A Rare Afternoon

At the annual Jeppesen Marine banquet at Egersund, Norway Aslak asked me,

“Are you free tomorrow? I want to show you something.”

I sensed it would be something precious.

‘I am free,’ I said modestly.

To tell the truth, I would have made myself available anyhow just to spend the day with Aslak Dirdal. He is the guy who created C-Map’s CM93 product. The figure 93 indicates the year it was created. It brings in over 90% of Jeppesen India’s revenue, and I guess, for the other Jeppesen offices too.

Next day at 1:30 in the afternoon I stood outside the hotel lobby. Aslak had warned me that Egersund’s Christmas Town crowd on Saturday wouldn’t permit him to park the car outside the hotel.

A big Toyota came in and Aslak waved at me from inside. I opened the door and slid into the seat. It was a 15-minute drive to the coast. At some point the car turned right from the highway into a lane. When the paved road ended we parked the car and got out in the bright sunny weather. In December it is rare to see the sun in Norway.

We started our walk up the slope into the meadows.

Aslak pointed to a house. “It belongs to Odd’s wife,” referring to a colleague at Jeppesen.

Walking on these meadows requires waterproof boots. I was wearing a simple Bata leather shoe. Fortunately the grounds had dried up under the day’s sun. The heavens had conspired to provide us with a perfect afternoon to walk and talk.

There wasn’t anybody around. Just some sheep grazing and two mighty fine horses at a distance.

We were going to a summer get-away. A house built on the slopes of the Egersund coast. Stapnes was on our left and Svanes on the right. Two communes overlooking the North Sea.

I, the son of a dispossessed refugee (Bôstu Hara) from East Bengal, was going to look over some prime ocean-front properties.

Aslak’s property was acquired twenty five years back. Current Norwegian rules do not permit acquisition of such properties any more. Here, in Norway one can trespass over others properties. You cannot build of course. I suppose it is to provide access to other holdings. Otherwise, in the absence of planned roads it becomes difficult to reach a place without going over somebody else’s fields.

The population isn’t much. So there is not much pressure due to crowding and infringements of privacy. Egersund has less than 15000 residents. Stapnes and Svanes would probably have a few hundred.

This particular stretch of coast has a number of bunkers. They were built by the Germans during WWII to protect the entrance to Egersund harbour. Aslak’s house stood close to one bunker.

At present the bunker was being used to store fishing gears and other knick-knacks. Aslak unlatched the door carefully to show me inside.

‘You don’t put a lock?’

“No”. He laughed. There are no thefts or vandalism in Norway. In India such an arrangement won’t work.

Inside the bunker on a wall was boldly written in German Gothic font

Losantin u. Gasläufer
nur bei Gas verwenden

Losantin is the name of a German decontaminating agent. The sign was probably a warning to use this chemical on rolls of impregnated paper to cross contaminated grounds in case of gas attack.

A relic from the Second World War.

From the house built on a small promontory jutting out into the sea there is a lovely unobstructed view around a sweep of more than 180 degrees. Standing there and gazing out to the sea I murmured to myself William Cowper’s words:

I am monarch of all I survey…

Out in the sea stood a cargo vessel.

“Whenever I see a ship I wonder whether it’s carrying C-Map charts.” Aslak said.

That is because it is his baby. His creation. Isn’t it a great feeling to have if you have given something to the world which people like? People buy, not because they are forced to do so, but because they like the product. There could be ten thousand CM93/3 users. The navigator or the Master hardly knows the creator. They simply accept it as a C-Map Chart. A reliable piece of product. It will help them to reach their destination safely.

“Take some salmon. My wife’s brother caught it. He owns a fishing boat.”

He took a slab out of the freezer. I am a Bengali and an avid fish-eater. My nose twitched with the fine smell. I eagerly took the slab.

‘But won’t it spoil by the time it reaches India.’

“No, no. it’s smoked salmon. You can give it to your wife once you reach home. Carry it in your cabin bag. Nothing will happen.”

Aslak had built the summer-house himself. Most Norwegians are good with their hands. I suppose it’s because it’s not easy to get hired hands here. Plus they are very expensive. I saw the floor-tiles and the bay windows. To me they appeared to be built by professionals.

It was 3:00 pm in the afternoon. One hour of daylight remained. It was time to leave the house and walk some more.

For two hours we talked about C-Map, electronic charts, hydrography and the world in general.

How did you join C-Map?

I narrated my story. I used to be a hydrographic surveyor in the Indian Navy. I left the Navy prematurely to join shipping. But I was not happy there. So three years later I started teaching in a maritime academy. There I started the ECDIS course in 2002. We were the pioneers of this course in India.

Teaching was not fetching me the money and recognition that I was looking for. So side by side I started a business in marine services.

I wanted to get into ECDIS business. In 2003 I became an agent for dKart Navigator ECDIS in India. From them we got a system to evaluate. Along with the system we also got C-Map worldwide charts. I used to spend many hours exploring the charts.

This gave me an idea to try and become the dealer for C-Map products in India. I approached the Indian hydrographer RAdm Vasan, with whom I had sailed before, and broached the proposal to take up the distribution of their Electronic Navigation Charts (ENCs). Vasan invited me to demonstrate our capability.

I immediately got back to C-Map and told them that the hydrographer had invited me; could C-Map tell me how they intended to market the ENCs?

My mail to C-Map evinced a prompt response from Tor Svanes. He was on board the next flight to Delhi, to meet the hydrographer. And so the fairy tale started.

Vasan remembered meeting Tor in some conference earlier. Tor is a charming fellow. He is tall, handsome and has the typical Nordic jolliness. He had the NHO people eating out from his hand.

Admiral Vasan had grand visions for NHO India. He also wanted to become a Director at International Hydrographic Organisation, Monaco (IHO). For this he had planned the mega event Hydro-India 2004. One of his aims was to use this event as a platform to project himself as a suitable candidate for IHO directorship. He needed sponsors and money for the event. He was looking at C-Map to contribute generously.

On the other hand Tor Svanes was looking to expand his business in India. To him Hydro India 2004 was a good opportunity to showcase C-Map as the world leader in charting.

Tor and Vasan both had their own agendas. I was just the facilitator.

At the conference my wife and I did a good job of promoting C-Map and managed to upstage everyone else in this game of one-up-man-ship. I remember at the event Wyn Williams, then head of UKHO, had complained to Vasan.

“Wherever I look I find C-Map.”

That’s how we joined C-Map.

It was quiet as we trudged over the meadows.

“I don’t hear the roar of the sea or the sound of waves breaking over the rocks,” I said.

“Generally it’s there. But today it is exceptionally calm.”

I knew we should savour the day and the perfect weather conditions. Nature will catch up later and Egersund will have some rough weather soon. Meanwhile it was heavenly.

Like the smoked salmon.

Letting My Hair Down

They allowed me to tag along after the banquet got over. All young fellows and lovely girls. The girls looked too easy. But they weren’t. The boys were laughing hard. Very hard. I was looking at them with wonder.

Images of licentious behaviour flashed through my mind. But they had a limiting line. And nobody crossed it.

They were drinking a lot. Whereas, I have total control on drinking. They shared the roll. I don’t smoke. I can’t hold a ciggie. They have dreamy eyes and lots of money. They can shake a leg. And they were touching each other a lot. Do I fit into this crowd?

The girls looked so pretty with their encouraging smiles. I was tempted. Like Adam. To bite into the apple. But I wasn’t drunk. Not even high. Simply mesmerized by the atmosphere around.

I tagged along with the group. They called for a taxi. I was quite deaf with the loud talk in the background. I couldn’t make out what was happening. Where were they going? I got a little concerned.

“Where are we going” I asked the girl next to me. She laughed aloud and announced my concern gleefully to the group.

I left my strong views on humanity, religion and politics in the hotel lobby and got into the taxi-bus. I let my mind open up. To the crowd’s chatter. To the small talk. To new ideas. It didn’t matter that I didn’t understand what was being discussed. But I understood the body-language. Life can’t be that serious. Mumbai seemed like another planet. Poverty, injustice, terror, ailments didn’t exist. Not in this world. And if they did, I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

The girl sitting next to me asked “Are you straight?”

I let that question pass. I couldn’t explain to her about my inhibitions. Brought upon by generations of our culture of controlled existence. It would take me a little more time to open up. The night was still young.

As the night wore on and passed into the new day I found myself caressing the golden curls of the girl sitting next to me.

“Are you okay?”

I said I was feeling excited.

“That’s okay.”

I was dancing merrily. I had merged finally into the group. The only problem was I wasn’t drunk. Not even high. Just a little light-hearted.

The host came up to me and said in broken English – “I am a fisherman.”

Oh!

“Where are you from?” he asked me.

Mumbai!

At that moment Mumbai seemed very far. For the time being I forgot the rat-race, the unmet goals and the challenges lying ahead.

“Here take this fishermen’s knife. Be careful! Don’t carry it in your pocket. They don’t allow them in the airport.”

Thanks!

I was happy. Euphoric. No bad memories troubled me. I could stretch my hand and take my pick of the goodies around. If some slipped away, let them be. There was enough around. And lots of time to savour them.

I was laughing without a thought. No worries. No responsibilities. Not here. Not now.

And then the dream got over.

“Hey Raj! The taxi is waiting outside. Come! Raj! Get Up.”

I got up. Dusted myself.

Where’s my tie?

The girl with the curly hair was wearing five of them, including mine. She looked like a head-hunter. I collected my tie from her.

Ha Det Bra. Bye Bye everybody!

Resolution for 2010 - Learn Dancing.