Fatso : The day I got called a Fatso!

Fatso

-----

What's your BMI? asks dad urgently.

Why,I ask.

Son,dad advises me over the telephone,it's time you lost some weight,now that you've become fat!

 

But dad!,you haven't even seen me for the last eight months! How can you possibly know that I'm fat...does my voice sound thick over the telephone? Are my words too heavy? Does it weigh heavily on your mind when you think about me? 

Huh? 

Huh?

Well...I heard people talk...

Dad,Dad...I'm 176 cm tall and weigh 68 kilos.Now You calculate my BMI!

Son, denial is not just a river in egypt...it's natural for the mind to refuse to acknowledge reality,

particularly if it so distasteful as obesity.The first step is to accept that you have a problem.

No,No! I'm not fat...end of discussion.

Ok(sighs)...Just be careful with what you eat and exercise once in a while or so...we're going to have a serious discussion on this when you come back.

Bye (click)

Was it true? Am I in denial?

Had I become a Fatso?

Fatso! FATSO! fatso! FATso! fatSO! fATso! FatSO!

Shooting Stars and Hunting for Aliens

There are two distinct advantages of being a seafarer.

The view and the air.

Most of the air we breathe is clean because there isn't a factory nearby for miles...nor there is traffic,nor any methane farting cows... just miles and miles of open sea and the salty trade winds.

At sea, I never utter the word 'Dust Allergy'

The other is the view.

Seafarers get to watch the most exquisite sunrises and sunsets everyday that is lost to most of you.(yes, you included)

We are always trying to outrace the ever advancing insuperable mirage of a horizon that lies ahead of us.

We get to see clouds that people have only heard about.

We get to see weather phenomenon as it happens-the advancing line of sleet,the raindrops from heaven,the occasional enveloping fog, soft falling snow and the occasional mirage.

We also get to see the stars like no one else can.

At night, out at sea, there is no light pollution.

There is the all surrounding darkness and you, 

and no one and nothing around for miles.

On clear cloudless nights, the heavens are set ablaze by tiny pin pricks of stars, and every night you can see the complex interplay of the celestial sphere and it's inhabitants.

I can identify most zodiac constellations.

Orion and Scorpius are the most beautiful and readily apparent constellations apart from the Big Dipper,but some constellations don't live up to their names...they look nothing like their names suggest- Aries- are ya crazy, you can't even make it out properly with your naked eyes, Taurus looks like a big 'V', Gemini-phooey, what twins?, Cancer-WTF?, 

Leo- looks nothing like a lion...on its best day, it comes close to resembling an Equus Hemionus.

Hee-Haw, Hee-Haw!

There are times, when I stare at the heavens above and cramp my neck that I think about God.

Oh God! I've got a crick in my neck.Looks like I won't be sleeping tonight.

Again!

That's when I remember what the Bosun (or Boatswain) told me one day.

He said that he realised that he was God. (Nice segue, huh?)

God? 

I mean...Isn't that a little bit pretentious? 

I mean,if given a choice,I'd ask for a better model of God.

The Bosun was on the wrong side of fifty,smooth as an egg shell, false teeth and a cranky irritating voice. 

He was me! I was Him! 

This is what I'd be in about thirty years.

But God? Hell No!

I asked him to explain.

He said that while working, the Walkie-Talkie he carried with him got wet and had some complications.

Because of the water ingress, the circuits were all messed up and due to some strange reason, he could hear whatever was transmitted by others, but himself could not reply back.

At that moment, he explains, that he felt like God, who could hear all our prayers but so far would not (could not?) reply back.

In fact That was his theory of Divinity.

God was a Bosun with a faulty one way walkie-talkie!

According to him, God was just some tired old overworked sailor working on a celestial ship sailing in the celestial skies who was in a cranky mood because his walkie-talkie was not working.And he was tired of the people who were calling him continuously, because all he could do was just listen to them and hope that somehow they found their own solutions to their problems.

That's a nice concept Bosun, I said...have you ever read anything about the Flying Spaghetti Monster or the theory of gravity according to FSMism?

Yeah, I'm a closet Pastafarian myself...but so was George Bush, so there's nothing to brag about, but according to Scott Adams, God got bored one day, and self destructed, and the resultant universe that we have now is the remnants and parts of God's Debris, which now is slowly coalescing together to become a single entity- i.e God again.

Pretty Neat Huh?

I also saw a blue fishing boat called 'Heaven' around the east coast of India.If god was a Bosun, then it is quite plausible  that Heaven is a blue fishing boat in the Indian Ocean, don't you think?

A few days ago, our employers sent a stern message to all the ship staff. (Hmm...No segue this time)

It seemed that they were concerned about our health and well being... so effective immediately, they would enforce a No Smoking regulation in their entire fleet.(Apparently their insurance premiums skyrocketed this year after a few back to back smoking related deaths)

Whoo-Hoo!

No more second hand smoke.

Yessss! (commence doing the chicken dance)

And along with it was an advisory that told people to eat more greens,less fried stuff, more grilled meat,less processed food...yada yada yada.

Most  ships have already enforced a 'Zero Alchohol Policy'

Now , no more cigarettes.

I was slightly worried about how the crew would react.

Even prisoners get cigarettes!

I didn't know how people would react when they thought their employers were telling them what to eat,drink,sleep,live- basically trying to run their lives.

Surprisingly most people welcomed the No Smoking Policy.

Most of them only smoked out at sea (at homes their wives would nag them to death if caught) and most of them wanted to or had unsuccessfully tried to quit.

Most agreed that smoking was dangerous.(Most die hard smokers know that Smoking is Dangerous, but it is something they do to relax.)

Most said that now they would be forced to quit, and that they were happy that they could finally quit.

Sitting in the Smoke Room (which will now be renamed Crew Recreation Room) I asked the Bosun...,'So, your holiness, how do you feel about not smoking?'

Out came his usual cranky reply...'Ahhhh!'

 which could mean almost anything in the world.

I usually sit with the Bosun so that he can translate filipino movies to me.He's also teaching me filipino.

Man...So many syllables jammed in a single word! 

Filipino ain't easy...but thanks to my familiarty with spanish, I can see how much spanish language has influenced the filipino languages.

I'm hooked to southeast asian movies.They are so different.

I also think filipinas have the cutest accents.It's hard not to get swayed.I usually listen even though I don't understand a word.(Men have to listen, but don't necessarily have to understand women. Women know that we don't understand them anyway)

I told this to the guys and they were amused.

So far three seamen have told me that I have to marry a filipina.

The first one promised,'You won't be disappointed,I promise'

The second one told, 'Avoid girls from Manila.You're better off with girls from the provinces - batangas...maybe mariveles...'

The third one said that he'd be willing to set me up with some relative of his, and promised that she was one of the most beautiful girls ever.

With a FHM in hand, he showed me Cindy Kurleto's picture, and promised that this girl looked exactly like Ms.Kurleto.

Ah guys, I'm flattered. Thank you for even considering me.It feels great to be accepted.

You don't know what it means when you say that to an outsider.

My only problem is my vegetarianism.

I know people in most asian countries eat a variety of seafood and meat.

I have no qualms about 'marrying' a south east asian (they are so damn cute), but I don't want her to change her food habits just for me.

At the same time, I don't want to change my food habits either.

You see my dilemma?

Mom is having a near apoplexic attack when she thinks of the girls I might marry.

What if you marry a chinese? 

So?

But what if she uses kung fu on me.'

Don't be ridiculous ma.You don't have to know kung fu to be chinese.That's not a requirement.

I bet there are many chinese people who know nothing about kung Fu.

But what about Pork...chicken...snake stew and bat salad? Waaah!

Mom, I'll marry someone who's a vegetarian,ok?

OK. Sniff.

I'll also ask her not to use martial arts on you,ok?

Ok.

So damn hard to keep everyone satisfied.Phew.

And thanks to the Bosun, I've become a Pacquiao fan. It's hard not root for the underdog.Manny Pacquiao's  classic rags-to-riches story or his fighting style or his general success makes him worthy of adulation.

I've been following all his fights...and got really disappointed that the Pacquiao-Mayweather fight got cancelled.I too think this would be the greatest fight of the century.

Speaking of fans, even the huge hulk of a wrestler Batista (who is a Filigreek or a Greekapino) is a fan of Manny.

But people like to see Manny fight, not sing or act like he's doing now, and they definitely don't want him to run for president.They don't want him to be a politician of all the things, because then he'll cease to be a hero.

Ah! What were we talking about? Ok, we talked about the sea,no smoking,Pacman...oh yeah...the view from the ship.

Sometimes I stand outside all night waiting for shooting stars.I usually catch atleast one every night.On good days, I can sight well over a dozen.

That's what we do when we get bored.

As soon as we see a shooting star we make a wish.

I've been playing this game for a long time now.

These days my wishes have become nobler. 

I'm usually wishing for vague non-concrete stuff...World Peace, happiness, to find peace, to do what I love...

or on some occasions the desperate 'Please Don't let me die a virgin...Please Don't let me die a virgin...oh please oh please oh please'

But I'm not too worried.If I die now, I'll always have reincarnation.Reincarnation is not something I look forward to, but in case I die now, I might want to finish some unfinished business...but knowing what I know now, I know that girls wont necessarily be easy in my next life either.I mean, women will be women always.

But a few days ago, one of the A/Bs told me to add a new twist to make my wishes more potent.

He saw this in some movie, but he swears that this works.

The next time you see a shooting star and want to make a wish, put your handsin your pockets first, and then watch as all your wishes come true.

Whoa! Who knew things were as easy as putting your hands in your pockets, huh?

Ok.Here goes nothing.

Put hands in pockets.

Check.

Make a wish.

Please Don't let me die a virgin...Please Don't let me die a virgin...oh please oh please oh please'. 

Check.

Now wait.

Ain't this cool.Thanks to this wish, I'm practically invunerable until I have sex (or make love or whatever you want to call it)

I could be a superhero!

Supermonk!

Supermonk to the rescue!

Up Up and away!

His kryptonite is Lust.

His Lex Luthor is Carmen Electra with her top off.

He is always superunsatisfied and superdesperate!

Supermonk!

The pocket wish technique works.

A few days ago, one of my colleagues wished that he could go home and two days later he is going home! It works! Hallelujah!

Supermonk to the rescue!

(Cue in theme of X-Files)

And then there are things amongst the stars that no one dares to name.

Things that go Zoop! in the night.

(cue in creepy music from theremin) 

Sometimes when watching stars and sighting shooting stars, we've seen strange stuff in the sky.

I'm not going all X-filesy on you , but I've seen UFOs.

They are not commercial aircrafts.Commercial aircrafts should at all times during flight display red and blue sidelights and a flashing white light.

At sea, you can see the white flashing light even when the aircrafts are at cruising altitudes.

But what we've seen is totally different.

They are too high to be aircrafts...and they move too fast.

I've showed to it to several people just so that I could convince myself that I was not delusional.

I'm not .

Others are jusy as perplexed as I am to see these lights in the sky so high, moving at incredible speeds.

They are so high that one needs specialised equipment to document them.

They move fast, but in a straight line horizontally...so they are not meteorites or comets or stuf like that.

I've seen three at once diverging from a common point.

They usually travel in straight lines, but sometimes they seem to go zig-zag.

On clear cloudless nights, if we are bored of catching shooting stars, we go Hunting for aliens.

Somedays you can catch upto three separate sightings of these UFOs.

Our best theory is that they are either low altitude satellites (which are visible to the naked eye when their solar sails reflect sunlight) or top secret aircrafts.

Nah...I don't think they are aliens.Aliens would be much smarter than get seen by a bunch of sailors.

As a sailor you have two distinct advantages.

The Air.

And the view.

You'll never know what you're gonna see.

That's why I keep on playing the games of sighting shooting stars and Hunting for Aliens.

Clipper Sun Pics

This is Ridiculous

We are five miles from Sentosa.

Yet we are in a different country, with a different time zone.

We are in Pulau Sambu, which is officially in Indonesia.

SO now we are keeping GMT +7 .

This is ridiculous.

Time is such an amorphous and bourgeois concept that legal time is anything
that you (or your government) decide.

Indonesians love pulau.

I love pulau, but I like biryani too.

Onward Ho Sailor ! (Woes,Worries and a Vada Pav)

This is yet another "I'm-so-bored-I-don't-know-what-to-do-post".

                          Our flight to singapore was delayed by 5 hours.We cursed everyone and everything seemingly responsible under the stars.Because otherwise we would have reached singapore by 1945 on 13th and had plenty of time to rest and have some fun on the side too.

    Instead , we reached singapore at 0030 on 14th and were put in Furuma Riverfront and asked to be ready by 1000 the same day.Sure ,Sure... We are the 'Can Do' guys.

                       The journey so far has been nothing but draining.Mangalore to Mumbai on 12th...and then Mumbai to Singapore on 13th...And now we'll shortly be joining the vessel in singapore, which is one of the busiest ports in the world...The rest of the crew thinks that we have rested enough.So they'll want us to work our asses off.They don't really know that we've had less than 5 hours of sleep and 25 hours of travelling.

                                                                                       I seem to be making friends at the unlikeliest of the places.In mumbai, a taxi driver shared his woes and worries and a vada pav with me.I thought of all the robbery victims who were drugged and robbed in the same fashion .But He offered me the whole vada pav and then I tore half of it and gave it to him , which he happily ate , dispelling my fear .We also shared a mangola...and he helped me with the luggage for no extra cost ! All this for a sympathetic ear !

     Mumbai , it seems is no more fun to live.It's too crowded, too dirty, too stressful, too polluted...but he too tries his hand at Romancing Mumbai , just like most of us forced to be there.Given a choice , he too would like to return to his native village (Incidentally 10 km away from Amitabh Bacchan's ancestral village)He too finds the recent trend of victimisation of Non-Marathi Manoos by local political parties very alarming and distressing.

That got me thinking.Should I ever return to mumbai ?

But right now that's not even remotely important.There's a guy waiting on 'Clipper Sun ' , a brand new LPG carrier (yard delivery :Jan 2008) who wants to go home badly because he hasn't seen them for nearly six months and misses them badly.

I miss my friends and family already.This is the curse that comes along with being a sailor.Mama told me not to get too attached to anything ashore.Its hard though.

But this is what pioneers shouted out in the face of adversity ...

Onward Ho Sailor !

That's just what I'm going to do.

 

The Obligatory Goodbye Post

Hi guys

This is the obligatory Goodbye post.

I'll be joining tomorrow in singapore.

This time , I'm sure I'll not be able to post or read your stuff or generally interact with you for almost six month.(I can see a few of you are letting go a sigh of relief )

You know what my biggest fear is ?

It's that I'll be forgotten when I come back.

It happens.I'm guilty of forgetting too.But I don't want to be forgotten.

So do keep in touch...

I'll ask KCG to post my ship's email Id...

I'd be happy to read your stuff on board too.

Goodbye.

Vikas

Waiting

                       (NOT !)

Its been a running gag for almost a month now...I've told all my friends that I'll be leaving soon... sailing soon.
We've exchanged goodbyes and forget-me-nots and we-will-meets-agains and so on and so forth...

But I'm still here.

Waiting...waiting to be called.

My documents are with my office.I'm half packed and mentally fully prepared.

I'm waiting.

They have changed three ships so far...Lavender Passage, Oriental Queen, and now I'm supposed to go to Mill Reef.Formalities and paper work will take a few hours.Mandatory medical testing will take half a day.

But I'm still waiting.

I feel the same as I felt the first two weeks after signing off and coming ashore.

Un moored.

Afloat without direction and purpose.

An idle mind is the devil's workshop , they say. (Don't ask me who!)

I feel the same...I shy away from human contact, don't make calls, don't interact

too much with people...It's begun again...

I want to go .I hate living in uncertainty .I hate living in a suitcase.
What I hate the most is the waiting.

I'm not able to make any long term plans.I don't know when I'm leaving.

I'm sorry I couldn't , but I wanted to spend some more time with you.

You are a very interesting person.

Yes, this is how I communicate...

I don't know if this a goodbye now or another extension of the current running gag.

Goodbye !

A Free Man and the Deep Sea

L'Homme et la mer

Homme libre, toujours tu chériras la mer!
La mer est ton miroir; tu contemples ton âme
Dans le déroulement infini de sa lame,
Et ton esprit n'est pas un gouffre moins amer.

Tu te plais à plonger au sein de ton image;
Tu l'embrasses des yeux et des bras, et ton coeur
Se distrait quelquefois de sa propre rumeur
Au bruit de cette plainte indomptable et sauvage.

Vous êtes tous les deux ténébreux et discrets:
Homme, nul n'a sondé le fond de tes abîmes;
Ô mer, nul ne connaît tes richesses intimes,
Tant vous êtes jaloux de garder vos secrets!

Et cependant voilà des siècles innombrables
Que vous vous combattez sans pitié ni remords,
Tellement vous aimez le carnage et la mort,
Ô lutteurs éternels, ô frères implacables!

— Charles Baudelaire

 

Somehow He has captured what I love about the sea...

O free man, you will always love the sea,
for the sea is your mirror,
you contemplate your soul in its surges
as it endlessly unrolls

You like to plunge into the bosom of your image;
You embrace it with eyes and arms, and your heart
Is distracted at times from its own clamoring
By the sound of this plaint, wild and untamable.

Both of you are gloomy and reticent:
Man, no one has sounded the depths of your being;
O Sea, no person knows your most hidden riches,
So zealously do you keep your secrets!

Yet for countless ages you have fought each other
Without pity, without remorse,
So fiercely do you love carnage and death,
O eternal fighters, implacable brothers!

I weel dreenk your blaad !

How does one walk against gale force winds at sea ?
Watch and learn.
First , you grit your teeth.(like this)
Then you clench your jaw(like this)
Now muster up the most manly expression on your salt chapped leathery mug ,replete with a masculine grimace of masochistc pleasurepain (like this)
Now you are ready .
The rest is really simple.
Pray to whoever you want to protect you from the gusts of wind that knock you off your feet.Pray that you are not swept crashing  overboard by a giant wave , never to be found again.
Pray once more and hold on to something solid with a rigor mortis grip , and never let go.
And then trudge ahead grudgingly , pushing and fighting against an invisible barrier made out of intangible air, swearing uselessly at the winds for howling past you like screaming banshees out of hell .
It's that easy.
Trust me.
I know.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
WEAK MORTAL FOOL !

HOW DARE YOU EMPTY YOUR INNARDS IN MY PRESENCE ?

Ah ! the perverse pleasure of seeing someone heave and retch and puke his guts out and then gasp for air.

THY WEAKNESS DISGUSTS ME !

I WEEL DREENK YOUR BLAAD ! BWAHAHAHA !

Ah ! the immense feeling of relative superiority you feel at that instant...

Every ship has six degrees of freedom when freely afloat at sea.
They are :- Rolling, pitching , surging, swaying,yawing, heaving.Let us collectively call them rollingpitching for the sake of ease.

A ship undergoes all these six types of motions  when out at sea, in varying degrees of severity depending on the wind , waves and swell.

When the weather goes bad at sea two things happen.
1)The ship rolls and pitches in a degree that is directly proportional to    the inclemency of the weather.
2)People get seasick.

                                              It takes a lot to get a seafarer sick.
Your everyday garden variety rollingpitching will not get him seasick .He is used to that sort of thing.Take the inclemency a notch or two up (Visualise "The Perfect Storm") and then see the fun.

("Sick as a seasick seafarer ,sick as a seasick seafarer".... say that ten times very quickly )

                                     A family of lows(low pressure areas) loom north of us nearly 300 miles away.The resultant effect is huge 20 foot waves and swells relentlessly tossing the ship like a weightless ragdoll.
My colleague, the seasick seafarer, the poor fella , has to keep his navigational watch on bridge for four hours , and the ship is rollingpitching helplessly at the mercy of neptune's fury.
"Vikas , dont talk to me , dont even look at me " he says , looking miserably spent , awfully wasted
"Vikas, dont even look out, I can't ...OOooorrghhh...AAaaaarrgghhh....hwaaaack gaaack"(Thats the best I could capture the sound of retching)
And then he covered his mouth with both his hands and ran towards the nearest toilet to empty out his stomach juices and half digested food .
Poor guy .
I felt pity & revulsion at the same time.

Me ? I thought ...I'm different.
I belong to the sea as she belongs to me.

Forever , made for each other.

I 've been out at sea since I was an infant(I embarked on my maiden voyage was when I was 3 months old , I'm told, where I was yanked onboard by my hair by the boatswain, when  he nearly lost his grip on me as the ship had unexpectedly rolled at anchor).

       The proof of my seaworthiness in my salty bones and rusty blood  & sea chapped leathery skin (Which I moisturize daily ).
                            In fact , my parents like to remind me every once in a while (much to my embarrassment) that I was conceived out at sea , somewhere near Romania.( No wonder I aIways feel like saying I weeel Dreeenk Your Blaaad ! Bwahahaha !)

                                         Romania ... Dad winks at me repeatedly when he tells his version of the story.The wintery chilly romance (wink , wink), the lonely lonely locales(wink, wink)..., the splendidness of sensual isolation (wink, wink, wink)...  
 DAD ! Stop winking ...I GET IT, I GET IT !
You and mom , mom and you , I GET IT !  
(God ,  don't make me visualize it and be traumatized for the rest of my life)
                     Mom has her own version.She goes into nostalgia mode. Mom's eyes go misty and glaze over.They go blind to the present and open the windows to the past.
                          Memories of the first sight of snow, memories of walking on slippery ice , wearing long johns and layers of sweaters, silly snow boots,slipping and falling hard and laughingcrying at the same time, memories of her first snow fight, the taste of snow...the rambunctiousness and the  warm hospitality of the rosy cheeked romanians,how they liked her bindi, and how they all sang their favourite raj kapoor hindi song...

             Although these shoes are japani...
              this pantaloon englishstani...
             this red hat that is roosi...
             My heart remains hindoostani...
             Phir bhi dil hai hindoostani...
             Phir bhi dil hai hindoostani.

Some memories are meant to be forever.

Perhaps it was their stories that  laid the foundation for my untethered life , my quest to find solace in neptune's abode.
I can only surmise...
             
The proof is in the pudding.
Here's some pudding.
 When the weather goes bad , two things hapen to me
1) If the ship rolls I get sleepy.(possibly due to natal memories of the soothing rocking and rolling)
2)If the ship pitches I get ravenously hungry.(I don't know why).I eat a lot. A  LOT !
Its physics actually.
The free surface effect of an empty tank  is large and potentially destructive.When you fill up the tank with ballast or cargo , the free surface effect becomes nil.
So this is what I do. I fill up my tank of a stomach to its bursting limit when the ship begins its danse macabre of rollingpitching and then watch the sea in her various moods .

                                                           So today , when the ship was rollingpitching , like a big bucking bronco out of control , I just made sure that I had a heavy meal (today we had chinese noodles and biryani) so that I can enjoy the ride for the next four hours.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I up and realized the malleable nature of dreams...the subtle ways in which they are altered by external factors.
The ship was rollingpitching violently , shudderring and groaning and fluttering in the most  unhuman ways, and there I was asleep and dreaming  and knowing that I was dreaming (it's called lucid dreaming dumbo !)
As the ship pitched violently , In my dream our ship had capsized (Much like in the movie posiedon) and I noted sadly that I did not panic.My first reaction as the ship capsized was to grab a lifejacket and head for high ground , in a totally calm and detached manner.
What was weird was , I always thought I'd panic in such situations, maybe even shit in my pants.I don't.I'm surprised .I'm impressed.

I guess I don't really know myself as well as I think I do.
But then , who really does ?

Trust No One

Dear Sir,
             I recently came to know that you don't trust us.
Regardless of your trust , I will discharge my duties and carry out my responsibilities to the fullest extent of my abilities and truthfully abide by all laws that apply to me.
Sir , regarding yourself , I must be brutally honest while I give you some feedback.
                       Your reputation precedes you.Past associations routinely perform your character assasinations using only superlatives.Your lineage , ancestry and parentage are regularly attributed to lower order animals , which I think is insulting to those animals.Your relationships with your family are frequently described to be incestous , vulgar and pederastous.
                                    Plainly speaking , none of my colleagues , or yours , would want to be associated with a man of your stature and history.They would rather
1)Gouge their eyes ( 51 % of the polled chose this option)
2)Scald themselves with molten lava(43 %)
3)Simply spit on you (The rest)

                 Regarding trust, it is an open secret that you routinely and surreptiously record our conversations.It seems that either you trust no one or that you get voyeuristic pleasure out of our mundane conversation.We know of you pathetic attempts of espionage/subterfuge and we humour you.
                  Sir, in my opinion and of others, you are truly an immoral , despicable man with no shred of scruples about you.You are a control freak who has himself  gone out of control.
But, despite you , We as your subordinates , will discharge our duties faithfully and to the best of our abilities.
 And that's a promise we make to ourselves.We salute to integrity and honour.(our's, that is)
                                                             Your Faithfully (I jest here)
                                                              

Male Bonding:Yellow Monkey

Fact :Yellow Monkey exists in reality .It is a small bar situated in Yosu , South Korea.Try Googling it sometime.
          No yellow monkeys were harmed during the making of this post.

Fact: The Author does not smoke.Hates it amongst other things.

Fact:The Author is a self confessed compulsive liar.This is true, If you choose to believe it.

Fact:All the above are true ,
          depending on what reality you choose to accept.
           It's your drug of choice.
          The blue pill or the red pill.
           It's your drug of choice, your choice of reality.

So here we go again ...

The thing I most hate about alcohol is the company I have to endure.

Give a drunk a sympathetic ear and he'll tear it off and keep it for himself , my uncle used to say.

No , not really . My uncle said something in the lines of ' give a drunk a sympathetic ear and he'll bore you to tears'.

My uncle wasn't much of a writer, or a thinker .
Not much of anything really.
He died recently.
I hate him for what he did to his family.

As I was saying 'give a drunk a sympathetic ear and he'll tear it off and keep it for himself'.

(I may not be much of a writer or a thinker or much of anything , but  I wont be dying of liver cirrhosis and abandoning my family,at least).

Open the inebriated pandora's box at your own risk.
The outpour results in a ridiculous deluge.
Accomplishments-real and imagined , regrets-for things done and not done , usually not done , rage against slights and offences when there were none, empty boasts stacked upon a pack of lies- all come out of the previously constipated , now alcohol laxated sphincter of the mind .

But this is where real male bonding takes place.
But this is where macho men break down and weep , hug each other and exchange' I love you man' s with each other and mean it .
As the old joke goes , drinking makes you talk more , weep , feel bloated , drive badly, argue pointlessly etc....
i.e it makes you a woman.

So why do men enjoy such routine emasculation ?

I don't know.But I hate the entire experience.

What I hate about alcohol is the loss of control: physical and mental.I hate not being in control of myself and being  under someone else's influence.

So I do what I best know.
I fight .
I fight really hard to regain control over my motor system , my senses and my impulses - effectively ruining the intended effect of intoxication.

So there we are , me and him , in the Yellow Monkey.
That's the name of the lounge bar .It was the strange name that  made us venture into this place.It is slightly upmarket.(No yellow monkeys to be found anywhere.)The clientele are wearing buisiness suits and stylish blazers and everyone looks like he or she has had a facial , manicure and pedicure recently.
We on the other hand are wearing our standard jeans & T-shirt combos, are un-shaven , un-combed , possibly smelling bad: like the bourgeois  crap we are.
                                         We are the only foriegners there , the odd couple - a self professed teetotaler and a self confessed alcohol abuser ,  seated on a comfy lounging sofa overlooking the busy streets , busy smoking and drinking ~ imbibing one poison after the other and spitting out pure venom tinged with bittersweet nostalgia.
The world has betrayed , hurt and deceived us many times and therefore we imbibe large amounts of noxious fermented liquids that make us giddy .
This is how we get back at the unjust and uncaring world.
Up yours Universe ! Yeah !

Its cold.
               My hands are so cold and numb that I wince and fumble every time I urinate.

I notice I've got goosebumps all over.Dotted for pleasure ;)

My life is a transient one , in a constant state of flux.A few days ago it was so hot , humid and sticky that you had peel your dick off your balls(if you had one) before taking a leak.But here it is so cold that it has been many days since my last hard-on and then there's that famous shrinkage...No one will believe what a whopper I've got thanks to shrinkage !

George Costanza was right .
You never want to get caught with your pants down when you've got shrinkage.

                                               Yet we see brave (vain ? fashion conscious?) young women in impossibly short skirts and almost nothing else (with that I mean 'No stockings').Here we are wearing three layers of winter wear and still shivering miserably and there they are : unflinching and unusually comfortable.

The drunk mind is the devil's workshop  .Also an idle mind ,the crazy mind, the overly ambitious mind and so on.
It seems that the devils sets up her workshop everywhere possible.
(What ? You think the devil is a man ?Think Again. God on the other hand is a man.If he were a woman , all the men in the world would have been destroyed long long ago , leaving only asexually reproducing women ,  using mitosis and meiosis to proliferate)

I have to remind you ,my friend and I are LUI.( Lounging Under Influence).
(I'm also WUI, i.e Writing ...)
It is certainly not a crime , but sometimes the devils workshop in the intoxicated mind creates strange concoctions of weird hormones and chemicals that tend to give to imbiber what they call ' liquid courage'.
My friend is almost out of control and I am fighting to gain some of it.
He's staring at her  bare thighs while shivering.
She is wearing an impossibly high skirt , has an anime doll face that looks deadly cute.She's sitting in a corner drinking what I believe to be Steaming Hot Cocoa and minding her own business .
My friends eyes were following her all the way from outside .She is not even wearing a coat , he remarks .
An evil grin creeps slowly across his face .(No doubt , he's under the influence of the devil).He whispers to methat he has some questions for her and that he will go to her and feel her thighs and find out if those yummy thighs are generating any unusual amount of heat which enables her to be comfortably warm in such cold climes.

I'm afraid he'll actually do it.
And get beaten .
Korea's national sport is Tae-Kwon-Do.
The last thing he'd want is to molest a tae-kwon-do expert and get knocked out by a roundhouse kick to his alcohol soaked head...
But lucky for him,he wont feel a thing for he's comfortably numb.(and dumb ?)

But he'll get me beaten up too , I'm afraid.
I'm not that numb that I wont feel a thing.
And I don't want to be beaten up nothing.
I didn't eve tease nobody.
Atleast let me feel her warm thighs if you are going to beat me up.(She does have a great pair of legs , worthy of showing off in whatever weather she feels like showing it off) (Atleast Give me something if your'e going to beat me up !)

So I'd rather run away and live another day.Die a hero , or live as a coward...many men have come across this rubicon that decided their self worth , character , their future , their everything...

A 100 watt bulb flashes on top of my head. TING !
That's not the sound of the bulb.That's actually a toaster I'm using to make my toast .It's smeared with peanut butter and jelly fish.mmmmmm.....yummy.

As the bulb flashed , I knew what I had to do to avert a potential disaster.

"Quick ! Yellow Monkey ! " I said pointing nowhere in particular.
Alcohol is a depressant.It took him some time to follow what I said.
He slowly turned his head towards where I pointed .
"Huh ! Wh-What , where...?!" he said.
"You gotta be quick man .You just missed it."
"Huh , You shitting me man ?, I'm nosh thasshh drunk "
"Yeah sure ...Whoa , look at that !, There it is ! " I pointed elsewhere...
He turned slowly"Wh-where...?!?!"

While his eyes were off her , I had to do something to avert the crisis.

I knew I'd hate myself for what I was going to do next,but it was for everyone's best.I'm sure she'd forgive me if she knew the circumstances.I'm sure she knows I'm a decent man acting under unusual & dire circumstances .
I'm sure she'll like for who I really am.(Tell me , who's more drunk , me or my friend ?)

 l positioned myself in her line of sight and locked my eyes onto hers.(It was the devil making me do it, I swear).

I made a clucking sound , grabbing her attention.

She saw me see her .

I had to act fast.
I clucked again , making sure I got her full attention.
I gave her an exaggerated wink , and mouthed silently " YOU AND ME GIRL ,YOU AND ME " and made  silly pouty smooching faces at her as I  took a huge swig of beer and grinned lasciviously.

Please God (Devil?) , let this work ...Let this work...

Sure enough , she got up , her face filled with disgust ,  left in a huff.

Whew !

"Hey, hey She's leaving , she's leaving ..." My friend said ,"I had sho-o-o-o many quessshuns" he slurred.
"I'm sure you did .Hey ! Want another beer ? Its on me !"

"Hey , where's the yellow monkey ?" he asked , still remembering.
"I think it was the Yellow monkey which made her leave " I said  trying hard not to smile.

Shoreleave

"Hey dude ! You must go out tonight...at any cost."
"Really, you must...The fish are sure biting today" I said before relieving my collegue off his watch.
"What do you mean ?" he asked .
"I mean , " I said , "Today the fish are biting (wink wink).
The bait seems to be in great form.
The chum bucket's attracting a lot of maneaters today, if you know what I mean " (wink wink.)

Unfortunately my collegue wasn't in any mood for fishy euphemisms.He just wanted to sleep after a long day's work.

"Rest ?
My friend ...plenty rest at sea my friend...
you go out my friend , no go out- no good ah friend..." I began irritating him with my faux-pig english.

"Then explain ....I dont get these fish and chum bucket metaphors of yours"

"Er. it's an euphemism , but anyways, as I was saying , the fish are really biting today..."

"Oh! shut up with your fish and bait and stinking english lessons and tell me what bloody happened ..." said my colleague , clearly exasperated, but I was floating , light as a helium balloon , to notice any of it.

"Ok , Ok ...enough with the fish....let me get straight to the beef...
hey aren't you a vegetarian ?
Sorry  my bad...Sheesh, aren't you being a grouch!"

"You gotta believe me"
I said  "Today the girls out there were all over me .One of the girls even shouted that I was very handsome...and you know what I did? I said thank you , and she ran away in emabarrassment and then I ...."

"Ahem ! Pardon me for being incredulous, but aren't you carrying things too far ?" my weary colleague asked me...

"No , You gotta believe me" I began protesting "I've got proof" I tried to shout before he left , already out of earshot.

Miffed , I thought...Why not write about it.
After all these suckers buy anything from flying saucers to talking chimps...

 Bontang.
I had come to this city  nearly after 2 years.
Progress had made some changes in Bontang.

As in any small town , progress is measured by the number of malls you have.

Bontang had  a new mall.

Ramayana.

It was a ridiculous name for a mall.

Ask any Indian about Ramayana and he will tell you that it is an epic saga , the adi-kavya written by maharshi Valmiki, a verse made of a hundred thousand lines telling you the story of King Rama, his wife Sita who was kidnapped by Ravana, the king of Lanka (present day Sri Lanka) , in a way Shakespeare never could.

If only we could appreciate sanskrit.

But that made no difference to Bontangians.(Is it ok if I call you Bontangians , Bontangians ?)

They were all gushing about how Ramayana , the indonesian chain of hypermarkets,had taken so long to arrive , making all their waiting so satisfactory .
(Newsflash :As you read this , we have reports that Bontang Plaza , Bontang'sonly other mall had a mysterious fire that burned it down yesterday...rumors are that it was all a sinister plan to eliminate competition !)

Except the addition of Ramayana, Bontang as a city largely remained unchanged.
It was still a beautiful little idyllic town by the sea, covered by palm trees and lush coastal greenery, long winding roads ,quaint nostalgic huts and houses,  scenic locales et al.
All of it remained pretty much the same.

Then I realized the most obvious change.It was the women.
Suddenly women started looking more beautiful.Much more than two years ago.

To get to  Bontang , we usually rent a bike , along with the driver .For about 10 $ we get  a driver  who has reasonable command over english  and he will take us out into the city and take us back to the jetty .Safely.

It was the same city I had come to love after frequent trysts.

But I had a mission to accomplish that day.I had to buy some new T-shirts after my old ones got accidentally bleached with the wrong kind of detergent.(its a really long and boring story , so let me not go off tangent now)

On the way we to the city , we stopped briefly at a small store nearby.On the other side there was a house with an open window.There she was.The most beautiful girl I had seen in a long long time.

And she was staring at me.

I could feel the heat of her eyes boring holes in the back of my skull.

I ran through my mental checklist specially created when people stare at me.
(Happens more often than you think)

1) Zipper zipped .Check
2)Toilet paper  not stuck to shoes.Check.
3)No weird shit on my clothes.Check
4)Not wearing my  clothes the wrong way.Check.
5)Finally .Zipper zipped.Check.

Yup.I was ok.Nothing weird about me at all.

So I tried to return her gaze, but there was an intensity in her eyes that I simply couldn't match.
I couldn't look back at her. It was too intense , like the glaring sun , that I could only look at her for a few seconds before looking away.

I have to confess.I have a lot of catching up to do with my balls.I simply could not stare her down that day.

Shaken and soul stirred , I left for the city.

I asked my driver to take me to Ramayana, the mall everyone was ga-ga over.

It was in Ramayana where truth began to get stranger than fiction.

Ever seen how a crowd reacts to a celebrity ?
Me neither...

But as soon as I enetered , the security guards bowed .That never happened before.
Never happened two years ago either.
And the girls...some of them stopped dead on their tracks...started staring and then moved away...some of them smiled, coyly and walked away...weird stuff that didn't make sense.
          Then going against the grain , I tried to chat up with the girls...
bad mistake...
At one time , there were 6-10 girls around me , none that spoke english , trying to talk to me ,trying to  translate , and giggling raucously...and soon men started coming in to see what the fuss was all about and then had  a look at me and would simply walk off shaking their heads.

It was weird when I tried out some T-shirts.Some one would occasionally try to peek in.And once out wearing the T-shirt, they would say how good I looked in the T-shirt.
What a load of crap.I didn't like most of the T-shirts there.

However the weirdest thing to happen was when a cute compere (with above average command over english) started calling us.
"You sir ...
Yes Sir , You ...what song would you like , and who do you want to dedicate it to  ?"

"Er...1973, James Blunt ...to myself..."

"So sir ,  don't you have a girlfriend  you want to dedicate it to ?"

"Ok ,in that case,  You're Beautiful , James Blunt ....and I dedicate it to you " I said with my best cocky bastard smile.

Oh man , what a power trip it is to make a woman blush !

Of course , she turned off her mike , inched closer and started asking me questions.

Yes.I was a foreigner.
Yes.I was an Indian.Like sharukh khan.
No.I didn't know Sharuck khan personally.I wasn't related to him either.
No .I didn't think she looked like Rani Mukerjee.
No.She looked more like Rasnavati.* ( * name changed to protect identity )

(that was her name and as soon as I uttered this,  the rest of the gang of girls started going ape-shit about how I knew her name.It wasn't apparent to them that I was literate enough  to read her name tag which was in english)

And Thank you for letting me know that you are free after Ten PM.
No , I'd have to be  back onboard by six.   
Bummer !

So before I left , I asked her an opinion about the T-shirt I was about to buy.
She said she didn't like it.I liked it though.
So I bought it anyway and left Ramayana feeling giddy.

I rationalized that all that attention was because she was a store employee(after all) and I was a customer she was trying make comfortable.
But then , when I went to another store I got the same results.Even the store owner for some reason bowed after I had just bought a only a  cheap T-shirt.
Must've been a slow day, Huh !

I contemplated these events for a long time.
Then I stumbled on to something that helped me understand what had happened.

Here are its contents.
'
I know three guys who all of a sudden went from unpopular nerds to superpopular he-men studs with adoring women
following their every footstep in a matter of months. Here is what happened to them:

Example 1:
Wilson was a skinny bespectacled computer programming student. He was a loner, and in his entire life
he had never had a girlfriend. He went to Phoenix, Arizona to do a co-op for Tetrasoft, a wealthy software corporation--
not knowing that at Tetrasoft, one in five employees is a millionaire due to company stock options. Suddenly Wilson
found himself surrounded by starry-eyed Phoenix girls, flirting with him and offering themselves to him at every
opportunity. They took him to nightclubs. They invited him to parties. He was never without a date, or a night's sleeping
partner.
Despite the beauty of some of the women, Wilson eventually became dissatisfied with the women because all of
the female prospects seemed to “lack substance.” He began to believe that all of them were only interested in his money.
Wilson returned to college in California after the co-op and continued his nerdish life. He described the co-op in
Phoenix as like being treated like a king for six months. He said, “They're in love. A girl in Phoenix is just like any other girl falling in love. Why did they fall in love with me? I just happened to be a popular stereotype.”

Example 2:
Michael was an unpopular underweight Caucasian from New Zealand who described himself as looking like a
chicken embryo with an Adam's apple and glasses. He visited Japan, not knowing that in some places in Japan, everyone with blond hair and blue eyes is a fantasy object for women with romantic fantasies about Westerners. At Otaru college in Hokkaido, Japanese women went crazy for Michael, and he slept with many Japanese women for about a year until he contracted a venereal disease, and his days as a stud abruptly ended.

Example 3:
Geoffrey was a middle aged goofy guy with low self esteem who joined the Navy as an electrician, He was not a
classy person, and he couldn't tell the difference between a high priced steak, and a local greaseburger. Nor was he
athletic-- he was overweight and perspired continuously. But he visited the Philippines, where American dollars have 40
times the buying power of Philippine currency. Like Wilson and Michael, Geoffrey became a kind of overnight celebrity;
he became a popular fantasy object for love-starved Filipino women. Being in the Philippines really boosted
Geoffrey’s self esteem. But when Geoffrey returned to his home country he was just an ordinary guy again, and had no
luck with women.

The common theme to all three stories is that they were ordinary unpopular guys. They each did nothing to
enhance themselves, but in spite of this they were surrounded by adoring women. Girls fell in love with them because
Wilson, Michael, and Geoffrey accidentally stumbled into situations where they fulfilled a glamorous popular
stereotype. '

I could've been any of the stereotype, I rationalized.So I decided on not posting this originally.

I hate being a stereotype.I also hate being branded a liar ,so I decided not to post anything about it until I knew for sure what had happened and I would post only if I could repeat the results .

A  week later , we went out in Yosu, Korea.Yosu was freezing now.My friend and colleague wanted to buy some hair dye(he is greying at the tender age of 20) .As we were roaming aimlessly searching for a english speaking salon , we spotted a group of girls staring at us.
I gave my usual 'cocky bastard ' smile and my colleague waved.
Something weird happened.
They started screaming in a way I'd seen girls scream when they see their favourite celebrities.
We were dumbstruck.
"That's never happened to me before ! " said my bewildered colleague.
"yeah , me neither " I said rolling my eyes.

And something more crazy happened.
The girls began following us.
"Fuck , I think we're being followed"
"Yeah , lets just play it cool and walk along..."
"No , lets stop and chat them up ..."
And then we turned around and began chasing them.
Ha Ha , the hunter became the hunted ...

Seeing us chasing , the girls ducked into a nearby building.It was a gaming parlour.We went in the gaming parlour with all guns blazing...only to find it overcrowded and the girls hopelessly lost in the sea of semi-sopoforic gamers.
Tired by all the excitement  and badly timebound, we just came out and continued our aimless journey.

But At the end of it all ,It felt good.
Really good.

What was great was I had a repeat result in a completely different situation with different variables and value systems, and It felt really good.

I realized that seduction is a game of logistics.Location, time, social value, attraction all have to add upfor an opportunity to present itself.
Even with one element missing , it all gives way , like a pack of cards.We realised that after we lost the girls in the gaming parlour and had no time to search for them.

Severely constrained by time , we stopped horsing around and came to do what we originaly intended to do.But finally  we ended up visiting an ancient buddhist monastery instead of getting his hair dye.So much for logistics.
We both were high that day.He was constantly telling me how this had never happened before and how good it felt...

"Man ," I said to him"I love Shoreleave.Lets do it again next time....only it'll be better than before. I promise "

And all he could say was "This has never happened to me before"
"Me neither...me neither" was all I could say.

Chasing Ghosts

It happened before I knew it .Five minutes in the chart room and out I see a flashing light right ahead at a distance of about half a mile.Pitch black night and a poorly radar reflective wooden hull had rendered the fishing boat invisible-until now.

It happened before I knew it...It felt like the fishing boat had materialized out of nowhere.And I began chasing ghosts.
Chasing ghosts is what we seafarers do best apart from not throwing up when the vessel is rolling and pitching violently.

Keep a proper lookout at all times , states Rule 5 of COLREGS , our Rules of the Road.

This I quote from memory
"Every vessel shall at all times keep a proper lookout by sight and hearing as well as by all available means appropriate in the prevailing circumstances and conditions so as to make a full appraisal of the situation and of the situation and of the risk of collision"

And so we are constantly on the lookout for things that are not there , because they just might be .

Keep a good lookout at sea ,my friend.Neptune's domain is moody .She hides ghosts where you least expect them.Keep looking- there might be unlit fishing boats , keep searching-phantom vessels might be adrift , keep looking ...unlit buoys are a hazard, keep looking , keep searching...there are ships with bored duty officers who want to play a dangerous game of 'chicken'...
Keep looking , keep searching , keep hunting , keep chasing -it is your duty to be alert , it is your duty to be vigilant , it is your duty to be paranoid.Keep hunting for ghosts my friend .They're not there-but they just might be.

While staring at the radar monitor sometimes one zones out.

What was that ?...

Is there something out there ?...

Fluorescent green echoes paint and glow on the screen only to fade away , dissolve into nothingness.Listen to the winds howl...there are no sirens serenading out at sea...they are wailing at their loneliness.Listen again...cup your ears, come closer...the VHF radio crackles and hisses periodically , speaking in an unintelligible tongue.On some dark stormy nights , the hisses and crackles of static begin to make sense...a message from the great beyond...Be afraid ...the ghosts have you.Beware .Do not trust the machines either.There are ghosts in the machine just as there are ghosts just beyond the horizon.Waiting...

Temp:
Dry :+10 deg c
Wet:+5 deg c.
Dew Point :-3 deg c.
Location :
Lat :31 deg 36 min North
Long:127 deg 13 min East.

It's cold and miserably windy.Quite a contrast to the sunny Australia we just departed from.

Rough seas , large waves with foamy white crests and swells over three metres...northwesterly winds that send shivers down your spine...this sun casting a pale shadow on the thick grey oppressive clouds...furious waves crashing into the hull and erupting as a spray of fine salty mist ...these should paint a good enough picture to you about my present condition.
A pair of seagulls glide over the choppy seas in tandem , often soaring high and then crashing into the deep blue sea.They emerge out -chasing flying fish - only to fail repeatedly. And then Repeat...Rinse and Repeat , as desired...rinse and repeat , their cycle of life continues.

Fishing boats pass so close that one can smell the days catch from the bridge.

Of course I'm exaggerating .

They pass so close that one can actually make out the features of the fishermen all huddled up , waiting patiently for time to dissolve.

I'm totally wrong.

A week ago , a month ago , a year ago if you'd have asked me , I'd say I'd be scared shitless at the sight of so many fishing boats .

I'm not .

I surprisingly remain calm and confident.

Chasing ghosts has made me stronger.Chasing ghosts makes you lose fear to certain extent.
Alone on the bridge for hours together , staring at the endless sea in her various moods , chasing ghosts , hunting them makes one stronger.


And then it happend.

It felt like the fishing boat had materialized out of nowhere.A Ghost.

My mind screamed for immediate action and my body followed.I altered hard to starboard, ran back to the chart room to check for sufficient sea room and proximity of navigational hazards , and ran back out to monitor ghostly fishing boat.I was still searching for an echo to be painted on the radar screen but it never did.
As the expression goes ,I was now forced to steer by the seat of my pants, ...Anxious...it was a matter of saving lives. Including my own.

The fully laden ship groaned and lumbered sluggishly to the starboard.I watched in relief as the fishing boat passed safe and unharmed but uncomfortably close.

I was thankful.Chasing ghosts just saved two lives, including my own.



Chasing ghosts-hunting them , is a necessary obsession.One wrong move and the ghost will claim you and haunt you forever.

So take my advice .While chasing ghosts, be relentless- though you will face your demons on your way, they are nothing more than distractions.

Be strong, be brave - these demons can be defeated...for you have the power .
Remember ....but do not forget the ghosts.
You may think I'm paranoid- but you'll thank me later when you've found them where you've least expected them.


For all of you who I missed to wish,
A Merry X-mas and a Happy New Year
Vikas
Bontang , Indonesia

The Donkey and the Seaman

Once upon a time , in a kingdom far far away, the king had a pet donkey.The royal donkey , which held a title of 'The First Donkey ' ,or 'Your Assness' was a stubborn petulant spoiled pet , as is the case with most members of the royal family.

One day , the king , announced a kingdom wide competition called 'Make the donkey shake his head without touching it and win a million smackeroos*'.The title of the competition was self explanatory.
While no one knew why this particular competition was held , it was generally known that most kings had their way with their whims and fancies.But the citizens of the kingdom were far more motivated by the million smackeroos .Most of these had made plans of cashing in these smackeroos and emigrating to the neighbouring kingdom , where the king was not eccentric enough to hold competitions that required any ass head shaking.

When the competition began , many assumed it to be a walk in the park. Eager participants thought that all they had to do was dangle a carrot in front of the ass, and they would claim the million smackeroos.(most of them got the wrong end of the ass though !)
Thus , many came , many tried and many failed.The stubborn donkey would not even bat an eyelid or occasionally shake its tail to shoo away the flies.

Usually , at the end of such stories , comes the denouement in the form of a character who somehow manages to complete the aforementioned mission impossible in a tottaly novel and implausible way, and win the competition.

At this point in the story, some of you would have glanced at the title and killed the suspense for yourselves...Now tell me ...How does it feel ?Does it feel like spoilt milk or jockstrap itch ?You let me know.
Coming back ...Enter Seaman stage right.
The seaman walked confidently towards the donkey and whispered into its ear.
Lo !Behold ! The First Donkey began shaking its head , vigorously , in fear , till it got a Royal case of Whiplash.
Sadly due to some unforeseen complications,the First Donkey had to be put to sleep.

It was later reported by the local newspaper that king , alarmed by the violent reaction of his royal ass, had the seaman immediately arrested and hanged within a week.

What was not reported was that the seaman was interrogated and tortured by the Kingdom Far Far Away Secret Service in hopes that he would reveal his method of inducing terror in unsophisticated animals like donkeys.

The seaman's last words before getting executed were cryptic, and went something like this "I just asked him if he'd like to join the sea "

Pessimism is all around.Things aren't what they used to be , lament the old salts .All newcomers are derisively asked the same question."Didn't you find anything better ashore that you came here to waste your life ?'
Half of the crew wants to quit this life as soon as possible .They also want to drag the other half along with them.

Everyone has their own reasons.
The master wants to quit because his wife is expecting .The First mate , because he is newly married and misses his wife.The Able seaman wants to quit because this job and the money earned so far has given his family stability and security , but the family has moved on now.
Everybody wants to quit because of their personal reasons along with many general ones.Shorter port stays , increasingly stringent regulations, criminalization of seafarers, rampant commercialization , increase in responsibilities , stress and the wealth of options ashore , where one can spend his nights with his family at least.

This is a strange situation where demand and supply are threatening to become inversely proportional.No one knows how the shipping industry will tackle the twin problems of explosive boom of the industry and acute shortage of manpower together.

The Donkey and the seaman, or many of its variations are making rounds of the seafaring community.Having already heard three versions of this joke , the author would like to present his own.

It is fair to say that a career at sea is not for everyone.He must be able to deal with considerable responsibility right from the start.The officers ensure the safety of their ships, their shipmates and the environment Apart form safety , the officers and crew are also responsible for cargo that can be valued around 100 million USD or more .

The author would like to state that , although this career and lifestyle can be tough and stressful at times , working on board a ship offers a truly unique and stimulating lifestyle, at good wages and leave options.

One just requires the right temperament and attitude and a healthy degree of masochism are required to survive in this field.

So don't let the donkey dishearten you.After all it was just a royal pain in the ass.

Dead Inside

03/01/2008

I will have to note down the date somewhere because this was the day I died.

Late in the evening I was showering with the hot water in full blast.The entire bathroom had steamed up .The steaming water sprayed mercilessly , heating the body , numbing the senses.Closing my eyes , I stuck my head under the shower head.

Searing hot pinpricks of steaming water.
Oblivion.
Bliss of numbness.
I'm lovin' it !

Something prompted me to look into the mirror.As I cleared the steamed up surface , a lifeless face stared back at me , with empty eyes.A surprising revelation came to me - Something had just died inside me today.

I walked out , dazed ,naked, dripping water all over the floor, and began writing this.

I realize this was not the first time it had happened.I was dead inside before.I shower thrice daily , just so that the dead does not stink up the place.HA HA ! Pathetic attempts at being funny aside , I realized I was dead inside before.
But it is a phoenix...it dies and regenerates, only to die again and complete the circle of life.

I'm a zombie , an android , a soulless beast.

"It's for your own good " whispers a raspy , voice in my head.I've never heard this voice before...or Maybe I have , one of those nights , waking up and screaming, ."Duck , Duck , Feint , Feint , Jab , Jab , Left Hook , Right uppercut , Block , Block ,Block...BANG ! You're DEAD ! ...Now play possum , my dear ...." the voice rasps again.

Time is a healer .Time moves on .Time don't wait for anyone.
All it takes is a little time for the phoenix to arise, to soar with my soul, make me light inside.
Strangely the emptiness is comforting - it gives me more space to hide inside.

"Time is a healer"rasps the voice.

Time is an illusion.Nonexistent - I argue.The voice remains silent.

I'm left alone.
I'm empty.
I'm Numb.

I'm a zombie , an android , a soulless beast.

I'm dead.

I'm waiting.

Hazed , Dazed but Unfazed.

"OK .NOW WITH YOUR RIGHT HAND , YOU WILL CUP YOUR BALLS.FIRMLY ! LIKE THIS !"He showed us grabbing his own scrotum pulling it impossibly high and waving it around, "AND , EXTEND THE MIDDLE FINGER OF YOUR LEFT HAND AND STICK IT IN , LIKE THIS !"


Whaaaat ! Stick it in where ?.... Oh No ! Not there !

This was going to be a very looong night.

YOU ! " He shouted , brow knotted and nose flaring."ALL YOU JUNIORS , LISTEN UP ! THIS IS YOUR FIRST DAY IN THIS ACADEMY AND WE , AS YOUR SUPER-SENIORS WILL TEACH YOU WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE AN OFFICER"

His last name was Wagh , which meant Tiger.I heard a collective gulp of fear from my batchmatess.We felt like lambs up for slaughter!

"WE HERE IN THIS GRAND OLD INSTITUTION HAVE TO FOLLOW TRADITIONS! " Wagh kept hollering "Traditions are important for a sailor , and doubly important for an officer."

"LETS BEGIN THE INITIATION "Wagh shouted once again.

Out of nowhere two burly guys came and took two of us on to the podium.

We were in a dazed state of mind.
It was the middle of the night.

We had come to our training institute that very morning after a very long and tiring journey.Once in the isolated campus , we underwent registration and collecting our study material and going to our hostels.
Man , we were bushed .We were supposed to wake up at five AM , but some guys came up and woke all of us up in the middle of the night.Damn , I was pissed.


Wagh , our tiger with flaring nostrils continued..."Now we begin our initiation with our traditional song...repeat after me , while cupping your balls and your finger stuck firmly inside...AATOO MAATOO JHAATOO"

We sang in chorus... "Aato maatoo jhaatoo "

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU ! "

"AATOO MAATOO JHAATOO "

"That's much better !" said Wagh .

"AATOO. MAATOO. JHAATOO."
"L*ND. KA. MAKKHAN. "
"CH@#T. KA. DHAKKAN. "

"MEIN. APNE. SADE. HUE. L*ND. KE
KASAM. KA. KE. KEHTA. HOON .KI....."

It was a dirty limerick (please don't ask me to translate) , which we later found out that had been in existence for merely the last four years instead of the wildly exaggerated one hundred fifty years which our seniors had led us to believe.

I still remember standing there , cupping and fingering.Thank god I didn't know what the limerick meant back then , because back in those days I was one of the goody-goody boys who never swore and said any bad words.

The night was far from over...

"Look at my balls " a senior had just asked a timid looking fresher.When the timid boy would not look , he would be goaded and threatened .No sooner than the boy would look south , the senior would accuse him of being gay and say that he actually wanted the fresher to look into his eyeballs.

Some of us were asked to dance.We were asked to do dirty dancing , to make it as lusty and vulgar as possible , while the rest of us were made to sit and watch.The ones who were sitting were expressly forbidden to laugh at the ones who were dancing.The unfortunate ones that could not contain their laughter would be forced to join and participate in the dance.

I can't help it when there's something funny going on.Imagine watching a bunch of sleepy boys in their pajamas, dirty dancing , shaking their booty , swaying their hips , pouting and heaving non-existant boobs all over .

I laughed.

No .

Not only did I laugh , I guffawed , chortled and snorted like the little piggy that went to the market.I couldn't help it.I simply couldn't help it.

I was caught .In the next few minutes , two burly seniors would be hauling a very reluctant man on to the stage, and I would be , for the first time in my life , dirty dancing on a stage.

Brace yourself as this could turn ugly.

Anyone who knows a little about me , knows that I cannot dance.If there is anything in life at which I've miserably failed in , then that is Dancing.Dancing is greek to me , no it's more like esperanto ! I know how complicated dancing is...Your legs and hands move in unison and in different direction at the same time.The logistics of dancing are simply too mind boggling to a simpleton like me.Bad dancers usually have two left feet , but in my case , I had two left feet and two left hands and two cold un cooperating feet.

I know how complicated dancing is.wHICH IS WHY I RESPECT DANCERS or people who can move their body to the music and do it in a non-disgusting manner.

So there I was , on the stage , petrified and ordered by my seniors to look sexy while dancing.

Whatever that meant !

"DANCE " came a catcall "Shake your Boobs...shake it , shake it baby "

At this point , still frozen on the stage , I considered telling my seniors that as a guy I had no boobs to speak of and therefore would be unable to shake them , but this was not the time to act smart .
And thus I began dancing to a bunch of poker faced classmates.

To be continued...

Shippy 6

Shippy 5

Shippy 4

Shippy 2

More Photos in an around the ships I've worked on.
They aren't high resolution pics though , so Better watch them without maximising them.