(I started a new series recently on this topic. Many of you would be incredulous but I vouch for their factual correctness. All of these are first hand.)
The first one was titled: ‘Facts Stranger Than Fiction – Part I – Mister India And His Ship‘. Here is the second one.
In the first one I had brought out how Navy, as a service, is different from the service on land or in the air. It is not just because of the medium in which it operates. Unlike the other two services, naval platforms operate in all three media: the surface, underwater, and in the air. It is much more than that. Although it doesn’t require great technical expertise to be at sea (you can be on a log that floats), the Navy continues being a quaint service. Some of the curious things that happen at sea often amaze people and they keep asking such questions as: How could they have missed such a huge ship at sea? How did the ship just vanish? Was it a submarine? If I was there, it won’t have happened this way.
The fact is that seas are associated with strange things happening and many of these anecdotes beat the logic of the common sense and that’s why the title of the series.
To know about the sea, please read: ‘The Lure Of The Sea’.
I was commanding the tanker INS Aditya and whilst at anchorage in Mumbai: E3, (which is closer to Karanja than Mumbai because of a C-in-C who loved me intensely and hence kept me as far away from him as possible), I invited my course mates for dinner on board.
Someone commented: “I never knew that if you loved someone, you had to keep him at a distance.” I had only this to say: “Keeping distance from the loved one is part of Urdu folklore. Ever heard of Shama (Candle) and Parwana (Moth)? Parwana loves Shama but survives only if it keeps distance.
In order that the invitees won’t get lost, I sent the ship’s boat to fetch them. The engineering course mate Chaks, dutifully took the boat and arrived on board without much ado. But this is what three others, who were Fleet Commanding Officers, did: they refused to go by the tanker’s boat and said that they preferred to go by Brahamputra’s “more efficient and safer” boat. The subbie I had sent to fetch them offered to help with the navigation and Billoo, with the pride of a super navigator, declined the offer.
So, in order to cut a long story short, they ventured into the nightly Mumbai harbour with song on their lips and made fun of me, CO Aditya, for having lost his beans by sending my own boat for super-hot COs of the mighty Western Fleet. Luck favours the bold and sure enough on the horizon they spotted Aditya and asked the coxswain of the boat to steer a straight course for her.
However, as they drew closer, to their increasing chagrin, they discovered that Aditya had made no preparations to receive them. An averagely efficient ship would have hailed the boat at a distance of about five cables and established the identities of the passengers and guided the boat to the lower platform of the accommodation ladder. But, Ravi’s Aditya, might have had other fine qualities; but, they reckoned that receiving honoured guests on board in appropriate manner wasn’t amongst those.
The next horror was when they discovered that the ship hadn’t even lowered the accommodation ladder! “Aha” said my course-mates and their wives in unison, “For this slip, I think, Ravi would owe us drinks for the rest of their lives.”
Eventually, they did the opposite of good seamanship practice; and hailed the ship. For quite some time there was no response until one sleepy-eyed Officer of the Day (OOD) appeared on the upper deck. Three super hot course mates, on sighting the OOD, slanged him appropriately and told him to at least lower a jumping ladder for them. The dazed OOD had this going in about twenty minutes; in which time, my guests, nearly exhausted the expletives describing the ship Aditya and its Captain.
For my civilian friends, I must add here that a jumping ladder is normally used by such people as Pilots and Boarding Parties who board the ship at sea. These personnel are highly trained to board through this tricky hanging-by-ropes ladder; more so since the freeboard of a tanker is quite high.
Anyway, one by one three of my course mates and the ladies (in their high heels) eventually climbed on the upper decks. The OOD was now subjected to close quarters invective as opposed to the long-distance barrage that he was facing for the last about 45 mins. They pointed out all kinds of mistakes in the rigging of the jumping ladder and in other upper deck fittings. Still having no signs of their host appearing, they finally asked the OOD, “Where is your CO?” The OOD replied without a hint of remorse that CO was ashore!
“Ah” said one of them, “We should have known that Ravi has got the dates mixed up.”
At this, the OOD told them, “Sir, my CO is Captain Babu. Captain Ravi is CO Aditya, which is that ship beyond.”
The first one to recover from this faux pas was Bobby Chowdry who told the OOD, “Of course we know this is not Aditya; this is Shakti. But, on the way there we wanted to see for ourselves Shakti’s reactions. And, boy, you failed miserably. Now hurry up and help get the ladies back in the boat.”
I had no idea of the above snafu when I eventually received them on board about 90 minutes behind schedule. As Billoo stepped on board, I introduced my OOD, who was also the Navigating Officer of Aditya thus: “Billoo, please meet my NO, the second best Navigating Officer in the Fleet.”
This had an instant reaction on Billoo, “If you are mentioning tongue-in-cheek, that is, that I am the best Navigating Officer in the Fleet; you have another guess coming. First offer us a drink and then we shall tell you the story.”
The above story was then told to me. That night, we were into our fifth drinks when we hadn’t yet come to the end of the story and the laughter.
P.S. In the first anecdote in the series, you saw how a small Seaward Defence Boat became invisible. In the second you saw a huge tanker that became invisible. Wait for my third anecdote.
