I'm tired of it. Really. Okay, some of you old salts may say I'm too much
of a tyro to make that kind of dictum, but I mean it. And yes sir, I do know
that seven years of sailing doesn't really give a young officer too many
griping rights. But the pen, or in this case, the keyboard is mightier than
the ETA so hear me out, will you please?
You see, from the moment the first airline counter girl sneered when she saw
my CDC till after I tied a clove hitch to my suitcase from a bobbing boat
below my first gangway, I've heard it. I've heard it from your lips, I've
seen it in your eyes and I've read it in your minds. It started with the
first 'funda' I heard on the airplane itself. I will not count the pearls of
wisdom doled out to wide eyed cadets at the training ship by those 'caring'
seniors. From day one, we are pelted with it over and over again. What am I
talking about? The cribbing about sea life of course.
'Ooh this rotten sea life..' 'Life on land is so much better.' 'Nothing
in my life really worked out too well. That's why I'm here.' 'You know that
guy, the son of my granddad's postman's niece? He started out pretty much in
the same place I did, but now look at him. He's got a great house, a great
wife, a great life and I feel terrible and get a complex just looking at
him.' Okay, I made up that last part, but that is the implication is it not?
It's spoken in conversation, as a starting point. Much like two smokers
light up to break the ice. Two sailors will sit down in the smoke room or
at the airport lounge while joining together and finding no common ground
will switch on Cribbing Central- primetime. 'We have it so hard' one will
say as his colleague concurs vigorously. 'Thank god my son did not choose
this line. I gave him an ultimatum you know- if you choose the gangway,
it's the highway for you'. The other gentleman, who is waiting for his turn
under the crib central spotlight, starts off the instant the other pauses to
catch his breath. 'I've got just five months twenty nine days and six hours
to go. We have it so tough. Wonder if the blasted office will mess with my
contract duration like they did with the guy before me. You know what
happened to him? Blah..blah..' If this were an isolated incident, I would be
tempted to dismiss it as the moaning of the odd whiner. But the sad truth
is that most of us, even the optimists, are convinced about it. The fact
that one is only sailing for the money is spoken with pride. Accepted. But
the put down of sea life and the ocean that follows that statement is
unfair. My real bugbear is that the positives are not given their due at
all. What follows are some of the blessings I have experienced as a direct
result of being a sailor. A fact which I will be proud of till my last
breath.
Most of us joined the sea very early in life. At an age when we were just
out of our teens and putting the first wary steps into adulthood. We were
thrust into this world of hard work, high tension and the hardest challenge
of all- the professional relationship with seniors and peers. All this at a
time when most of our friends back home have the support system of a family
to come back to each day or at the very least, time off work every evening.
Excepting the odd person who opts out early, all of us learn to cope. We
miss our loved ones, but we start getting the job done. Responsibility is
thrust upon us from day one and we earn the pride of task accomplishment
that goes with it. We discipline our minds and bodies to do our jobs day in
and day out. There is no entire day off, no weekend at an uncles home or a
drink at the pub with friends at the end of the day. Feeling low? Do your
job. Miss home? Tough. Do your job. Got a headache? I'm sorry for you buddy.
Now, do your job. Missing a birthday party? Aww..poor baby. Do your job. We
get used to always being on call and sometimes doing more than a single
man's job. Job security? What's that? You are only as good as your last
contract. You may do the finest job a man can, but one wrong decision
coupled with bad luck may end your career. No second chances.
We learn the reality of the world early on: expect no recognition if you do
a good job, but reap the whirlwind if you fall short. We deal with it in
different and not always pleasant ways of course, but the consequence is
always the same. For better or worse, we get toughened up and we grow. Very
early first steps on our way to becoming, hopefully, sagacious leaders.
We care for the environment. Okay, I agree that the phenomenally scary
penalties for non compliance have had more than a little say in this. But
whatever the initial impetus, the point is that it becomes second nature for
all of us. A sailor's hand will always hesitate before he throws plastic
garbage. The importance of recycling is ingrained way too much into our
psyche. And that's always a good thing.
Every shippie is a multitasker. Thinking out of the box is a skill every
one on board has to acquire to survive. We learn how to fix the unfixable
and make do with what is available. The result? Inside every sailor is a
(albeit latent) handyman. We maybe languid at home but we still have the
skills madam. So there. Our senses are fine tuned and sharper than the
average Joe's because we have to stay alert at all times. Few professionals
have to worry about a fighting a fire or abandoning ship in churning waves
while he works. In the words of one of my mates- we learn to look for the
almost invisible boats, listen for the tiniest sound and sniff out the
faintest of smells even while asleep.
Being away from home, though painful to both sides, helps us care for our
families very much. To quote a French moralist, 'Absence lessens the minor
passions and increases the great ones, as the wind douses a candle and
kindles a fire.' We cherish the precious moments with our loved ones and
hopefully make supporting fathers/husbands.
As mentioned earlier, people skills are amongst the most valuable (and
toughest to acquire) one can gain by being at sea. You work your way up
from arguments and confrontations to the diploma level of getting your work
done with a combination of diplomacy and a grin-and-bear-it attitude. This
particular adroitness deserves a separate, laminated license in my book.
Experiences in dealing with different cultures on a very personal level add
to our learning. We are world travelers. We see the world and its people,
and all are ambassadors for our country. Not just the different
nationalities we relate to during port stays but the personal know-how
gained when we sail with them. After all, you get to see the best and worst
of any man when you sail with him for a few months.
The vastness of the ocean puts things in perspective for even the most
hard-nosed sailor. All of us are in the midst of a constant reality check.
The worst of personal problems always seem trivial when you look out into
the deep blue. Appreciation for nature is no mere theory for us. We have
lived through it. The Ocean's fury and beauty can truly be appreciated by
those in her midst. How lucky we are to pass through a rainbow, sail
alongside and call out to the dolphins and whales, look up at an unpolluted
crystal clear starry night sky or get bathed in a one minute cloudburst? We
are all so fortunate.
Need I go on gentlemen? We are the men of the sea, part of an ancient line
of people with salt in their veins. The proudest of histories were written
on water.
As a boy, who hasn't dreamt of being a captain Hook or sailing away into the
sunset in search of adventure? We live out a little of that every day. We
earn of course, but we also see new places, grow, and discover more to life
in the process.
She's our water. Don't step on her

Jeevan Suhas