School Memories: One-Act Play-Eklavya

 

           As I was sitting in my balcony overlooking the golf-course and the vast Arabian Sea almost in a William Wordsworth’s Daffodil kinda moment, vacant and pensive, to be precise, a few fleeting memories rushed past me…… some good old memories of my school days.  Right now at this moment in August 2025, when I am penning it down, I am still wondering does the year 1995 qualify to be called as a ‘Long time ago’? Usually that phrase could make the reader visualise the author as some senior citizen, but hey I am just in my mid 40s...just to make it clear and to avoid imagining me as some good old timer! Let that be my disclaimer notice. 

           So, as in everyone’s lives, the school days are bound to be eventful, no matter how miniscule it is.  I am sure, everyone will have such memories.  Technically speaking a gazillion tera bytes of a mix n match of events!! Might sound a little overkill, but still the memory-size holds good.   

           This story which I intend to narrate here is from the year 1995, when I was in my 9^th Class, St. Albert’s High School, Ernakulam.  The school had celebrated its 100^th year of establishment just three years back i.e, in 1992.  Currently in 2025, the establishment has clocked 133 years of foundation-laying for many a boys n men of the city churning out eminent men including Judges, Policemen, Politicians, Poets, Artists, Story tellers etc. …..however, when it came to their real identity I am sure my seniors as well as successors shall simply quote the title ‘Alberts’ with pride, sugar-coated with a huge amount of simplicity. 

Nevertheless, being an all boys’ school comes with the occasional occupational hazards too and consequently the school was slightly infamous for all the good reasons too….first of all being one of the largest Boys’ only school in the heart of the city of Kochi….followed by its ‘strategic location’ which gave access to nearly all the movie theatres, the nearest one being a triplet named ‘Sarita-Savita-Sangeeta’.  There were three screens in a way it was a multiplex as the new terminology says, for us it was just the names of three ladies!!! Also the other theatres namely, Sridhar where all Hollywood movies were played, Menaka, Padma for all Tamizh movies, Kavita and Shenoy’s theatres.  At present Sridhar theatre does not exist, so is Menaka.  In fact a huge shopping mall was constructed in the location of old Menaka theatre and now its called Penta Menaka.  Also, the little Marine drive with a walkway and lush green grounds etc made the school life quite an ‘interesting one’.  Even though the school had a large campus, and we were expected to be happy with whatever was provided, our honourable predecessors thought otherwise and extended the limits farther (‘further’ at this juncture would be an unquantified word)….and we just followed the suite.  In a way, all the teachers of the school were viewed akin to ‘technicians from a Nuclear reactor’ rather than educators.  The entropy of the universe always increases, aye ?

The year 1995 was a kinda heartbreak-year for many of us since a whole bunch of us found ourselves at the ‘end-of-the-road’ situation since the last school where many of us were studying could not acquire the required license for operating a High-School.  Notwithstanding the efforts put in by the school management and other external political pressure, whether applied or not, the licence was kept at abeyance and eventually denied.  So, in a manner it was a huge heartbreak for us and especially the class 8 boys, those fresh teenagers faced the quintessential question which ideally should have been kept for a later part of life were posed upon us suddenly.  The question being “What next?”.  With no other options, other than to bid goodbye to Don Bosco School, Vaduthala, Kochi, we were made to fend for ourselves. 

 For many of us, St.Albert’s School became the primary option and almost 25 of us opted for the same school.  The school management were flabbergasted with an influx of a large number of students and consequently a separate division was allotted to accommodate all of us.  Along came a few others also from other divisions as well as from other schools.  From the tight n all-round monitored atmosphere of our old school, St.Albert’s gave everyone of us a fresh perspective.  Frankly, it was the society in a microcosm, in its raw format.  Also, interacting with other pupils were an eye opener.  Well I am not, in anywhichways, trying to belittle our erstwhile school, but at that moment the current ‘regime’ was a breath of freedom…..opening up to interactions of various kinds.  The co-curricular activities (official as well as unofficial) included Poetry club, movie discussions, politics, technological advancements upon bicycles, various reflector stickers for (again) bicycles, spare parts (again bicycles), semi-bell bottom pants.  Watching movies also were considered honorary subjects namely, running to Sridhar theatre for First Day First Shows….where all of us held our breath when Pierce Brosnan did the Bungee Jump from Arkangel Weapon Facility dam in Golden Eye (not gonna discuss Famke Jansen’s death hold with her thighs as Xenia Onatopp), laughing out loud when Batman asked Robin “What’s the R stands for ?” pointing at the insignia on his chest and me and my buddy Jose Samson in unison said “Rrrrõbbinn”, obviously with the Malayali-fied English accent but the actor pronounced it was “Zhhaaabin” in Batman & Robin, jaws hitting the floor when Demi Moore did an…ahem….in Disclosure etc. etc. etc. Well, damn, the school days all of a sudden became colourful with Dolby stereo! 

 By the month of September- October there was a call for auditions.  Because, the Sub-District School Arts Festival was being scheduled in the coming months.  The auditions were for One-Act Play or a short drama.  I remember reading the notification in the school notice board but wasn’t interested much.  There was a concrete reason for that too because since 1989 onwards I was part of the drama team at various schools.  I clearly remember acting in the same role in 1989 and 1990, as one of the three-kings from the Bible.  Maybe I fit in the billet akin to that East African persona perfectly and apparently never requiring any concealer powder or similar skin lightening make-up applications! 1993 I was playing another student in a musical drama “Do Re Mi” from Sounds of Music, rest of the years I was in one or the other entertainment programs. 

 But 1995, had something very unique for me….something which made my 9^th class brain think that ‘I was made for this role’, with a great amount of self-persuasion, of course.  However, as mentioned earlier I was not interested or rather chose not to poke my head into the practicing room for this drama.  But my classmate Mr. Vipin Atley, who is currently one of the busiest movie directors in Malayalam, had another plans.  In fact, he had all the qualities for a movie director then and he was desperately searching for a befitting boy to play the role of ‘Eklavya’, a tragic character from the Hindu epic Mahabharata.  He kept pestering me and eventually asked me to be there in the practice room.  Well…I obliged, in kind. 

 Obviously, I think Vipin overlooked me because in the fable, Eklavya was a native boy, who was born and brought up in the jungles, learned and horned his skills in warfare, especially archery, by secretly deploying the ‘watch-n-learn’ method from the great guru Dronacharya.  Apparently Eklavya should be kinda lean-mean machine…..and I was a chubby guy who weighed over some 60+ kilos for a 15-16 year old boy.  In short, Eklavya was not obese!!!  But some kind of curiosity made me go and watch the rehearsal sessions for this one-act play.  As the days passed by, the characters and appropriate boys for the role were selected except Eklavya.  The acting coach-cum-director.  Sincere apologies I am not clearly remembering his name, but I remember his face.  If I am not mistaken his name was Shri. Andiyappan and he was working in the Telephones.  Anyways, the coach asked me to pitch in and narrate the dialogues till the time they find an appropriate guy for the role. 

 So, I started reading the dialogues in between the act, representing Eklavya.  Initially, it was a plain-toned narration and as ’n’ when time passed my reading style unknowingly changed.  The delivery of dialogues became more personal to me, as I started to feel the agony and deep rooted pain of the character in the entire act.  Why he was being pulled back everytime? why he was chosen to be sacrificed? why he couldn’t show up for himself? Why him? Why not the other characters? Why not Yudhishtira or Bhima or Arjuna or Nakul or Sahadev?.....why ? Why ? WHY? Why Eklavya should back down? In my entire experience on stage, this became the most engaging event….or I thought so!  And one fine day, the School Headmaster arrived to check the progress.  Well, there was no Eklavya, but me: the makeshift character. 

 The Headmaster, Shri. Vimson, was a no-nonsense man…..a rough n tough person and also a very learned man who conducted his English classes filled with engaging monologues, comedy and quintessential beating with his trademark ‘cane’ which landed with a specific force exactly on the base of the students’ butt muscles!!  Kinda precision which (in later years) Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer projected on clay as well as grass courts! Discipline ensues…..!  So when The Headmaster arrived the acting coach and associated Teacher-in-Charge explained the situation they were in regarding the absence of the main character.  I think (I might be wrong), they were whispering something to him and then final verdict came from him, in a purely Hollywood fashion, “Let’s see what the boy has got!”.  Voila !!! and both the coach and Teacher-in-Charge smiled at me, apparently giving me a go-ahead for the role of Eklavya. 

For the first time, I was afoot, shed the dialogue papers, and I could see all the other boys were ready, brimming with confidence and they never needed the prompting of dialogues too! In a matter of 15 to 20 minutes or so the presentation was over.  Well…. we presented without much hassle.  The Headmaster also proved to be a man with a penchant for theatre where he also provided his valuable insights in respect of body language, breathing patterns, eye contacts, requisite mannerisms etc. providing us a total master-class! In today’s terminology.  So…..by the end of the session I became the lead character…..technically a downdate, but an illuminating one.  We boys had a re-approach on the entire set up and the practice sessions became more and more entertaining one. 

The storyline of our one-act play was a bit revolutionary in its set up.  In the epic Mahabharata, believed to be written by Ved Vyas, a revered sage, Ekalavya’s representation was a shrewd reminder of how the power hungry politics could manipulate things and people for selfish gains.  The intertwining paradoxes of Duty and Righteousness, free will and fate, the temporariness of Life and Power, the tussle between the morality and immorality etc. were explained within its capacity in this epic consisting around a hundred thousand couplets.  Also, the epic as we read it today, was compiled from various versions of the story over a period of 50 years spanning from early 1900s to the mid ‘60s.  One should remember that before this ‘compilation’ activity these couplets were being circulated through sermons, folk songs and plays, celebrations etc, thereby becoming an augmenting base for the religion of Hinduism.  On compilation, the edition was printed and apparently distributed all over the world therefore unifying the storyline.  The presentation of the epic was so elaborate that people started believing its narratives and almost 95% of the readers assumed that this was just another bunch of good guys vs bad guys story….can’t blame them either. 

It is observed that the original author Sage Ved Vyas had found himself in a huge dilemma in between the couplets as who was right and wrong.  The human thought process and consciousness works in a mysterious pattern in all probability nullifying predictable patterns.  Because, unknown to the compilers-cum-authors, the book triggered a thought process where people started to classify the Indian society en masse, already underlining the existing crisis, or in other words a human-degradation program, called Caste system.  Our character Eklavya also could fit perfectly within this system!!!

 So, in our one-act play the narrative a ‘What if?’ situation was injected into the lead character.  Adapted from a Malayalam novel of the same name ‘Ekalavya’, as we were told.  So the question was, what if, Eklavya had his own opinion? And while drafting out an Interim Confidential Report upon the boy, why did the Chief Trainer cum Commandant Dronacharya sought his right Thumb as a severance for his supposedly ‘online’ classes?  Was it a thought whether Eklavya, a tribesman was equal in his talents as the royalty Arjuna?  If he were immensely talented as equal as Arjuna in his fighting capabilities wouldn’t that set a narrative that anybody could learn notwithstanding their social status or conditions or skin colour or mental status?  Or even if a person of lower social status or in any status, could turn blind because of his faith?  Or were he easily manipulated by people of higher social status?  A lot of mind stirring queries were raised in the act.  Apparently, these questions became the key points in our discussions and maybe we brushed up the reasons for birth of movements like naxalism, piracy etc. 

So, finally the character in our one-act play succumbs to the directives (or request with strictly no RSVP) of guru Dronacharya.  But he does have his reservations about the weird request and apparently questions every single character in the play and finally cuts his thumb and presents it to guru Dronacharya.  Anyways, the dress rehearsals of the play were carried out on a Friday and the competition was on come Monday.  The team was performing well within the boundaries of the practice room.  The costumes were taken on rent.  Apparently due to the envisaged size of the main character Eklavya was ‘Medium’ and mine was ‘Extra Large’, the fitting became a cause of concern.  The Director had an idea, to wear it slightly above my waist…..sounds good and did a trial and as expected it fitted well ……..matter closed!  Come Monday morning we reached the venue at around 9 o’clock.  It was within the city at another Government School, Edapally. 

 Now talking about the team, except me and Vipin, rest all were newbies on the stage.  That one issue was pointed out by the boys themselves and a calculated risk was taken by the administration.  Whatever it is shall be dealt with in situ. 

 As we were on the chair, one by one, for make-up and special effects, one thing which I clearly remembered was that, even though it was a Monday morning, the Director who doubled up as the Make-up artist, was already in ‘high spirits’!!!  The smell of some hardcore liquor filled up the nostrils while he was applying make-up on me.  And on one corner of the room two more staff from the school were making a prosthetic!!! Do remember that in the story Eklavya, he had to sever his right thumb and present it to Dronacharya as a token of his pact!   So, the prosthetic for the thumb was being made of wet paper as the inner casing and covered with soaked Pappadams, painted it with some brown shade matching my skin tone !!!! For visual effects, a small plastic bubble of red-dye with water was filled and placed inside the casing so that it creates the required visual impact for blood.  So when the time comes to enact I have to act like taking an arrow, show like I was cutting my thumb, squeeze the prosthetic, let the red dye ooze out, place it on a ) already positioned leaf on the floor, and present it to Dronacharya.  Voila !!!!

By around 11 we were ready.  One more final round of dry run, dress check and we were good to go.  We could hear the voices of other teams’ performances and it did make the already on-flight butterflies in our tummies enter into heavy turbulence!!! Tension was rising….mouths running dry….urinal bladders suddenly started to indicate ‘full capacity’ signals….heart beats on an overdrive….beads of sweat appearing on everyone’s forehead!!!!!....well the game is about to be started.  And around 12 our team was called up.  Our guy who was playing the role of Bhima, Mr. Venkitesh, who was a childhood friend of mine standing six feet two with a heavy set was at the epitome of tension….poor Venku!

 As the act started, everything went well, but the tension within Yudhisthira and Bhima had the best of them, eventually mis-positioning themselves on the stage.  Consequently, when Dronacharya was expecting Bhima on his left found Yudhishtira instead!! Chaos ensued……!!! Dronacharya panicked and eventually did a 180 degree turn making the situation more chaotic.  The supposedly tough guys, Yudhisthira and Bhima who were instructed to placed their hands on hips in a warrior’s pose let their guard down and was sweating profusely, eventually forgetting their cue dialogue. 

Then came Eklavya’s sentimental dialogue delivery where I had to kneel down and cut my thumb and other actions as mentioned earlier.  The quiver of Eklavya had a malfunction and when I pulled out an arrow it missed the crucial part i.e, the arrow head itself!!!  Hey, anyway it’s a make belief aye? So I enacted the cutting of thumb, keeping the prosthetic which was concealed with glue in my right palm, as I was delivering the dialogue along with the cutting action, the Pappadam-prosthetic fell down! I quickly grabbed it with an “Aaargghhhh!” voice showing the pain of severing the thumb.  Now, I picked up the thumb and squeezed it but instead of red-dye oozing out, the prosthetic itself failed to function.  Remember in the previous paragraph I had mentioned about mouth drying? along with that the soaked pappadams also dried up! This quick dry event closed the small hole within the prosthetic thumb through which the red-dye was supposed to splatter.  On a split second damage control I squeezed the thumb and a stream of red dye splattered in the wrong direction!  Instead of me it fell on Dronacharya’s dress !!! Obviously the quick reaction from anyone would be to jump….and so did Dronacharya! While all these ‘string of unforeseen eventualities’ were happening I thought I heard muffled laughs from the audience….or did I ???

Somehow, the act was completed and when we all were coming out to the backstage our teachers and the director was laughing out to the core.  The typical ROFLMAO type! Well…we also couldn’t help to join with a fake smile, the same one when one does in being caught offguard.  While debriefing, the Director pointed out the mistakes from the point of view of a spectator.  Obviously, the positional shift of Bhima and Yudhishtira were unnoticed, neither did the pappadam fiasco nor its red-dye splattering.  The one thing which stood out during all these was the frock (almost a micro-mini skirt) of Ekalavya which was one size smaller and had to be worn above my waist level.  And when I had to kneel for cutting my thumb, my underwear was exposed which made the audience burst into a laughter!  

Murphy and all his relatives were eventually having a day out on our drama finale…indeed.  So, technically speaking, the tribal character was wearing an underwear which was exposed eventually nullifying his emotional and sentimental questions towards the other characters!  Silly audience and their priorities…..!  Well, after the quick debrief, we were provided lunch and everything was forgotten by the sight of food.  We kept aside our vagaries and thoughts on failures and focussed on our food.  Well, Sambar, Rice and some curries do have an amazing healing capabilities. 

As years passed by, friends chose to move on different paths, the downdating occasions kept happening in life, Murphy also had a huge role to play, tragedies ensued and in later years they all proved to be real comedies and the cycle continues.  People still read the epic, believes it is still a good guys’ winning over the bad guys.  Eklavya’s legacy continued and all his future versions kept on severing their thumbs…once again the cycle continues. 

 

*****

 

 

 

Stories of no guts & no glory: Parodies of legacies

 

Now that the decisions have been made,

Clearly they omitted the bunch,

We knew this was bound to happen,

As we'been hearing the clarion call,

Yet we chose to be in our deep sleep.

               The decisions' 'been made ,

               The time listening to the hunch,

               has come n gone fruits nor ripened,

               The fortress built so far, about to fall!

               Maybe its time's revenge that make us the sheep.

Now that your time has come,

I shall not wish you all the best,

I shall not wish you fairwinds,

Nor fathoms below your keel,

But I will not grin either!

               Yes it hurts to know what's about to come,

               The future being shown is not just,

               All heroes turned short of blind,

               Legacies made sense as nails

               And I shall not grin either!!

All I can wish you is pain and agony,

with a great amount of parody,

All I know is that you will walk through this fire,

And shine bright like a lighthouse for them!

               I know there are more leeches around this, many

               They'll vouch to stand yet vanish when its bloody,

               Remember, to fight with all your might and fire,

               You fight or flight, may time make you a shining gem !

Stories of No guts & No Glory: Conversations about a loss

 

I always wished that my stories started like those textbook style “once upon a time there was a……” so on and so forth, but by the time I realized it, that moment came and gone quite unknowingly.  However, just by being a listener to many I always get a ring-side view of the latters’ stories which started in that same fabled manner!  Lucky folks! 

I always invited some kind of traction where someone, be it a known person or a stranger, comes and talks to me about many a things.  As a dear friend pointed out as (or maybe she was wrong), “my personal psychologist”…..Hell! that’s one nightmarishly dangerous involvement because even though the latter dumps all their vagaries and pain, it is for me to process it and walk through that path and bruise myself as the story moves.  Honestly, I ain’t a psychology expert nor a trained advisor in any which ways and the best I could do always were to lend an ear.  That’s all I could do….just to listen to them.  Maybe that is one bane and boon for me to carry till the end of the journey....maybe I am slotted for this catharsis of stories which pass through me.

  A month back a very sad event took place within my circle where one of my staff lost her son.  A handsome little boy of eight, hale n hearty like any other child but had to undergo a minor surgery deep in his neck.  The surgery was completed and the kid was under observation however within two hours he developed an unknown complication where he was observed to be gasping for air and eventually passed away, right in front of her. 

It happened somewhere around 1830 hrs and none among my office staff came to know about it till around 2200 hrs.  The people who came to know rushed to her home reaching there by midnight.  Early morning the body was taken for autopsy since some questions went unanswered.  The procedures were carried out and the body was handed over to the kith n kin and was subsequently taken to their village, around 100 kms from my location.  I came to know about it the next day only but by the time I was informed the cortege was already being moved towards the crematorium in that village. 

Prior to this incident the lady had informed me about the upcoming surgery of her son and that he was slightly worried about the same.  In fact the kid was so worried that he denied undergoing the surgery.  A certain growth which was obstructing his windpipe rendered him in a painful situation where he was unable to lie down and sleep.  The little kid had to sit and sleep, throughout the night for over six months.  While the situation being narrated I casually told her that if that is the case then I shall visit him and talk to him so that to make him comfortable about the surgery.  As usual, I defaulted in my promise, and couldn’t make it and before anything could have been done, that poor kid is gone. 

The guilt started to cut me, like razor which swished through subtly and make realize the pain afterwards.  Wondered how cruel time has been leaving me in a labyrinth of thoughts.  The come weekend I decided to pay a visit, a solo trip.  My colleagues who visited her home had forwarded me the location.  And I set off for their village.  The hussle-bustle of this big city slowly dissipated as and when the roads lead me to the outskirts.  Yes, Sundays have a separate warmth and vacant feeling which no other day can provide. 

I reached the village, paid my obeisance.  He looked so vibrant.  Such a sweet little boy, calm and composed he appeared.  He dreamt to become an Officer in the Navy, he was the life of the kids’ gang in that village, he was their whole n soul of that village.  Gone too soon!  I felt the pain, as a father, as a brother and moreover as an idiot who broke his promise. 

Well, men don’t cry, but in some unseen corners within the mind we all cry….I did too.  I drove back home.  Two weeks later the lady joined back the office.  We all did comfort her but no words can settle a mother’s loss.  As days passed by she went more secluded in her thoughts even though I instructed her immediate chief to keep her engaged in the work as leaving her freely would render her wander in her painful thoughts, or so I thought. 

Yesterday, as I was in my cubicle and she came to meet me.  I offered her a chair and a glass of water, which she drank hesitantly and started to speak in a very feeble voice.  She was struggling to speak as there’s physical weakness and a fog of confusion whether to speak to me or not.  Nevertheless, she started to say…..

Post surgery, the boy was brought back to the ward and was under sedation.  Since only one by-stander was allowed she was alongside him.  She remembers clearly that the kid was fast asleep.  In between the hospital staff had asked for fetching a certain medicine from the dispensary in ground floor.  She heeded and fetched the medicine quickly and returned to the room within 4 to 5 minutes only.  On return what she saw was the kid was struggling to breath with vomit and sputum coming out through his mouth and nose.  She raised alarm and the attending nurses and a doctor came running to the scene.  CPR was administered but failed to revive the pulse.  I know I am rushing here but let the exact word-to-word version be within me as it could be disturbing for many to comprehend. 

It was a terrible loss and above all being a helpless witness to it added an unprecedented agony to her.  Now she thinks that she shouldn’t have allowed for the surgery and moreover shouldn’t have left him even for a minute, the God of death was waiting to snatch him and her absence allowed him to get the boy – and in the end she has taken the entire burden upon her. 

Apparently, she has a sibling who is mentally retarded and solely is depended on her.  The lady didn’t want to marry as her sister was in such a state but somehow things passed by and now her own family and in-laws started to nag quoting “instead of that little boy, it was that mentally retarded sister of her’- kinda narratives.  Imagine, what this all boiled up into!

Why she wanted to speak to me is that she hasn’t told this fetching medicine event to anyone else as she cannot afford another round of accusation from the relatives side especially her in-laws’.  Also, how her faith in supporting her mentally retarded sister has been brought closer to jeopardize.  The lady cried a lot, perhaps watching this incident through CCTV my boss also came up to my cubicle.  We both let her cry…the immeasurable agony being ring-side viewers.  My boss assuming that she is still mourning, but unaware of what she told me only, allowed her to take a break for a few days.  But knowing her I am sure she would come back to office as there’s no other place which can grant her a little solace. 

The autopsy report is still awaited as a brief analysis of the internal organs is yet to be collated.  They shall take up the case according to the autopsy report, as of now, me and my colleagues are giving her all support.  But then again, the strange manner people open up to me once again amuses me…..why me? Why ??

Maybe my waiting for a story to start with "once upon a time.." is not yet come or maybe there aint any standard setting for starting a story and that I should thank that unknown spirit who chose me to be a listener…..nothing much to say! 

Seafarer's Log: Oral-kaicha Part II

 

     The work progressed, the ebbs and floods of tides kept nourishing the flora and fauna on and off, the sightings of crocodiles and some alien kind of fishes kept happening.  Occassional visits and gauging of the tide pole continued by water snakes….poor things, aye !

            One day in between the field work, me and my team carried out a reconnaissance…..and went ahead further north of the area, to see the location of our next phase of survey.  There is one more tourist attraction ahead of the channel called “Parrot Island”, apparently it’s the parrots’ headquarters of entire Andaman Islands…..at any given time there shall be a huge flock of green parrots!!  The tourist boats which operated from Baratang Jetty to this island had a light draught and occasionally enticed my coxswain to increase the speed and possibly replicate a hollywood boat chase scene.  Well, that never happened, since I had a seasoned crew behind the wheel.  The shallow draught of the tourist boats allowed them a closer maneuvering near to the mangroves of the island and provided the tourists an up-close-and-personal view to this ‘Pandemonium’. 

My boat surged ahead slowly because in comparison to the tourist boats, my boat had a larger draught and with every knot of speed the draught could increase; in seamanship terminology its called the “Squat”.  Two of my crew were positioned on the bows basically acting as a lookout.  Because, due to lack of usage of the channel, apart from the lighter draught boats, there existed a higher possibility of encountering floatsams, big n small, and my lookouts could guide the forward movement accordingly.  At any given day it can damage my boat hull and/or the propeller.  A damage in my boat meant that I have to stop till my backup arrives.  Fear can creep inside you, but then again, all the surveyors who passed through this channel before me surveying every bit of this place must have felt the same…..!!

 

The surprising point was to see depths in my echo sounder ranging between 5 meters to 30 meters, indicative of a peculiar seabed.  The echo rolls (the paper trail of digital reading) showed thick dark lines indicative of a solid sea bottom.  For a normal plane area, the seabed can be (in all probability) found to be flat but this channel’s trend turned out to be an intriguing one.  As my boat maneuvered on to the left side of the corner a single rock stood proud, with approximate dimensions 3 meters in height, 4 meters in width and around a meter in thickness.  A simple rock, but a rare one since the mangroves did not grow around it but at the back of it.  And Murphy Struck, in the form of a stray rope which entangled with one of the propeller of my boat.  The affected engine was shut down immediately.  The control of the boat was restricted to one engine only.  My team went into damage control mode!  To cut the rope using a seaman-knife.  These things are a normal exigency in field work.  Generally carried out by someone jumping into the water and do the job as they float.  But the situation didn’t warrant for such a step otherwise one of my boy would become an afternoon snack for them Giant Salt Water Crocodiles!!

Luckily my mechanic’s tool box had a hacksaw blade and the job became easier without getting into the water.  As the grinding of the rope with the blade started, the boat was brought slowly alongside our good old rock and passed the forward and aft ropes.  I sat on the transom (the aft side of the boat) just to observe the progress of the work.  

My senior most crew Pandey asked me a trivial question, out of the blue.  “How would this place look like during last Ice Age ??”, and looked at me.  Now, that’s a classic LBW way to be out in Cricket!!

One simple question, which acted like that “Limitless Pill” which went through my neurons, activating some pieces of memories…..the memories of reading Graham Hancock’s book and the chapter about Ice Age!  It would sound too megalomaniacal of me to speak like this, but lets agree to disagree, because of two reasons; one, the centre of narration is me, and two, I had read the book and wondered …just wondered how it would look like ?. 

Pandeyji was all in thrill, and that split moment of silence caught the attention of my crew too, except the guy who was cutting the rope with the hacksaw blade.  I started with an insurance that I might be wrong, but I shall try to be correct as far as possible.  Rest we all can imagine.  And I started the narration. 

During the Glacial maximum or the peak period of the last Ice Age which was around 20,000 years ago that the sea shore would have been at a place which has a depth of 120 meters during these times.  If so, this entire Middle Strait a.k.a Godam Juru a.k.a Amit La Boicha Passage would be a Canyon!! a canyon of volcanic origin.  Whose entry point would have been on the Eastern Side of the Middle Strait and end on West at a place called Port Anson (Possibly named after 18^th Century British Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Anson, who circumnavigated the Globe).  Since the seashore would be far away there wont be any mangroves too.  The highly imaginative analysis made my crew attentive. 

Then something happened, which brought in a paradigm shift in climatic condition around 13000 BC which was the end of Ice Age and from then to the current scenario of sea level.  The tides then slowly sculpted the landscape as and when the waters claimed the land in minute graduations.  The curiosity never ended there, as one of my guy asked about the civilization then. 

Since the story would be never ending, I told as a “figure of speech”, that maybe where our boat is secured, this standing rock, would have been a geographic marker for an unknown civilization who had their hunting grounds or hamlets on the land which is now underneath us!!  Pandeyji took it one step ahead, in a melodramatic manner that  maybe this is where they might have sacrificed their offerings !!!

Voila, the rope got cut completely, and my mechanics started the engines and we started our way back to ship, promising that we would move further West on the same channel some other day. 

We continued our trip back to ship slightly early because the night crawls faster in the Eastern Longitudes and I cannot risk my men and material.  So, reached back to ship in time and met my Skipper.  Well, I couldn’t hide anything from him, maybe the old man knew everything that was bound to happen and he concluded his debrief in his usual manner “Kuch toh seekh liya na?” (Atleast, you learned something, right ?)…I nodded my head in agreement, greeted him once again and went back to my cabin. 

Later at night while I was alongside the data processing team my boat crew came to meet me, just to see the area where we operated…..once again, with the eyes of wonder, and a new outlook about our job, about the topography of the location …..with a smile on their face!!

What else should I be asking for other than my crew’s illuminated minds and mine!

(NB:  The Middle Strait still exists as one distinctive geographical location which connects the Andaman Sea to the Bay of Bengal.  However, conscious decision awaits for it to be used for navigation.  The Western side opens up to Port Anson and that Survey was also attempted in the future by my ship under the same Skipper, whereas completing the entry and exit points of that location in its totallity.)

Seafarer's Log: Oral-kaicha, Part 1

 

     

“The evidence of something crucial for knowledge appears in the most unceremonious manner in front of you, almost every time.  You see it, yet you never observe it completely!  And one fine day the same thing re-appears and you call it an epiphany.  In reality, it was there, time immemorial, yet you chose to look the otherway!” 

The last time I narrated the story which I am gonna ponder here had to be left unfinished……as the listener diverted the subject to another level where the story shifted to fantasy including a particular Khal Drogo and Khaleesi (Game of Thrones, obviously) and settling their scores etc !.  Anyways, I had actually written something closer to this in one of my previous blog titled “The Last prisoner” and may be read for a little continuity….a decade old continuity!.  Nevertheless, this time it is gonna be a bit more technical in detail…..basically requiring an elevated neuron activity or in other words, just kidding!

     In September 2012, I was handling my independent project as a Hydrographer and headed to Andaman Islands for the Hydrographic Survey off Middle Strait, survey titled as “Oral-kaicha Island Part I and II”.  After all the necessary planning and kitting we set sail to Andaman Islands from Visakhapatnam.  My ship entered Port Blair Harbour for getting a few final administrative approvals as the area of the survey encompassed a reserved forest area hence requiring the clearances from the Department of Forest, Andaman Police and the Andaman-Lakshadweep Harbour Works (ALHW).  As all the correspondences which required to be communicated were forwarded on an earlier date, the approvals were acquired in time.  The ship left Port Blair harbour and headed to North.  Around 45 Nautical Miles North of Port Blair lies the survey area.

   The Andaman and Nicobar Islands is a preserved area with lush green forests, pristine beaches, with very less human interference (Yes, you can still see plastic in these areas too) absolutely enjoyed by the native aborigines of the islands in most of reserved forest areas.  There are isolated settlements in between, predominantly owned by the second/ third generations of those convicted ones from the notorious cellular jail of Port Blair.

    If one has to travel to the Northern Andamans for visiting Mayabander, Diglipur, Rangat Bay, Mud Volcano, Lime Stone Caves, Tarlait Bay etc. one has to land at Port Blair which is the Administrative Capital of the Islands.  There are strict regulations regarding the traffic movements off Port Blair towards Northern Andamans.  The vehicles move as a convoy escorted by the Police and Forest officials and it takes nearly 6-7 hours on road to reach the Forest Jetty of the Middle Andaman Island.  Cross the Middle Strait via a ferry to Baratang Jetty, Baratang Island and further North to Mayabander, Rangat Bay, Diglipur etc.

     It is true that the Islands have a darker reputation, till recently within a century, where the worst human sufferings took place in and around the Islands, mainly at the Cellular Jail of Port Blair.  The sufferings did fuel the Independence movement in an unprecedented manner too.  Even though these took place in a single location, predominantly, but was enough to tarnish the unspoken history of the land.  But before that, the Islands were a pit stop for merchant ships which traversed between the mainlands into the South East.  And that’s that…..with all due regards to those known and unknown, lets move ahead!

      As I had mentioned earlier, that this project was my first independent one; and I lacked one crucial factor called experience.  And it did affect my judgements on field however, having a super experienced and unforgiving boss ensured that the right wisdom was poured into me at times through hook n crook!  So, my ship anchored off the eastern entrance of Middle Straits and commenced the basic settings for the survey.  The tide pole, for measurement of tides was decided to be set up deep into the strait at the jetty of Baratang Island since that was the mid location between the eastern and western mouths of the channel.  So, two 9 meter Survey Boats were lowered, carrying the men and material for setting up and started off early morning into the channel.  I breathe a kinda freedom, when I am in water!!!  

      Here I was….on a different role, necessary homeworks done, full of expectations, assuming things, and hoping that everything falls in place….the unknown territory which every hydrographer walked before me have gone through….maintaining one simple code of conduct.    The channel, is named as Godam Juru in local language and rechristened as Amit La Boicha Channel (citation required!) and would give one a feeling of entering unknown waters, similar to those intricate riverines of Amazon!  Well, the feeling of Amazon is purely through those generous documentaries of NGC, Discovery and yes that goddamn Anaconda Movie (with J Lo’s hind quarters which they didn’t focus, and I wondered why).  For a person who has lived mostly in main land, a trip through the internal waters of the islands can be an unforgettable one! 

      And here we are cruising slowly through the channel, absolutely calm waters and one could hear those distant voices of those birds perching somewhere in those tall trees echoing all around us.  The infinite chirping of crickets, their momentary pause indicating the cautiousness to the humming of the boats’ engines……free souls aye ? Maybe its their way of telling one, eerily, that “I see you”!  The banks had thick vegetation of mangroves spread deep then followed by thick vegetation.  Since the channel is connected directly to the seas, the effect of tides is very prominent and the same tides have played a crucial role in maintaining the aquatic life in these parts.  The jungle is thick and the banks are predominantly have light grey coloured mud/ clay, giving an appearance of finely made dough ready for baking.  We spotted some huge crocodiles, Giant Salt Water Crocodiles!!….obviously the original owners of the place!  The rumble made by our motor boats were enough to disturb their routine sun-bath and rushed back into the waters vigorously waving their tails…..million years of evolution and we see those distant relatives of a T-Rex! 

      We crossed the Lime-Stone caves which is one of the tourist attraction.  A small jetty marks the alighting point which is made of wood with a long wooden ramp leading through the mangroves , deep into a small hamlet where the cave is situated.  Yes, I promised my crew that we shall visit soon, but not now!  We crossed a small island in between the channel called “Bell Island”. 

      After around an hour we reached Baratang Jetty.  The jetty is swarmed by tourists but we had to do out work.  The first step was to erect the tide pole on a suitable location without any disturbance of boats and people.  Among my crew I had two qualified divers and they’re expected to be in the water while the tide pole was being rigged on to a strong structure.  Since it was a concrete masonry structure the pillar of the jetty was chosen to be the ideal location.  The locals who gathered around us in curiosity warned us otherwise!  Because the spot is prone to crocodiles!!  They generally don’t venture into the jety area during the ferry operating time, but, hey, why you want to take a risk??? And without the tide pole my survey cannot be fulfilled too.  Meanwhile, the ‘Pradhaan’ or the President of the Village also arrived there and he suggested an idea….to make a temporary cage with bamboo sticks and the divers can work within that enclosure.  The idea sounded good, and I agreed.  He informed some local guys and within half n hour a cart arrived filled with long bamboo sticks.  The entire village gathered around and helped in erecting temporary scaffolding around the designated area.  My divers entered the water and completed the rigging in an hour or so. 

      This was one great lesson for me, which I carried throughout my field-days that, without locals there aint any team or teamwork.  The Pradhaan helped me to accommodate my tide watch-keepers in a nearby cafeteria.  His and the Baratang Villagers’ help continued throughout my three phases of the survey and I shall be indebted forever for taking care of us.  I ensured that little packets of Juice bottles and Chocolates were transferred during our phases from ship to the people of Baratang. 

 

(Contd…)