Commercial Compulsions

‘How could he do it?’ thundered the instructor.
‘As a Master you cannot ignore a distress call at sea. SOLAS clearly puts the obligation on a Master. He has to save the lives of fellow seafarers. It is given in IAMSAR also. All through the centuries this has been an unwritten law which every seafarer has obeyed. SOLAS has even made it into an international law.
‘The Master of the other vessel had to be present at the scene of distress – if nothing else at least for the sake of humanity.’

I was attending the Master Revalidation course at MASSA Maritime Academy. The class was discussing the Red Sea incident which took place in February this year. Al-Salam, the Egyptian ferry had sunk 80 miles off Safaga in heavy seas. More than 1000 lives were lost and this was 2006. By all accounts it was a tragic incident, but entirely avoidable.

The Master of Al-Salam had initially refused to sail out because the vessel was overloaded. Bowing to commercial compulsions he took the vessel out. Mid-sea the vessel caught fire, which went out of control because it was detected late. Then the fire-fighters put so much of water trying to douse the fire that the vessel developed a list. The ship ultimately sank. Bad weather and heavy seas contributed to the many lives that were lost.

The most unfortunate part according to Capt Panda was that there was another ship in the vicinity, belonging to the same company, which ignored the distress call and continued on its passage. By the time other ships could reach the spot 10 hours later it was too late.

By his own admission the Master of the second vessel St. Catherine had refused to help because ‘the weather was bad and he feared the safety of 1800 passengers on board’. This vessel belonging to the same company was equally overloaded. The Master had conferred with the company director sitting in his office and they had mutually decided that St. Catherine should continue on its passage to avoid another disaster. There was a huge uproar after the massive loss of lives and some scapegoats had to be found. The authorities needed to show some results. The owner, incidentally, had fled to England. The Master of St. Catherine was immediately taken into custody on his arrival and put behind bars.

When Titanic sank in 1912 there weren’t any written laws for vessels to render assistance. Yet Captain Rostron master of Carpathia reacted in a most professional manner when he received the SOS. This was the first time he was responding to a distress call. He immediately altered course and proceeded at full dispatch towards Titanic 58 miles away. Carpathia reached within two hours of the sinking of Titanic. Had she not responded in this manner another 700 would had been added to the list of dead.

These are the long-standing traditions of the sea. SOLAS was adopted in response to the Titanic disaster. In it is spelt out the responsibilities and obligations of ships’ masters to render assistance thus:

The Master of a ship at sea which is in a position to be able to provide assistance, on receiving a signal from any source that persons are in distress at sea, is bound to proceed with all speed to their assistance, if possible informing them or the search and rescue service that the ship is doing so….

Humanity! For the sake of humanity seafarers must help each other. What’s happening to humanity?

Our class of experienced seafarers was there to learn. In the safe AC environs of the classroom words flowed easily. The bunch of hardened mariners was looking here and there avoiding each others eyes.

‘Sir, I want to say something.’ All eyes turned towards a young chap who had a belligerent look.
‘The conditions on board a ship are not the same nowadays. What humanity are we talking about? I was in a ship crossing the Atlantic. We sailed out of Malaga - Spain bound for US. Five hundred miles out into the sea and the Master makes a dreadful discovery. He finds a stowaway.’

There was a collective groan in the class. The Master’s worst nightmare had come true. A stowaway is like an unwanted pregnancy. Nobody wants to hold the baby. Most times the stowaway doesn’t belong to the country from where he got on board. Nobody will accept him, neither the port from where he came on board and certainly not the country to which he wants to go to. The ship becomes the unfortunate carrier. The company suffers tremendous losses trying to solve the problem in the name of humanity.

In this case the Master was miserable. He was new in his command and one such incident could finish his career. All those years of painstaking work and studies would vanish in thin air just because the @#$%*^ stowaway decided to board his vessel.

The Master called a meeting of the top four. He, Chief Engineer, Chief Officer and the Second Engineer went into a huddle.

‘Bara Saab, You are the most experienced amongst us. I have spoken to the Super and he told me to take your advice. What should we do?’

The Chief Engineer was livid with anger. The problem wasn’t his creation. He knew he was being blackmailed. The Super will pay heavily for this.

‘So, what did they do?’ asked the instructor

‘Ask this question to the Master. He spoke to the company. Fortunately the stowaway was overpowered and trussed up. He was a black from the interiors of Africa. Nobody understood what he said and nobody was likely to miss him either. The Master called some trusted crew members in his cabin that night. In the morning the black guy had disappeared.’

‘I was a second-mate that time. All I know is that the Chief Officer was not a willing party to this incident. After the voyage the Chief Officer lost his job. The Master is still in the same company and sailing merrily.’

We were all quiet and listening. As seafarers we have become slaves to commercial compulsions. ETAs have to be met. Fuel has to be conserved. Perishable cargoes need to be delivered. Where is the time to think about humanity?

No Master will stop his vessel in pirate-infested waters to pick up a distressed soul. The ship is not like a car. Changing over from heavy fuel to diesel for coming to maneuvering state is a lengthy process and takes hours. The vessel is not built for easy maneuvers.

When you see somebody in a boat waving his shirt you can’t believe that this is happening to you. Who knows whether he is really distressed or he is just another scheming bastard. Waiting to board and rob your vessel.

Why are the other ships out there not stopping?

Simply close your eyes and continue on your passage. Hope like hell that the authorities will not question you. And if they did – I didn’t see anything.
Commercial compulsions have resulted in reduced manning. With 16 or fewer people on board we simply do not have the capability to tackle an emergency. Life on board is stressed. Every minute on board is accounted for. Watch-keeping, meals, loading-unloading and sleep.

Those days are gone when there was time to relax and play games. Today if a boat has to be lowered the requisite excess crew members are not available. The exercise impinges on your daily routine. It only means the crew will lose out on their precious sleeping time.

In an age when masters are constantly asked to improve efficiency and cut costs, commercial compulsions have tossed humanity out of the port hole.
Paise gino aur chalte bano. Count your money and scoot.
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Post Script: From 01st July 2006 amendments to IMO conventions entered into force regarding persons in distress at sea. The onus of providing succour to people in distress (and stowaways) is not the master’s alone – the contracting states are equally obligated. Secondly no company wallah can prevent the master to act as per his discretion to save lives at sea.

A small step taken to make the Master’s life easier.
Food for thought: If ship-owners and masters were to be rewarded and all expenses incurred towards helping people in distress reimbursed from a specially created fund, will it help us to discharge our duties more humanely?

Seafarers Fatigue

It is common for a guy on a ship to routinely follow a 100+ hour-week, month after month. It’s not surprising therefore to find serious accidents happening as a result of fatigue.

The well analyzed incident of grounding of Exxon Valdez that happened more than 20 years back had documented the effect of fatigue leading to the great oil-spill. Yet, even now we don’t have a cut and dried solution to address this issue of seafarers’ fatigue.

I mean, by now the authorities should had found some solution like putting more people, giving enough rest hours or compensating for the extra work (not by overtime allowance which will actually encourage working towards fatigue).

Having said that, in my own case I used to find work on board ship was better than say watching a movie in the smoke room or playing a video game. It acted as a balm to the loneliness we suffered on board.

The other day I was browsing through the jottings in my diary. I came across this noting made on 14th Jan 2002. At that point of time I had already spent two months on board the oil-tanker with another 4 months to go. I listed out various methods to overcome the pangs of loneliness:

- look for the company of others
- have lots of friends
- read plenty of books
- how about liquor? A drink or two or a bit more can help in passing the time
- developing a passion

Finally I came to the conclusion that within the limitations that I was in, the best antidote was to immerse myself in work.

As such none of us had come to the ship for a picnic. Once you are away from family and home the overriding aim is to earn the maximum so that we could go back to our lives ashore. That is if your life still existed back there.

A few hardened seafarers do not have any life back home. Some of them are the mal-adjusted people on board. With whom you are confined for months till either you sign off or that fellow goes. It’s quite stressful to say the least.

I remember all of us looked forward to short-hand allowance wherein we could earn the salary of the person temporarily absent from the ship. Nobody ever cribbed or complained on account of the extra work. Most times the company was quite happy to distribute the absent-seafarer's pay to others in a ratio as decided by the master. Less people meant lesser management problems.

Were we stressed? Oh Yes! But, at least in my case, I used to find stress was better than the boredom of doing nothing or suffering from pangs of loneliness. So we used to somehow pull along till the end of our contract. Those days getting a relief was not always a smooth affair. Many times a month or two would pass before we got our reliefs. Those were the toughest times to pass. Stress was high and so was the frustration of being away from the family.

A little stress is good. It puts you on the edge and you actually avoid accidents caused due to callous actions or over-confidence. But how much stress should we take and when do we put a stop to it? Difficult questions to ask to those who consider 105 hour-week normal.

IMO is seriously studying this complicated issue. The Warsash Maritime Academy is launching a project named Horizon under the sponsorship of the European Union. The project will address the concerns over the increasing human, financial and environmental losses of maritime accidents caused due to fatigue.

Its stated objective is ”To provide a realistic, high fidelity, voyage scenario in which watch-keeper cognitive performance can be measured.”

Though, I have my doubts whether it is possible to replicate in a class-room the real stress out there. Most watch-keepers treat simulators as another video game and I dare say so would the on-leave volunteers from the group of young second mates who are going to participate in this project.

How does one replicate job-related tensions, intimidation by seniors on-board and by the shore-staff, tide and weather conditions, inspections, (poor) working conditions of machinery, hawsers or other riggings?

At least a start is being made and the authorities have recognized that stress and fatigue are important factors towards human-errors. For which they should be lauded. After all studies have concluded that 80 percent of all the maritime accidents that are caused are due to human-errors.

An Expo Advisory Board

From time to time I attend this particular shipping exhibition board meetings at an impressive boardroom located on a high-rise overlooking the Arabian Sea. I am one of the regular members. More regular than most. Yet my contribution to the proceedings is merely as a spectator.

The chairman of this group is the head honcho of a shipping company. He is a lovable fellow and takes his job seriously. As a chairman-material he looks good to me. Of course I have not had the privilege of watching other chairmen from close quarters.

Sometimes I wonder why they call me at all. I did participate 3 years back in one of their shipping exhibitions with an independent stall. I guess where stall-owners are concerned I am one of the easily accessible types. Thereafter they put me as part of the committee for the last two exhibitions.

The owner of the exhibition is a business tycoon. I find him as an effusive fellow. Though short in stature he walks tall in the society. Ever smiling and ever optimistic. Nothing, I repeat nothing fazes him. Recession, slowdowns, competition, elusive customers and such, nothing affects his demeanor. In every bleak situation he sees a silver lining or an opportunity.

This tycoon openly praises the meeting attendees. He reserves his choicest praise for the chairman though. So much so that the chairman has to tell him to lay off.

“The worst thing anyone can do is to praise someone in front of him. I feel very embarassed”

Nevertheless, he laps up all the praise. Perhaps the small shipping community works in a clannish manner. Where applause and pat-on-the-backs create a pleasant atmosphere.

Some of the members are organizers. One of them is a South Indian fellow. I call him the smiling work-horse. I think his motto is:

“I will work till I fall down from exhaustion.”

The fellow has a sharp brain. In the meeting he rattles off all the details in a typical South Indian manner. Taking suggestions from everyone nodding and smiling, but is the final word on deciding upon the course of action. He gets done the maximum in the meeting. The other members who are delegated with other responsibilities are either too efficient or under-worked.

At every meeting there are some good snacks or good food. I like to eat the cashew-nuts and the pastries and all the other goodies. At the end of the meeting my plate is the cleanest.

Then there is this charming lady. The shipping company which belongs to our chairman is her big customer. I don’t know if such proximity to top bosses help in the business. Come to think of it, they are my customer too. Albeit a small one. But I don’t find any advantage in knowing the top bosses. Firstly they never talk about business. Secondly the actual dealings are controlled by the second rung leaders. In fact I find being bummy-chummy with the bosses is an impedance. The second rung bosses are not comfortable with you. Maybe I haven’t yet learnt how to be business savvy. The charming lady I’m sure is making a major part of her millions from this company.

Fine. So what do I gain from attending these meetings. Some of the industry captains now know me by face. Then again I don’t see too many shipowners or their reps in the board meetings. Once in a while the bureaucrats come. DG,JNPT chairman. Very rarely does the Nautical Advisor come.

At one of the lunch get-togethers I found myself talking to an old gentleman. He retired about 17 – 18 years back from shipping. But he continues to remain associated with the shipping industry one way or the other. He must be around 80.

I commented perhaps he is the oldest man in the shipping industry. Promptly he quipped

“Not me. I’m the third oldest. My cousin Ketan is the oldest. I joined in 1950. My cousin joined Great Eastern Shipping in 1948.”

The old gentleman narrated how after the second World War his cousin was sent to the US to purchase one of the liberty class ships which had become redundant after the war. The ship was bought at scrap price. Armed with that vessel and adding some more in the next few years the Great Eastern Shipping company started the Indian coastal trading.

One day I have to sit down with him and listen to all the stories he probably has in his repertoire. After all he has being associated with the Indian maritime industry for the last 60 years post independence.

Who will be my Competitor Tomorrow?

The first time I left my house to go to the hostel my mother packed an alarm clock with me. It was my most precious possession. Every night I would wind up the thing which would wake me up the next day. Without this I couldn’t had survived the military regimen.

The other day I accompanied my eighty year old mother to the market. Our old alarm clock had finally stopped working. We were disappointed. We hunted all around but we just didn’t find a shop where they could repair the clock. Neither could we find a shop selling mechanical alarm clocks to replace it.

When I read this interesting article Have Breakfast or be Breakfast by Professor Y.L.R. Moorthi from IIM Bangalore I realized the whole world had switched over to cell-phone alarms.

According to Moorthi some of the biggest companies in this world have faced competition from quarters they never expected. And guess what, many of these giants lost or disappeared from the scene.

Examples –
• The largest camera sellers in India – not Sony, Canon or Nikon but Nokia cameras bundled with cell-phones.
• The biggest music business in India – Airtel. By selling caller tunes.
• The toughest competitor to airlines – video-conferencing services.
• Who is giving the Indian film industry nightmares? IPL cricket with its shorter 20-20 version. This three-hour tamashaa (entertainment) is pulling the crowds away from the multiplexes.

Which set me thinking about navigation charts. In India BA paper charts rule. It used to infuriate a senior Indian hydrographer to no end. In his interaction with commercial shipping industry he found no one seemed to be using Indian charts. Once on a visit to a premier shipping college this hydrographer found under-trainees being taught from Capt Puri’s book on Chart Work where it stated ‘charts mean BA charts’. He found many navigators had not even heard of National Hydrographic Office at Dehra Dun which makes Indian charts.

Today who is the serious competitor to BA charts? Not NOAA or any other HO but C-Map charts now taken over by Jeppesen. In the eighties and nineties Dr. Giuseppe Carnevali and Fosco Bianchetti had led Navionics and C-Map digital charting companies respectively and created a market in the light marine sector where there was none. UKHO probably lost the opportunity here because developing electronic charts would have affected its colossal paper chart business

The big question is who will be the competitor to UKHO and Jeppesen tomorrow?

I don’t know. The competition could be lurking anywhere. Maybe it will be one of these cell companies or Yahoo or Google. If cell-phone companies can somehow enlarge the small screen then the map agencies will find them a difficult competitor.

We have to wait and see how the future unfolds.

Train Travel

Rahul Gandhi, the youth congress leader, came to Mumbai despite being ‘warned’ by Shiv Sena, took a train-ride like an everyday commuter. The media went ballistic. Daring the tiger in his own den. Even if the tiger is just a paper tiger now. Still it was sweet news for the rest of the country who are fed up with the divisive politics of Sena. At least that’s what I thought.

When I asked Kuki, my neighbour’s daughter, her opinion, she was dismissive about the whole thing. Just a tamashaa.

"Let him travel everyday by train like we do. Commuting for one day doesn’t mean anything."

It reminded me of my days in the train. And a piece I wrote after a bomb-attack. I was quite bitter about the sympathy Mumbaikars got from the rest of the country. Mainly because only regular commuters understand the plight of a fellow-commuter. Any way here’s what I wrote in July 2006.

In the Warzone

Four 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 54 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 subsidize 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 mind and space. Please keep the slums, beggars, drug addicts and those living on the life’s edge 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.