A big percentage of my audience asked me to write a piece about facing rough weather at sea. This one is for you guys - hope all three of you enjoy it!
Rolling? Pitching? If you aren't familiar with the terms, let me put it very simply. Rolling is when a ship threatens to swing on its side and turn turtle. Except that a microsecond before you think you are about to taste salt water, the ship decides not yet, and reverses back upright.
But ek baar jo commitment kar di...
So she doesn't stop at upright, and threatens to roll over on the other side. And then back. You get the idea. Pitching is pretty much the same thing, except that instead of rolling over on its side, this time the ship decides to do a front flip - back flip routine. A little like sitting on a see-saw.
Sounds like fun, no? Like a roller-coaster ride, where you go "wheee!" every time your stomach lurches? I enjoyed it initially, but then it starts to get annoying when you realize that it is lasting longer than you would like it to; and that you can't just get off the ride. You have to stick it out and function normally. You still have to take a shower (literally chasing the water because the shower head turns away and keeps changing directions). You still have to eat meals that keep running away from you (holding your plate with one hand, bowl of soup with the other, and grabbing a mouthful in that one second when everything is steady).
Which brings me to sea-sickness. No, it is not like home-sickness, where you miss home. Sea-sickness is where you are sick of the sea. Also, this one is not a state of the mind. You really do get physically sick. Remember how you managed to eat those five morsels of food that did not get away from you? Surprise! They haven't given up on freedom just yet! They are plotting an escape, and the biologically challenged idiots have no idea which way to go. Most of the food takes the gravity-defying way out of your body - back out through your mouth. I do not want to disgust you too much, so let's just agree that food only tastes good the first time. By the way, sea-sickness pills do not work; and taste like sand.
A point to remember - a ship is essentially a big hunk of steel - steel sides, steel decks, steel doors, steel roofs steel everything. I love steel. It signifies strength - man of steel, nerves of steel, etc. Trouble with steel? It clangs. Combine that with the kind of weather that makes every loose object fly, and basically you have pandemonium. Dustbins crashing, chairs tipping over, closet door open and half your belongings flipping out doing somersaults. Ganpati Visarjan level pandemonium, where one person is playing Deva Shree Ganesha and the next guy is playing Chikni Chameli.
One time, I could not enter my room because, I kid you not, my refrigerator didn't want me to. Inanimate or not, that thing had a soul. It had uprooted the four screws pinning it down. It had then banged itself berserk on the closet door until it came off its hinges. Next, it had stepped out of the closet and tipped over. I think that is where it offloaded its contents - soft drink cans, a juice box, half a sandwich, a snickers bar, et al. Then it slid across the room (ref. Sketch A, below) on a carpeted floor, mind you, and managed to reach the door. Somehow, it even connived with the dustbins to jam the door shut. Standing outside, struggling to get the door open, it took me a while to realize why I could not get in.
Oh, just so you know, the fridge still worked. The force is strong on this one...
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| Coming Soon: Rain |
The Bay of Biscay - the playground where our boys Varun, Poseidon, Neptune and Njord meet to play splash.
Every jahaji worth his salt (so not the NCV guys, obviously 😜) dreads a passage through the Bay, and for good reason. Of course, given my beautiful run with lady luck, I was destined to cross it on my very first voyage. All I knew then is that yes, ships roll and pitch a little, but tough sailors do not let it affect them.
Rolling? Pitching? If you aren't familiar with the terms, let me put it very simply. Rolling is when a ship threatens to swing on its side and turn turtle. Except that a microsecond before you think you are about to taste salt water, the ship decides not yet, and reverses back upright.
But ek baar jo commitment kar di...
So she doesn't stop at upright, and threatens to roll over on the other side. And then back. You get the idea. Pitching is pretty much the same thing, except that instead of rolling over on its side, this time the ship decides to do a front flip - back flip routine. A little like sitting on a see-saw.
Sounds like fun, no? Like a roller-coaster ride, where you go "wheee!" every time your stomach lurches? I enjoyed it initially, but then it starts to get annoying when you realize that it is lasting longer than you would like it to; and that you can't just get off the ride. You have to stick it out and function normally. You still have to take a shower (literally chasing the water because the shower head turns away and keeps changing directions). You still have to eat meals that keep running away from you (holding your plate with one hand, bowl of soup with the other, and grabbing a mouthful in that one second when everything is steady).
Which brings me to sea-sickness. No, it is not like home-sickness, where you miss home. Sea-sickness is where you are sick of the sea. Also, this one is not a state of the mind. You really do get physically sick. Remember how you managed to eat those five morsels of food that did not get away from you? Surprise! They haven't given up on freedom just yet! They are plotting an escape, and the biologically challenged idiots have no idea which way to go. Most of the food takes the gravity-defying way out of your body - back out through your mouth. I do not want to disgust you too much, so let's just agree that food only tastes good the first time. By the way, sea-sickness pills do not work; and taste like sand.
A point to remember - a ship is essentially a big hunk of steel - steel sides, steel decks, steel doors, steel roofs steel everything. I love steel. It signifies strength - man of steel, nerves of steel, etc. Trouble with steel? It clangs. Combine that with the kind of weather that makes every loose object fly, and basically you have pandemonium. Dustbins crashing, chairs tipping over, closet door open and half your belongings flipping out doing somersaults. Ganpati Visarjan level pandemonium, where one person is playing Deva Shree Ganesha and the next guy is playing Chikni Chameli.
One time, I could not enter my room because, I kid you not, my refrigerator didn't want me to. Inanimate or not, that thing had a soul. It had uprooted the four screws pinning it down. It had then banged itself berserk on the closet door until it came off its hinges. Next, it had stepped out of the closet and tipped over. I think that is where it offloaded its contents - soft drink cans, a juice box, half a sandwich, a snickers bar, et al. Then it slid across the room (ref. Sketch A, below) on a carpeted floor, mind you, and managed to reach the door. Somehow, it even connived with the dustbins to jam the door shut. Standing outside, struggling to get the door open, it took me a while to realize why I could not get in.
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| Sketch A |
For those interested, here is a video of rough weather in the Bay of Biscay. This one is a clip of what happens on the inside. Enjoy!
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