun shone on the sea. The Atlantic appeared to calm down for a bit and we settled into a breezy bay. The worst was over; we were sure to dock in a couple of days. The manifest declared a two-day stay while cargo was moved in and out. In the meantime, lists were drawn to attend to maintenance and damage control, leaving us exasperated and exhausted. Almost immediately, the strenuous passage across the Atlantic was forgotten, with the never-ending priorities taking preference. There was an incessant but impractical demand to compress the execution of several jobs at the same time. We had to take in water, bunkers (fuel), provisions, stores, lubes and mail within a same span, as well as attend to technicians, engine and machinery maintenance, repairs, surveys, visits from office personnel and, most importantly, load or unload the cargo. This, in turn, called for tallying, ballasting or de-ballasting, lashing on deck, loosen and tighten ropes. Sometimes, we managed to have a cup of tea or a quick bite in between.

A few hours of rest, then we liked to go onshore to spend on unwanted things, swooping down on a watering hole to regale ourselves with stories about the tough nuts we were and how we had miraculously sailed our vessel across the mighty Atlantic.

The following day, in a deep hangover, we hurriedly attended to our chores. There was very little talk; it was imperative to stay focused. With hardly any incidents, all was boxed up, tried out and readied. The TV, newspapers and the people around reminded us that we are in an alien land, and now was the time to indulge. There is a lovely saying in the local dialect: A man’s true character can be ascertained by the fish he buys. And we were buying fish in a land where there was enough in terms of slits and sizes. By evening, we found ourselves in a gaudy, noisy strip joint, ogling at the sensuous dancers on stage.

With the usual banter, with several of us bragging big, we went back to hauling ropes and greasing moving parts. There was a boisterous camaraderie among the crew, recounting tales that were largely exaggerated but, nevertheless, tolerated. Parties were the impromptu sequesters to keep things going, adding color and luster to an otherwise mundane existence. It was amazing to realize that the mates we worked with were not known to one another at all, and the chances of meeting or working with them again was a distant possibility. Life goes on, the ship crosses other oceans, another voyage is completed, and it’s time to go home.

Chapter 2

On another ship, a mid-size bulk carrier on which I was a junior officer, we loaded wheat for the port of Odessa. The voyage was for 22 days, through the Bhosphorous Straits, passing by the beautiful city of Istanbul and transiting through the Black sea. It was undoubtedly the most picturesque and enchanting voyage ever. We reached Odessa late one night, and anchored outside while awaiting instructions. After a few days, some inspectors boarded and took samples of the grain from various cargo holds. Finally, after an exasperating six-day wait, we were instructed to proceed to Leningrad (formerly St. Petersburg), to discharge the cargo. We would have to sail from southern to northern Russia, circumventing through the Mediterranean, the English Channel and finally the Kiev canal. It took a good 12 days, including stopovers and berthing at Leningrad.

Leningrad is one of the most beautiful cities in the word. It is home to the Hermitage –the finest and largest museum in the world, and several castles, cathedrals (only for viewing) and exquisite palaces. Even among those in the marine field, only a fortunate few are rewarded with such destinations. We were the most fortunate among those – it was announced that the ship had to be fumigated, so the entire crew had to be evacuated and accommodated in a hotel for two weeks. So, we were in Leningrad, in a 3-star hotel, with no work for two weeks. Atrocious, my friends would say, pink with envy.

The next few days were filled with exploring the city and countryside, taking full advantage of the tourist system in Russia, which is affordable, well planned and comfortable. Russia is a numero uno tourist destination for its impeccable detail and outstanding coverage. It was the last days of summer, so it became dark by 11, while the day began at four –the smallest nights I had ever experienced. The evenings called for jovial rendezvous at the Seamen’s Club, enthralling in the loud music, dance and generous pitchers of fresh orange juice with unlimited Stolichnaya vodka.

After a couple of evenings with my mates at the club, I had had enough. I embarked on long walks by myself, absorbing the sounds and sights of the city thoroughfares, far away from the madding crowds. On the third street from the main boulevard, I heard a group playing violins –presumably a music school. I settled down on a street-side bench to enjoy the music. After a while, the class broke up and the lot exited the foyer with their violin cases. For a couple of days, I discreetly observed the pattern from my perch on the bench, delightfully letting myself be carried away by the melancholy of the string instruments.

It was then that I noticed her –a simple girl, diligently dressed, with a far-off look on her face. She would pass by me, amicably chatting with her friends, carefree and jubilant. I felt her presence long after she left, and forced myself to call it a day and head back to the hotel. The next day, I reached early, only to find my seat was occupied by some very senior citizens. I managed to find a spot near the bench, and sat there with my eyes transfixed on the school door. After what seemed an eternity, the students filed out, unhurried and cheerful. Kathy (short for Katherine – that was her name) went straight to the bench, surprised to see the old folks. With a bemused look, she turned around and saw me unashamedly staring into her eyes. She was alone. She walked up to me, smiled and enquired about my dark skin. I told her where I was from. She warmed up to me quickly, for she found it interesting to speak to a foreigner.

It didn’t take us long to become good friends; it was evident that we were attracted to each other. I was lonely in an alien land, and she was refreshingly different, unexpectedly polite and friendly. I gathered she wasn’t successful with her experience with boys, which had been disappointing. She was looking for friendship and company, someone to talk to and exchange views with – which was, I guess, what she saw in me. She had a strong liking for the various dance forms of my country, and was well acquainted with Indian music as well. She insisted on listening to songs on the Walkman and never tired of discussing the meaning behind the dance moves. I was flattered and all too eager to share everything I knew. She had no interest in going to