BLOG 20 - MOVIES (ONCE AGAIN) AND A MADRAS ARRIVAL
- ranganathanblog
- Mar 13, 2022
- 8 min read
The perceptive reader may have noticed that my narratives start with 'Marine Musings 3', from the time I was 16+ years of age. 'Marine Musings 1 and 2' relate to periods from my child hood days. I had decided not to wear out the patience of the reader, hence had not published any portions of those narratives.
But a slight feeling of pique prevailed, so I intend to bring in excerpts from those days in my prologues once in a while, before I get back to the main narrative. They will be akin to the 'flashbacks' of present day movies.
I had written about movies during the College days.
My earliest memory of movies start from my village - where I was born - Wandiwash (colonial name) in North Arcot District - now renamed Vandavasi and now a sizable town.
A bullock cart with posters on the sides, a drummer walking by the side, another handing out flyers about the movie and we snot nosed children would be running behind to collect the flyers - all to advertise the black-and-white movie being shown in the local "kottaai" - a ramshackle shed with chairs at the back at 4 annas, just below the hole-in-the-wall for the beaming light of the projector, benches next at 2 annas and a a large sandy area in front at 1 anna for people to sit on the ground.
My (maternal) uncles. aunts and numerous cousins were my first companions to the "cinema kottaai".
About 20 of us occupied the chairs and benches.
The movie was 'Samsaram' (not easily translatable into English as it has a plethora of meanings from family to wife to a highly philosophical endless cycle of birth and suffering and death and rebirth) , a real tear jerker that showed in stark detail the plight of the times, the harsh realities of the poverty and suffering of the 1940s and 1950s.
My aunts cried buckets.
My uncles sniffled bravely.
After that, I tended to stay away from such emotional movies, as they affected me badly.
Chapter 5 - Transit through the Panama Canal, loading wheat at Portland.
To my chagrin, I find that I do not have much of a recollection of my first transit through the Panama Canal, possibly because I was in the Engine Room. I do remember that we bunkered at Balboa, on the Pacific side of the Canal and then continued on to Portland.
I am unable to remember any details of the Portland stay or the Pacific crossing, except for minor storms and small breakdowns. We bunkered again at Singapore and went on to reach Madras, my home port.
Chapter 6 - Seeing Chennai from the seaward side
So, braving storms and breakdowns, we kept traversing the seas and, one day (15th March 1971) we were alongside at Madras. After the vessel was cleared by Immigration and Customs, my Father was one of the first to board the ship. Getting passes to visit the ship – for civilians – was always cumbersome and difficult. But, my Father just drove in, in a military jeep from his office located nearby in Fort St. George. I was really glad to see him. After a few minutes he gave me the news that my maternal Grandfather had passed away a week or so ago, at Wandiwash (Vandavasi). I had always been close to him and had visited him just prior to my joining the ship. The news gave me a feeling of ‘déjà vu’ as I recollected a dream of a week or so prior, where my Grandfather appeared and spoke to me. Now, I am not one of those who easily recalls dreams, but I distinctly remembered this one after my Father told me the news. I wonder what is indicated by that coincidence.
The first two or three days I could not go home, due to a lot of maintenance work that needed to be done after a long sea voyage. On the third day, around 1400 hrs, the ‘Sukhani’ (who was keeping gangway watch) came down to the Engine Room asking for me. He told me ‘Saab, aap ka guest koi aaya hai’ (Sir, some guests have come for you ).
At that time, I had been cleaning the scavenge spaces along with other staff. (In an MAN KZ type, loop scavenged engine, one of the really dirty jobs is cleaning the scavenge ports, scavenge spaces or renewing scavenge valves, because of the amount of carbon + oil mix that accumulates in the narrow trunking which we have to crawl through). As a consequence my boiler suit was black and filthy with oil and carbon. So, I went up to the accommodation to see who it was.
Gathered in the Smoke Room were my Mother, my sister, my Uncle, my cousins – a whole tribe of them. I had not been expecting them, so both were equally surprised – me on their visit and they on my condition. Anyway, I excused myself for a few minutes, went down and got permission from the 2nd Engineer, raced up and had a quick shower and joined my visitors in a more clean boiler suit. After a quick look into my small cabin – which could not accommodate all of them – we went back to the Smoke Room.
My Steward and the Chief Cook gladly obliged in getting sandwiches, biscuits, cokes and coffee ready for all of them. In the meantime, I took them on a guided tour of the easier parts of the ship, the accommodation and the Bridge. They all saw the Engine Room from the top platform only. Back in the Smoke Room, all were excitedly talking and helping themselves to the snacks, except my Mother – she was very much withdrawn and did not say a word and they all left the ship.
The same evening I went home. My Mother was pretty upset and after a bit of coaxing, she said that seeing me so dirty had upset her and she asked me to leave the job. It took a while to convince her otherwise.
Here I must mention the first steward who looked after me, a grizzled old man, who spent a lot of his time looking after me. If I was asleep in my cabin, he used to patrol the corridors to ensure nobody made a noise that would awaken me. He would wake me up in time for me to go on watch, with a tray containing a coffee pot and serve me hot coffee. When I used to return from a watch, he would immediately provide daintily cut vegetable or cheese sandwiches - since I was a vegetarian - and make some tea for me. In all my seafaring life, there was only one other steward who was that old man’s equal - I was a Chief Engineer then.
We stayed in Madras Port for nearly a month. Shipboard practice and rules were – if you went ashore, you had to return, even if it is late in the night, and sleep on board. My brother Ramamuthy and I had an arrangement where he would pick me up at the Harbour Gate around 1730 / 1800 in the evenings. No cell phones those days. So, he would come on his scooter and wait at the gate till I finished work, had a bath and left ship. While waiting, he noticed that the Police Inspector in charge of the gate looked familiar. So, he went up to the Inspector and asked him, “ Aren’t you Francis?”. The Inspector responded and affirmed it and asked my brother how he knew the name. My brother explained.
It transpired that Francis was the captain and goal keeper for the Madras Police hockey team, who were regular participants in the MRC Gold Cup tournament held annually at Wellington. During my Father’s Wellington stint, my brother and I were keen spectators of all the matches being played. Francis was one of the top class goal keepers in the tournament, who had represented India in 3 Olympics , having got Gold medals in all three.
Wikipedia says:
Ranganathan Francis
Ranganathan Francis (March 15, 1920 – December 1, 1975) was an Indian field hockey player who competed in and won three gold medals in the 1948 Summer Olympics, 1952 Summer Olympics, and 1956 Summer Olympics.
Ranganathan was the goalkeeper of the Indian hockey team which emerged the world champion by bagging gold at the Olympics three times in a row — London (1948), Helsinki (1952) and Melbourne (1956). Often described as a 'Titan between the Posts', Francis served the then Madras Police and retired in 1968.
Having retired from Madras Police, he had taken up security duties at Madras Port when my brother and I met him. He was overjoyed at being recognized after nearly 12 years and they spent quite a while reminiscing, till I came from the ship. Belatedly, Francis realised that my brother did not have a pass and hence could not go up to the ship to pick me up. He then told the other security staff that ‘ Ulla porthuku Saarukku pass ellam thevai illai. Avaru ennoda guest’. (Translated - “Sir (my brother) does not need a pass to enter the Harbour. He is my guest). Having learnt that I was from the Chennai Perumai, he visited me often on board during our stay In Madras and also helped a lot of my shipmates. A gem of a person.
I still recollect a particular scene from the tournament: Madras Police were not doing too well and were losing. From the goalmouth, Francis would shout to his team and tell them what to do, with the choicest of Tamil expletives. During one of the frustrating moments, he took the ball from his own ‘D’, dribbled through a host of defenders – all the time wearing his goal keeper pads – and once the opposing team’s goal keeper was also beaten, passed the ball to one of his teammates to score.
He died in 1975.
I believe his family is in poverty. Chennai Hockey Association, after a lot of pressure are, belatedly, helping out and also propose to name the Egmore Stadium in his honour, as Francis Stadium.
He gave a lot of pleasure to a ten year old boy, with his exploits on the hockey field.
Something else of import happened during our Chennai stay. The 1960s and 1970s had been pretty harsh on Engineering Graduates. Engineering colleges had mushroomed, but not many jobs were available for the graduates. In early 1970, to ease the unemployment amongst Graduate Engineers, the Government of India passed an order that Indian Shipping Companies had to select an appropriate number of graduates and take them on board for further training, if found fit. 12 were selected by SISCO from amongst 600 applications.
To give them a feel of what an engineer’s life at sea was all about, all 12 were sent on board to acclimatise themselves and work in the engine room. Divided into 4 groups, each group was given a particular job, mostly to do with cleaning work. At that time, I was cleaning the scavenge space and had three of the new group with me. Apart from showing them what needs to be done, I was also cleaning the spaces alongside them. The carbon and dirty oil was a shock to them, as they had never dirtied their hands ever. When they went up for lunch, 11 of the twelve quietly put on their civilian clothes and left the ship, never to return. Only one, Sathyanarayanan, continued, came back the next day and stuck. As he explained to me later, he had nowhere else to go.
It takes a different mindset, a stubbornness and a deep resolve to stay at sea and face the rigours of sea life.
Chennai to Goa, going around Ceylon (Sri Lanka), for a cargo of iron ore to Japan, was our next assignment.
===== Blog 21 next =====
I like the weaving in and out flashbacks. The movie, Samsaram, is quite famous and I believe N.T. Rama Rao starred in it. The story of R. Francis is fascinating! I hope his family is getting the help that they need. Our nation seems to forget individuals who help build it quite casually. A shame!