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.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
3 Lessons
I counted sixteen Admirals, retired and serving, in the audience that had filled the auditorium. They had all come at the annual seminar of the Indian Maritime Foundation (IMF) including a retired Air Chief and a serving Lt General.
The most remarkable person I met in the gathering was Geeta Vir, wife of the chairman of IMF. This 75 year old lady had spent more than 50 years married to the Navy first and then the merchant navy. She stood by her husband in the Navy. Later when he became a Master in commercial shipping she sailed with him for ten years. She had a lot of anecdotes to tell of her experience at sea. Like crossing the Pacific in a storm, entering far-flung ports, dealing with various situations that only a mariner faces. Right now she was running around organizing the whole show. She had the energy and alertness that would put people half her age to shame.
Though it was ten years since I left the Navy I knew most of the senior officers present there. This was an impressive attendance. I felt a little nervous to face the audience and speak on my subject – Electronic Charts.
In my younger days I had known many of these admirals as high and mighty personalities. Whatever they spoke was taken as pearls of wisdom. On this day too they were hogging the mike. Each of them giving their considered opinion. Except that they seemed out of sorts and quite out of touch with the ground reality. Mostly they were harping on their past glories..
“When I was commanding this (or heading that) etc. etc…..”
It was disappointing to see the once powerful men reduced to such a stature.
My paper was well received. Both the contents and delivery were appreciated. At tea-time many came over to congratulate and talk about the subject. I realized my previous naval rank didn’t matter. Just having the knowledge mattered.
Are there any lessons here? I have listed out three.
Lesson 1.
Stick to your strengths and prepare like hell. If you hone your knowledge continuously and remain abreast with the latest developments in your field you cannot go wrong.
Lesson 2.
Appointments and positions may all go away with time. Ultimately it is your personal skills that carry the day. Knowledge, power of communication, pleasant demeanor, physical fitness, mental alertness and such qualities will always stand by you.
Lesson 3.
Professional life is one aspect. Family and social life is another. You have to have a balance, so that one doesn’t suffer because of the other. Imagine the plight of a career-obsessed person who has neglected his family to reach the top. After he retires, which he must, he finds he doesn’t have either family or career.
These lessons are nothing new. We come across them in different forms at different times in our life. Once in a while they have to be re-affirmed.
As they say – “Live Your Values”.
The most remarkable person I met in the gathering was Geeta Vir, wife of the chairman of IMF. This 75 year old lady had spent more than 50 years married to the Navy first and then the merchant navy. She stood by her husband in the Navy. Later when he became a Master in commercial shipping she sailed with him for ten years. She had a lot of anecdotes to tell of her experience at sea. Like crossing the Pacific in a storm, entering far-flung ports, dealing with various situations that only a mariner faces. Right now she was running around organizing the whole show. She had the energy and alertness that would put people half her age to shame.
Though it was ten years since I left the Navy I knew most of the senior officers present there. This was an impressive attendance. I felt a little nervous to face the audience and speak on my subject – Electronic Charts.
In my younger days I had known many of these admirals as high and mighty personalities. Whatever they spoke was taken as pearls of wisdom. On this day too they were hogging the mike. Each of them giving their considered opinion. Except that they seemed out of sorts and quite out of touch with the ground reality. Mostly they were harping on their past glories..
“When I was commanding this (or heading that) etc. etc…..”
It was disappointing to see the once powerful men reduced to such a stature.
My paper was well received. Both the contents and delivery were appreciated. At tea-time many came over to congratulate and talk about the subject. I realized my previous naval rank didn’t matter. Just having the knowledge mattered.
Are there any lessons here? I have listed out three.
Lesson 1.
Stick to your strengths and prepare like hell. If you hone your knowledge continuously and remain abreast with the latest developments in your field you cannot go wrong.
Lesson 2.
Appointments and positions may all go away with time. Ultimately it is your personal skills that carry the day. Knowledge, power of communication, pleasant demeanor, physical fitness, mental alertness and such qualities will always stand by you.
Lesson 3.
Professional life is one aspect. Family and social life is another. You have to have a balance, so that one doesn’t suffer because of the other. Imagine the plight of a career-obsessed person who has neglected his family to reach the top. After he retires, which he must, he finds he doesn’t have either family or career.
These lessons are nothing new. We come across them in different forms at different times in our life. Once in a while they have to be re-affirmed.
As they say – “Live Your Values”.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Loneliness of a Mariner
In my younger days, when I was in the Navy, I tried to behave as a gallant officer should. I was always on the lookout for rendering chivalrous services, especially for a hapless damsel or for pretty young things.
Consider this passage:
“..what is a gentleman ? I’ll answer it now: a Royal Naval officer is, in a general sort of way, though, of course, there may be a black sheep among them here and there. I fancy it is just the wide sea and the breath of God’s winds that washes their hearts and blows the bitterness out of their minds and makes them what men ought to be.”
It was written by H. Rider Haggard in King Solomon’s Mines in 1886! He had beautifully captured the underlying character of a navy man a hundred and twenty five years back.
The other day my wife, Sumita beckoned me to the computer.
“Have a look at this.”
I was in for a pleasant surprise. Ryan Skinner, a media fellow whom I had met at Norway had some handsome comments on my writing. He called my blog ‘limpid’. After chatting with me he had deduced that many mariners wrote well because they were lonely at sea.
Ryan had helpfully depicted a serene picture of an anchorage showing a number of vessels in the background. All of them uniformly facing towards the port. The focus was on a lone cargo ship forlornly waiting under the grey skies.
I could imagine there was a lonely second mate doing his 12 to 4 watch on the bridge. We have a private joke amongst Indian watchkeepers. It goes like this –
Who do you generally find moving around in the night?
A Whore, Chôr and 12 to 4.
Chôr, which rhymes with whore, means a thief in Hindi.
Basically it is a mild dig on the second mate who does a 12 to 4 watch for his entire tenure of 6 to 9 months in the ship.
I remember when our ship entered the port I would explore the new place. It was best done jogging on my two feet. It used to give me a lot of pleasure to watch the citizens going about their daily work. I would look at the parents escorting their children to the school. Or a housewife engrossed in buying vegetables, carefully choosing the freshest of the lot which would go on their dinner table later in the day.
I would pass through quiet residential areas, looking safe and secure, and wonder about the people who lived there.
Was I lonely? Yes. Actually I used to consider myself more in the mould of “loneliness of a long-distance runner”. And transformed into a lonely mariner at sea.
Consider this passage:
“..what is a gentleman ? I’ll answer it now: a Royal Naval officer is, in a general sort of way, though, of course, there may be a black sheep among them here and there. I fancy it is just the wide sea and the breath of God’s winds that washes their hearts and blows the bitterness out of their minds and makes them what men ought to be.”
It was written by H. Rider Haggard in King Solomon’s Mines in 1886! He had beautifully captured the underlying character of a navy man a hundred and twenty five years back.
The other day my wife, Sumita beckoned me to the computer.
“Have a look at this.”
I was in for a pleasant surprise. Ryan Skinner, a media fellow whom I had met at Norway had some handsome comments on my writing. He called my blog ‘limpid’. After chatting with me he had deduced that many mariners wrote well because they were lonely at sea.
Ryan had helpfully depicted a serene picture of an anchorage showing a number of vessels in the background. All of them uniformly facing towards the port. The focus was on a lone cargo ship forlornly waiting under the grey skies.
I could imagine there was a lonely second mate doing his 12 to 4 watch on the bridge. We have a private joke amongst Indian watchkeepers. It goes like this –
Who do you generally find moving around in the night?
A Whore, Chôr and 12 to 4.
Chôr, which rhymes with whore, means a thief in Hindi.
Basically it is a mild dig on the second mate who does a 12 to 4 watch for his entire tenure of 6 to 9 months in the ship.
I remember when our ship entered the port I would explore the new place. It was best done jogging on my two feet. It used to give me a lot of pleasure to watch the citizens going about their daily work. I would look at the parents escorting their children to the school. Or a housewife engrossed in buying vegetables, carefully choosing the freshest of the lot which would go on their dinner table later in the day.
I would pass through quiet residential areas, looking safe and secure, and wonder about the people who lived there.
Was I lonely? Yes. Actually I used to consider myself more in the mould of “loneliness of a long-distance runner”. And transformed into a lonely mariner at sea.
Monday, December 21, 2009
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.
“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.
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