In the 18th century, a trading ship was on a passage in the Bay of Bengal. There were 250 people on board the sailing ship. The sea through which they traversed was mostly uncharted. The ship unfortunately strayed many miles from her path and was wrecked on a remote islet in the middle of the Indian Ocean. The story might have ended there, but for one of the survivors James Horsburgh it had just begun. He resolved to dedicate his life ‘making accurate charts’. It was a promise which he kept for the next fifty years. He did not seek glory but was lucky. The emerging empires of that era needed people like him.
http://www.hydro-international.com/issues/articles/id960-James_Horsburgh.html
In May 1786, an East IndiaCompany (EIC) ship Atlas was on a passage from Batavia (present day Djakarta) to Ceylon (Sri Lanka), a distance of 1868 miles to the northwest. James Horsburgh was on the vessel as a recently promoted first mate.
Navigation was a difficult task in those days. Still, it is hard to believe that the ship had drifted more than one thousand miles from its path to the Chagos Archipelago on the West. Navigators used the imprecise lunar method to determine longitude. Chronometers had not yet become a standard accessory on ships.
With the onset of monsoon, perhaps the ship did not have clear skies for astro-navigation. Another important factor which could have aggravated the ship’s navigation was the effect of monsoon currents and wind. From May to September, the easterly currents in the Bay of Bengal change to southwesterly, attaining a peak of 3 knots. A westerly current coupled with strong following winds speedily carried the ship across the sea. It was wrecked upon Diego Garcia, an islet named by early Portuguese sailors located at 7°23’ S, 72°30’ E. This point is now known to the world as the Horsburgh point.
Horsburgh later wrote:
’The charts on board were very erroneous in the delineation of the Chagos Islands and Banks, and the commander, trusting too much to dead reckoning, was steering with confidence to make the non-existent Adu or Candu for a new departure, being their longitude nearby, by account, and bound for Ceylon; but, unfortunately a cloud over Diego Garcia prevented the helmsman from discerning it, (the officer of the watch being asleep), till we were on the reef close to the shore. The masts, rudder, and everything above the deck went with the first surge; the second lifted the vessel over the outer rocks and threw her in towards the beach.’?
The survivors of Atlas were fortunate to find a British settlement there. They lived on meagre supplies for the next 6 months until they were picked up by a British ship and brought back to mainland.
The shipwreck of Atlas was a momentous event for Horsburgh. He saw the necessity for accurate charts of the Indian Ocean. He resolved to devote himself to this task, by making and recording nautical observations. This resolution was put into practice from that day, and he began to accumulate a store of nautical knowledge that served as the materials of his future productions in hydrography.
Early Life
James Horsburgh was born into a humble Scottish family in 1762. He was destined to follow Dalrymple and James Cook, the two other Scottish hydrographers who had achieved eminence before him. From the beginning, he was prepared and educated for a sea-faring life. Aged 16, having acquired some knowledge of mathematics, navigation and book-keeping, he joined a coal trading ship as a cabin-boy.
In 1780 he was captured by the French and incarcerated at Dunkirk. After his release, he went back to sea – first to the West Indies and then to India. Calcutta was the seat of power for the British Empire at that time, and was the hub port from where ships used to trade to the Far East. There was a flourishing opium trade between India and China, passing through Calcutta.
Horsburgh was employed in the ships trading between India and the neighbouring islands of East Indies. With his skill and contacts, he soon became a first mate. He might have continued as a skilful and enterprising sailor if the disaster at Diego Garcia had not happened. This incident, however, aroused his ambition and the world was fortunate to have the services of a dedicated hydrographer.
Western Europe at that time was on a quest for explorations and scientific research. The fourth model of Harrison’s chronometer had just come out. James Cook used it successfully for his expeditions to the South Pacific. Cook was killed in his third expedition to the Pacific Ocean in 1779, seven years before the Diego Garcia shipwreck.
In 1787, William Bligh sailed from England on theBountyfor a scientific expedition to the South Pacific. Other European empires were expanding and the world needed bold hydrographers to produce accurate charts of the new lands being discovered.
For several years, Horsburgh sailed between India and China. Throughout his travels, he took meticulous notes and observations. He learnt drawing and etching on the job. He constructed three charts around this time: the Strait of Macassar, the west side of the Philippine Islands and the tract from Dampier Strait through Pitt’s Passage towards Batavia. Practical sailing directions accompanied each of these. Dalrymple, the hydrographer to the EIC, published his work.
Horsburgh had a scientific mind. For two years from 1802 to 1804 he kept a meticulous record of the rise and fall of the mercury taken from two marine barometers. He found that while it regularly ebbed and flowed twice during the 24 hours in the open sea between 26°N and 26°S, it was diminished and sometimes wholly obstructed in rivers, harbours and straits (due to the proximity of the land). This important discovery was published by England’s Royal Society, of which he later became a fellow.
Hydrographic Works
Horsburgh’s greatest work which made him famous is the celebrated Directory (the original title was Directions for Sailing to and from the East Indies, China, New Holland, Cape of Good Hope, and the Interjacent Ports). It was compiled from original journals and observations made during 21 years of experience in navigating those seas.
It is interesting to note that this compilation was published by Horsburgh using his own funds. HisDirectorywas the standard work for oriental navigation for the next 50 years, until Robert Moresby’s work was published in the 19th century.
It was only after this publication that Horsburgh was acknowledged as an expert in this field. The decades of perseverance and years of toiling under the hot tropical sun had paid off. After Dalrymple died, Horsburgh was appointed as the Hydrographer to EIC in 1810. He remained in this post for 26 years until his death, dedicating himself fully to the field that he had chosen.
In a letter to the explorer Captain Matthew Flinders on 10 Nov 1812, Horsburgh wrote: `Should you pass the India House at any time, I shall be happy to see you, where I am daily to be found in the Map-room until 2 P.M.’
Apart from re-publishing the charts of his predecessors, Horsburgh published 15 new charts of Indian waters. Whereas Dalrymple was prolific in publishing all charts that came his way, Horsburgh carefully examined the data before publishing the chart. Some of his outstanding works were the charts of Bombay Harbour published in two sheets in 1830 and the general sea charts of the Bay of Bengal, Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean. The details that he provided were sufficient for the master of a vessel to safely take his ship to its destination. His last labour was the preparation of a new edition of his ‘Directory’ that was first published in 1809.
In a letter to Sir Charles Forbes, he wrote `I would have died contented, had it pleased God to allow me to see the book in print.’
Horsburgh was a merchant ship navigator who became a hydrographer. His works had a lot of practical value for the trading community. He was well regarded by the merchants as he had charted map-routes of the eastern seas which proved invaluable to the seafarers of that time.
In 1836 soon after Horsburgh died, a group of British merchants got together in Canton, China. They decided to build a lighthouse as a memorial tribute to him, the funding for which was to be collected from donations. A 109ft tall lighthouse tower with black and white horizontal bands and a white flashing light was erected in 1851 at the eastern entrance to the Malacca Straits.
The Horsburgh Lighthouse, also known as theFirst Pharos of the Eastern SeasorLighthouse for All Nationshas stood like a sentinel for more than 150 years, a fitting remembrance for one of the greatest hydrographers in history.
http://www.hydro-international.com/issues/articles/id960-James_Horsburgh.html
Monday, September 1, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
In the Warzone
From the Archives
Five years back I decided to try my hand for a shore job. So, after signing off from the ship I joined the teaching faculty and started teaching at Naval Maritime Academy. I used to travel by local from Nerul to VT. A distance of 49 kms took one hour to cover. This was the first time in my life I was commuting daily by trains. I had graduated, so to say, to become a true Mumbaikar depending on the local trains for my bread and butter.
Those days the Harbour line was not at all crowded as compared to the Western and Central line. I had with me a first class season pass. The crowd in the first class were the office going type and, in the non-peak hours there was enough space to put up our feet on the opposite seats and stretch out comfortably.
My day was a fixed routine and my life revolved around the 06:58 local. From home to the station was a 7-minute walk. Some days if I was running late I hopped in an auto for a quick ride. So….. 06:50 leave home, 06:58 catch the local, 08:01 reach VT. The 1 hour in the train was meant to prepare my lectures and plan out the rest of the day.
On reaching VT I used to cross the subway at a brisk pace and catch the Academy bus leaving at 08:10. The bus zoomed through Cuffe Parade and Colaba where we could see some of the eminent residents returning from the morning work-outs. It was still quite early in the day for the office crowd to throng the roads. At 08:25 I would reach the Academy, grab a cup of tea, before rushing for the first lecture starting at 08:30. The return trip was flexible and depending on the classes could be as early as 01:30 PM. I had lot of time for myself unlike a typical 9 to 5 job.
I came to recognize most of the regulars on the train in that one year. We had a strange camaraderie. I do not remember ever speaking to anyone of them. We used to acknowledge each other by the merest of the smiles and mostly it was by the softening of our facial features. Generally Mumbai local train commuters wear a grim face.
Today I hardly travel by the trains. But I do not miss them. The crowds have become unbearable and the conditions have deteriorated. Back then there was no need to fight for a seat. The rains are more severe today and tracks are flooded very easily. Life in the local trains has become bad. For a second class commuter it is even worse.
When the Western line suffered the serial blasts I felt an immense sadness. As such the commuter has a lot of hardships. He is totally dependent on the smooth running of the train. A slight delay or problem on the way throws his life out of gear. The trains are his lifeline.
There is really no other way to travel for those who stay far from their workplace.
Buses take too long, and the bad roads make long-distance commuting impossible. Similarly daily commuting by car is not practical, even if one could afford the high cost. Day in and day out you have to live through this mindless existence. Nothing can replace the local train – crowds, ramshackle coaches and miserable views notwithstanding. In terms of time taken and cost of traveling.
I don’t think Mumbaikars were back on the trains so soon after the blast because they can ‘bounce back’. Despite the fear of life and limbs and the sadness for the fellow commuters who died or lay injured, they willed their hearts to step into the boxcar. For what other options did they have?
I don’t know why the terrorists chose to plant the bombs in the trains. I don’t think the bombs could keep the crowd away for more than 24 hours. Perhaps a more dangerous deterrent would had been poisonous chemicals. After all that sound and fury of a bomb-blast only 200 people died.
Once I tried to count the number of people in a jam-packed coach. Four to a bench x 64 benches = 256. Plus 100 standees. 350 to a coach x 9 coaches x 150 trains x 3 routes! One and a half million! Do our locals carry so many every day? Three crore rupees generated everyday by sale of tickets! Is anybody auditing these figures? Where is the money going? Why is this not getting translated to a better deal for the commuters? Why do we have to travel in such inhuman conditions?
Look around yourself in a second class. Only common people travel in these coaches regularly. They don’t have the time and the inclination to protest. Most of them wear a glazed expression on their faces. But they all have a dream. An eternal hope in their hearts that one day a new line will be miraculously laid and super-fast trains will glide smoothly over it, and take them to their destinations in luxury. Like the ones on which Japanese, Londoners and even the Shanghai citizens travel.
A Mumbaikar has a burden. He has to subsidies all those ticket-less travelers in Bihar and UP. He has probably financed part of the swanky underground metro in Delhi. Because he is the murga.
A typical commuter in Mumbai can be profiled easily. Generally less than 50 years else he will not be able to withstand the rigours of daily traveling. Slim and nimble on his feet so he can take part in the daily stampede getting on and off the train. Fastidiously clean to keep all sorts of diseases away. He has the ability to switch off his brain at will. It helps to protect oneself from the plethora of sights and smells which assaults his senses everyday. He is deeply religious because he needs God on his side to take him safely through the day. He carries a black bag slung across his shoulder which leaves both his hands free. In the monsoon he carries a small umbrella which fits snugly in his bag.
There is no pleasure traveling in locals. As a matter of fact train commuters look at those who have managed to get out of the daily commuting with lot of envy. He is trapped in a lifestyle where he has to risk his life and limb everyday. Rains, floods, derailment, deadly stones aimed at him from the slums, bombs …anything can trip him in his daily journey. He lives in the war-zone and there is no easy escape from this.
It was disgusting to see the VIPs who visited the hospitals to pay their lip-service. When they said ‘we salute you and your Mumbaikar spirit’ I felt like giving them a sound whack on their backside. Have these guys ever traveled in the local trains? Who are these jokers surrounded by a horde of security guards who come to see the plight of a traveler in the hospital?
Who is paying the salary for their security guards and their swanky cars? It’s us! Despite paying taxes we have to go through the grind everyday and these guys live in luxury. To them we have only one message – you please fight the terrorists yourself. If you cannot, then privatize the railways and out-source the security to more able agencies.
We don’t need your noble words and the hypocritic faces. Just give us a comfortable train so we can carry on our jobs. Give us a less crowded and faster train with AC. We don’t need the windows because there is nothing worthwhile to see outside and it will save us the foul smells. We don’t need other people’s miseries to encroach into our minds. The slums, beggars, drug addicts, those living on the life’s edge please keep them away from us.
At least don’t treat us like cattle. We would prefer to have beautiful people, beautiful sceneries and luxurious upholstery around. If that is not possible at least give us a workmanlike train. After all we are paying for it!
Mumbaikars don’t like to talk very much about their local trains to outsiders because it is our private shame.
Capt Raj. S. Chakravorty
Five years back I decided to try my hand for a shore job. So, after signing off from the ship I joined the teaching faculty and started teaching at Naval Maritime Academy. I used to travel by local from Nerul to VT. A distance of 49 kms took one hour to cover. This was the first time in my life I was commuting daily by trains. I had graduated, so to say, to become a true Mumbaikar depending on the local trains for my bread and butter.
Those days the Harbour line was not at all crowded as compared to the Western and Central line. I had with me a first class season pass. The crowd in the first class were the office going type and, in the non-peak hours there was enough space to put up our feet on the opposite seats and stretch out comfortably.
My day was a fixed routine and my life revolved around the 06:58 local. From home to the station was a 7-minute walk. Some days if I was running late I hopped in an auto for a quick ride. So….. 06:50 leave home, 06:58 catch the local, 08:01 reach VT. The 1 hour in the train was meant to prepare my lectures and plan out the rest of the day.
On reaching VT I used to cross the subway at a brisk pace and catch the Academy bus leaving at 08:10. The bus zoomed through Cuffe Parade and Colaba where we could see some of the eminent residents returning from the morning work-outs. It was still quite early in the day for the office crowd to throng the roads. At 08:25 I would reach the Academy, grab a cup of tea, before rushing for the first lecture starting at 08:30. The return trip was flexible and depending on the classes could be as early as 01:30 PM. I had lot of time for myself unlike a typical 9 to 5 job.
I came to recognize most of the regulars on the train in that one year. We had a strange camaraderie. I do not remember ever speaking to anyone of them. We used to acknowledge each other by the merest of the smiles and mostly it was by the softening of our facial features. Generally Mumbai local train commuters wear a grim face.
Today I hardly travel by the trains. But I do not miss them. The crowds have become unbearable and the conditions have deteriorated. Back then there was no need to fight for a seat. The rains are more severe today and tracks are flooded very easily. Life in the local trains has become bad. For a second class commuter it is even worse.
When the Western line suffered the serial blasts I felt an immense sadness. As such the commuter has a lot of hardships. He is totally dependent on the smooth running of the train. A slight delay or problem on the way throws his life out of gear. The trains are his lifeline.
There is really no other way to travel for those who stay far from their workplace.
Buses take too long, and the bad roads make long-distance commuting impossible. Similarly daily commuting by car is not practical, even if one could afford the high cost. Day in and day out you have to live through this mindless existence. Nothing can replace the local train – crowds, ramshackle coaches and miserable views notwithstanding. In terms of time taken and cost of traveling.
I don’t think Mumbaikars were back on the trains so soon after the blast because they can ‘bounce back’. Despite the fear of life and limbs and the sadness for the fellow commuters who died or lay injured, they willed their hearts to step into the boxcar. For what other options did they have?
I don’t know why the terrorists chose to plant the bombs in the trains. I don’t think the bombs could keep the crowd away for more than 24 hours. Perhaps a more dangerous deterrent would had been poisonous chemicals. After all that sound and fury of a bomb-blast only 200 people died.
Once I tried to count the number of people in a jam-packed coach. Four to a bench x 64 benches = 256. Plus 100 standees. 350 to a coach x 9 coaches x 150 trains x 3 routes! One and a half million! Do our locals carry so many every day? Three crore rupees generated everyday by sale of tickets! Is anybody auditing these figures? Where is the money going? Why is this not getting translated to a better deal for the commuters? Why do we have to travel in such inhuman conditions?
Look around yourself in a second class. Only common people travel in these coaches regularly. They don’t have the time and the inclination to protest. Most of them wear a glazed expression on their faces. But they all have a dream. An eternal hope in their hearts that one day a new line will be miraculously laid and super-fast trains will glide smoothly over it, and take them to their destinations in luxury. Like the ones on which Japanese, Londoners and even the Shanghai citizens travel.
A Mumbaikar has a burden. He has to subsidies all those ticket-less travelers in Bihar and UP. He has probably financed part of the swanky underground metro in Delhi. Because he is the murga.
A typical commuter in Mumbai can be profiled easily. Generally less than 50 years else he will not be able to withstand the rigours of daily traveling. Slim and nimble on his feet so he can take part in the daily stampede getting on and off the train. Fastidiously clean to keep all sorts of diseases away. He has the ability to switch off his brain at will. It helps to protect oneself from the plethora of sights and smells which assaults his senses everyday. He is deeply religious because he needs God on his side to take him safely through the day. He carries a black bag slung across his shoulder which leaves both his hands free. In the monsoon he carries a small umbrella which fits snugly in his bag.
There is no pleasure traveling in locals. As a matter of fact train commuters look at those who have managed to get out of the daily commuting with lot of envy. He is trapped in a lifestyle where he has to risk his life and limb everyday. Rains, floods, derailment, deadly stones aimed at him from the slums, bombs …anything can trip him in his daily journey. He lives in the war-zone and there is no easy escape from this.
It was disgusting to see the VIPs who visited the hospitals to pay their lip-service. When they said ‘we salute you and your Mumbaikar spirit’ I felt like giving them a sound whack on their backside. Have these guys ever traveled in the local trains? Who are these jokers surrounded by a horde of security guards who come to see the plight of a traveler in the hospital?
Who is paying the salary for their security guards and their swanky cars? It’s us! Despite paying taxes we have to go through the grind everyday and these guys live in luxury. To them we have only one message – you please fight the terrorists yourself. If you cannot, then privatize the railways and out-source the security to more able agencies.
We don’t need your noble words and the hypocritic faces. Just give us a comfortable train so we can carry on our jobs. Give us a less crowded and faster train with AC. We don’t need the windows because there is nothing worthwhile to see outside and it will save us the foul smells. We don’t need other people’s miseries to encroach into our minds. The slums, beggars, drug addicts, those living on the life’s edge please keep them away from us.
At least don’t treat us like cattle. We would prefer to have beautiful people, beautiful sceneries and luxurious upholstery around. If that is not possible at least give us a workmanlike train. After all we are paying for it!
Mumbaikars don’t like to talk very much about their local trains to outsiders because it is our private shame.
Capt Raj. S. Chakravorty
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The Corporate Conference
From the archives dated December 2006.
In December I attended the C-MAP conference at Egersund, Norway. Reps from 17 countries were present. For a change, Egersund appeared lively this time. Perhaps it was because our trip coincided with the opening of Christmas Town – Egersund’s annual Julebyen celebrations.
The trip from Mumbai to Egersund has become familiar now. I was coming back after four months and I didn’t expect any problems. But I had not reckoned with the ever increasing security measures. At Amsterdam, having browsed through the over priced duty free shops. I stood in the long queue to enter the Scandinavian world. When my turn came they asked:
‘Are you carrying any liquids?’
I drained my coke can, kept it aside and smiled confidently.
‘No.’
The hand bag and I passed through the scanner. Whilst I sailed through I noticed that my bag didn’t. It was moving back and forth under the X-ray machine. Finally it moved forward along with a grim faced gentleman.
‘Open it’, he snapped at me.
‘It’s already open. You just have to pull the zip down.’ I said.
I demonstrated how easily my bag could be opened.
‘Take your things out’.
The gentleman was clearly unimpressed with the ease my bag could be opened. And it seemed he was wary of touching it.
I slowly took the things out. A hand towel, a diary, one set of clothes, my toilet kit.
‘Hold it right there. Open the zip of this pouch.’ The guy said.
I opened my toiletries and took out the toothpaste, shaving cream and skin cream. They were gingerly picked up and put on a tray.
The tray was taken to the head of the security, duly checked and brought back.
‘These are liquid and they go into the trash’.
‘I am sorry’. I mumbled.
I was nonplussed. If that was liquid, I better be careful. Tomorrow they might object my walking through the scanner especially after drinking all those cokes and coffee.
At Stavanger airport the weather looked daunting – cold and windy with rains. By the time I reached Egersund the smile on my face was wearing thinner. At night, in my hotel room I switched on the TV and watched ‘SKY TV’ channel. I adjusted my watch with the TV and went to sleep.
That was a bad move because SKY is a British channel and UK is 1 hour behind Norway. In the morning I had my breakfast and noticed – wrongly - that I had sufficient time to go for a walk and probably replenish some ‘liquids’ essentially required to appear well-groomed.
By the time I came back to the hotel there was a search party mounted for me. I found an extremely worried Terje looking for me. He was relieved to see me safe.
Terje took me to C-MAP headquarters. When I entered the conference hall I could see that I had made a grand entrance. Representatives from different parts of the world looked up to see India entering the hall. Perhaps I should had felt proud that some of the most knowledgeable professionals in Electronic Charts were looking up at me. But there are better ways to make India stand out.
Around 25 people took part in the conference. C-MAP was represented from Baltic (Estonia), China, Greece, Italy, India, Japan, Malaysia, Netherlands, Poland, Russia, Scandinavia (Norway), Singapore, South Africa, UK and USA. We also had visitors from Boeing, USA and Japan. Jeppesen Marine, USA who are in the process of taking over C-MAP was there too. It was a heady feeling to interact with an international group. I felt reassured to see a vibrant C-MAP all over the world. We are the number one in USA, Western Europe, Far East & the Indian subcontinent. What is left is Africa and South America. Do they really matter?
In a conference in which there are many countries represented one gets the opportunity of understanding the company philosophy better. We had presentations from major shipping countries which included India, Japan, China, Greece, US, Scandinavia & Malaysia. I enjoyed the presentation by Mizuho, a young petite clerk from Japan as she read out the impressive figures of her country in a sing song voice.
C-Map has followed a simple policy. The National Hydrographic Offices (HOs) are the owners of chart data and C-Map’s responsibility is to obtain this data, repackage it and supply it directly to the customer. In this business of providing nautical information service C-Map aims to be the best in the world.
The very simplicity of the corporate vision ensures that there is no confusion in the minds of both the supplier and the customers. C-MAP has remained extremely focused in its objective.
HOs in the world are invariably government agencies. Being non-commercial agencies they ensure the purity and accuracy of the collected data. But HOs generally do not talk to their customers. This is where C-MAP comes in – to provide the interface between the HO’s (producers of data) and the shipping industry (users of data).
The five days – Monday to Friday zipped through and before we realized the conference was over.
In the daytime there were presentations, animated discussions and workshops where we exchanged our views and experiences. In the evenings there were dinners and banquets with good food and wine. There was laughter all around.
Before I forget to mention, Egersund beer was a big hit. It is coffee coloured and has a distinctive flavour. It requires a little time to acquire the taste. The locals were quite proud of this brew. From time to time somebody would come and offer me a mug of beer and ask my opinion about it. Perhaps the Christmas spirit had already begun to make itself felt.
Egersund is a quiet town. One morning when the rains abated a bit I went for a walk. At 7 in the morning it seemed like midnight. It was dark and there was not a single soul around. Mercifully the street lights were all on.
I decided to trudge up the hill and visit Egersund Chapel which has a cemetery. On both sides of the narrow road there were wooden houses. The curtains were mostly drawn apart and there would be a light burning inside. One could easily see neat rooms through the windows. It all looked enticing.
As I rounded a corner I saw a big dog coming noiselessly from the opposite side. I don’t know who was more surprised – the dog or me as both of us looked at each other. In Egersund, there are no strays. When somebody takes a dog out for a walk it should be always held by a leash. Otherwise you have to pay a big fine. I wish Mumbai could control the stray-dog population by such methods.
On the last day we had a grand banquet. Here I met Steve, an Englishman with an Indian connection. Steve’s Dad was in India till 1947. He lived in Cox’s Bazaar (now in Bangladesh).
Steve himself had a story to tell. Twenty years back, whilst on a short visit to Norway he succumbed to its charms. He married a pretty local girl, Anne and settled down in Norway forever. Steve likes to hunt. Though he is not so particular about the quarry itself. Steve had an endearing way to describe a day he spent on deer-hunting:
‘The day’s hunting was non-productive in terms of how many deer we saw, but I regard hunting rather like I do fly fishing, that we should also appreciate nature, good company, the weather and that any game / fish is a bonus’.
On Thursday evening Egersund celebrated ‘Christmas Town’. It was a friendly gathering and the whole town turned up for the occasion. People were dressed up for the festive season and children turned up in big numbers. There were lots of Christmas carols in which people would sing along good naturedly with great gusto.
As I was walking around, Santa Claus turned up and boomed in his loud voice.
‘Now Raj Chakravorty will take our photographs’, as he draped his arm around a few children.
I duly obliged. It was pleasant to hear Santa pronouncing my surname perfectly. Not surprising because we knew each other from the office.
It was hard not to be affected by the friendliness around. Even the weather couldn’t dampen the town’s spirits.
Capt. Raj S Chakravorty
In December I attended the C-MAP conference at Egersund, Norway. Reps from 17 countries were present. For a change, Egersund appeared lively this time. Perhaps it was because our trip coincided with the opening of Christmas Town – Egersund’s annual Julebyen celebrations.
The trip from Mumbai to Egersund has become familiar now. I was coming back after four months and I didn’t expect any problems. But I had not reckoned with the ever increasing security measures. At Amsterdam, having browsed through the over priced duty free shops. I stood in the long queue to enter the Scandinavian world. When my turn came they asked:
‘Are you carrying any liquids?’
I drained my coke can, kept it aside and smiled confidently.
‘No.’
The hand bag and I passed through the scanner. Whilst I sailed through I noticed that my bag didn’t. It was moving back and forth under the X-ray machine. Finally it moved forward along with a grim faced gentleman.
‘Open it’, he snapped at me.
‘It’s already open. You just have to pull the zip down.’ I said.
I demonstrated how easily my bag could be opened.
‘Take your things out’.
The gentleman was clearly unimpressed with the ease my bag could be opened. And it seemed he was wary of touching it.
I slowly took the things out. A hand towel, a diary, one set of clothes, my toilet kit.
‘Hold it right there. Open the zip of this pouch.’ The guy said.
I opened my toiletries and took out the toothpaste, shaving cream and skin cream. They were gingerly picked up and put on a tray.
The tray was taken to the head of the security, duly checked and brought back.
‘These are liquid and they go into the trash’.
‘I am sorry’. I mumbled.
I was nonplussed. If that was liquid, I better be careful. Tomorrow they might object my walking through the scanner especially after drinking all those cokes and coffee.
At Stavanger airport the weather looked daunting – cold and windy with rains. By the time I reached Egersund the smile on my face was wearing thinner. At night, in my hotel room I switched on the TV and watched ‘SKY TV’ channel. I adjusted my watch with the TV and went to sleep.
That was a bad move because SKY is a British channel and UK is 1 hour behind Norway. In the morning I had my breakfast and noticed – wrongly - that I had sufficient time to go for a walk and probably replenish some ‘liquids’ essentially required to appear well-groomed.
By the time I came back to the hotel there was a search party mounted for me. I found an extremely worried Terje looking for me. He was relieved to see me safe.
Terje took me to C-MAP headquarters. When I entered the conference hall I could see that I had made a grand entrance. Representatives from different parts of the world looked up to see India entering the hall. Perhaps I should had felt proud that some of the most knowledgeable professionals in Electronic Charts were looking up at me. But there are better ways to make India stand out.
Around 25 people took part in the conference. C-MAP was represented from Baltic (Estonia), China, Greece, Italy, India, Japan, Malaysia, Netherlands, Poland, Russia, Scandinavia (Norway), Singapore, South Africa, UK and USA. We also had visitors from Boeing, USA and Japan. Jeppesen Marine, USA who are in the process of taking over C-MAP was there too. It was a heady feeling to interact with an international group. I felt reassured to see a vibrant C-MAP all over the world. We are the number one in USA, Western Europe, Far East & the Indian subcontinent. What is left is Africa and South America. Do they really matter?
In a conference in which there are many countries represented one gets the opportunity of understanding the company philosophy better. We had presentations from major shipping countries which included India, Japan, China, Greece, US, Scandinavia & Malaysia. I enjoyed the presentation by Mizuho, a young petite clerk from Japan as she read out the impressive figures of her country in a sing song voice.
C-Map has followed a simple policy. The National Hydrographic Offices (HOs) are the owners of chart data and C-Map’s responsibility is to obtain this data, repackage it and supply it directly to the customer. In this business of providing nautical information service C-Map aims to be the best in the world.
The very simplicity of the corporate vision ensures that there is no confusion in the minds of both the supplier and the customers. C-MAP has remained extremely focused in its objective.
HOs in the world are invariably government agencies. Being non-commercial agencies they ensure the purity and accuracy of the collected data. But HOs generally do not talk to their customers. This is where C-MAP comes in – to provide the interface between the HO’s (producers of data) and the shipping industry (users of data).
The five days – Monday to Friday zipped through and before we realized the conference was over.
In the daytime there were presentations, animated discussions and workshops where we exchanged our views and experiences. In the evenings there were dinners and banquets with good food and wine. There was laughter all around.
Before I forget to mention, Egersund beer was a big hit. It is coffee coloured and has a distinctive flavour. It requires a little time to acquire the taste. The locals were quite proud of this brew. From time to time somebody would come and offer me a mug of beer and ask my opinion about it. Perhaps the Christmas spirit had already begun to make itself felt.
Egersund is a quiet town. One morning when the rains abated a bit I went for a walk. At 7 in the morning it seemed like midnight. It was dark and there was not a single soul around. Mercifully the street lights were all on.
I decided to trudge up the hill and visit Egersund Chapel which has a cemetery. On both sides of the narrow road there were wooden houses. The curtains were mostly drawn apart and there would be a light burning inside. One could easily see neat rooms through the windows. It all looked enticing.
As I rounded a corner I saw a big dog coming noiselessly from the opposite side. I don’t know who was more surprised – the dog or me as both of us looked at each other. In Egersund, there are no strays. When somebody takes a dog out for a walk it should be always held by a leash. Otherwise you have to pay a big fine. I wish Mumbai could control the stray-dog population by such methods.
On the last day we had a grand banquet. Here I met Steve, an Englishman with an Indian connection. Steve’s Dad was in India till 1947. He lived in Cox’s Bazaar (now in Bangladesh).
Steve himself had a story to tell. Twenty years back, whilst on a short visit to Norway he succumbed to its charms. He married a pretty local girl, Anne and settled down in Norway forever. Steve likes to hunt. Though he is not so particular about the quarry itself. Steve had an endearing way to describe a day he spent on deer-hunting:
‘The day’s hunting was non-productive in terms of how many deer we saw, but I regard hunting rather like I do fly fishing, that we should also appreciate nature, good company, the weather and that any game / fish is a bonus’.
On Thursday evening Egersund celebrated ‘Christmas Town’. It was a friendly gathering and the whole town turned up for the occasion. People were dressed up for the festive season and children turned up in big numbers. There were lots of Christmas carols in which people would sing along good naturedly with great gusto.
As I was walking around, Santa Claus turned up and boomed in his loud voice.
‘Now Raj Chakravorty will take our photographs’, as he draped his arm around a few children.
I duly obliged. It was pleasant to hear Santa pronouncing my surname perfectly. Not surprising because we knew each other from the office.
It was hard not to be affected by the friendliness around. Even the weather couldn’t dampen the town’s spirits.
Capt. Raj S Chakravorty
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