BLOG 32 - MARINE MUSINGS 5 - I Obtain my Second Class Part 'B' Certificate

"You can take me out of the Ship and Sea, but you won't be able to take the Ship and Sea out of me"

Sorry - the above may sound crass, but I am just giving vent to something deep inside me.

Chapter 1 is a rather very personal account of my family. I wavered between putting it down on paper or not writing it at all. Please accept my apologies, if I inadvertently trampled upon anyone's sensitivities.

MARINE MUSINGS 5

Chapter 1

I am on leave. My sister gets married.

I had signed off at Tuticorin and taken the Tuticorin ~ Chennai Express. I got off at Tambaram Station and took a taxi from Tambaram to Chromepet. Why I mention the taxi was that it was a luxury that was shunned in a frugal, conservative household. But the taxi was essential as I had heavy luggage.

My family veered between extreme conservatism, represented by my Mother, and modernity, represented by my Father. Many a time we, as children, would not know what to do, but my Mother would always prevail.

At Chromepet, in the suburbs of Chennai, we had a modest house, set in a plot of land. The taxi stopped in front of the house, I took all the luggage out and, keeping the pieces in the compound, paid off the taxi and turned around to greet all of the family who had, by now, come out of the house.

My Mother stopped me from entering the house. She told me to go around to the back of the house, bathe with water drawn from the well and then only enter the house.

I was shocked and angry, to say the least. I turned around and told the taxi driver to wait, just as he was about to drive off.

From around the age of 10, I used to have plenty of conflicts with the ultra conservatism of my Mother, imbibed from her Mother. All of the family, literally, till then, had humoured her so as to keep the peace. Ultra Conservative households, traditionally, used to 'purify' and conduct religious rites, before allowing a household member to enter the house, if he or she had gone across oceans. My Mother was invoking that tradition.

Shocked and angry, I took my briefcase containing all my documents and one other suitcase containing my clothes and put them back into the waiting taxi. I told my Mother that I will go back right now and join the ship and will not enter the house.The taxi driver, sensing some kind of a conflict, did not drive off immediately and waited.

My Father, although very short tempered had, mostly, acquiesced with my Mother, in order to keep things quiet. But, on this occasion, he sternly told her to go inside or there will be disastrous consequences. Realising what she had done, she went inside, scared. My Father then told me to not pay heed to her and asked me to come in. I did so. For the next two days, my Mother and I did not speak. Slowly normalcy returned and I saw a change in my Mother's conservatism, very much for the better.

Actually, this incident made me start questioning all and each of the traditional practices at home and I refused to accept practically all of them. In later years, I realised that I had also thrown out the good ones, throwing out the baby with the bathwater, sort of.

Traditions moor you to an ideal. Ultra conservatism ties you to a spot. Having none, I became a wanderer for the rest of my life.

My reaching home was, after a couple of days, a happy time for all. We were seeing each other after more than a year. But I found myself sleeping morning, noon and night. Either my Mother or my Sister used to wake me up for either coffee or tiffin or meals. Till I reached home, I did not realise how tired I was or how much energy had been sapped from the body. I had lost nearly 7 kilos in weight.

This cyclical trend of going on a ship, working and returning home after having lost weight became more or less a regular feature for the next ten years. Sometimes it was bad, sometimes more tolerable, depending on the ship. But I never noticed it till I came home and was clucked at by the family, nor did I rue this fact at all – except on 2 occasions which I will relate later – because I found myself enjoying the work that I was putting in on each ship.

After the first two years, I began to realise that I was enjoying my job and this enjoyment did not diminish over the next 40+ years of my association with the sea, even though there have been several occasions when I was faced with what I then thought as insurmountable adversities.

4 to 5 days of eat-sleep-bathe-eat-sleep routine and the body would perk up. In fact, the number of days of this eat-sleep pattern after returning home, became the bar or template through which I rated the intensity of work that I had done on a particular ship. As long as I was in the cauldron of pressure, I never realized it. It was only after I reached home that it would strike me.

It was only after this home-coming, that I understood the enormous tension and pressure that my seniors would have felt when, as a junior, it affected me so much. My respect for them grew. These two years, especially the last few months, hardened me, made me mentally tougher and instilled in me a never-give-up attitude that stood me in good stead for the rest of my life.

So, after a few days, I woke up to the living world, only to find that the entire family had been tip-toeing around me with worry writ on all their faces. They had seen me arrive haggard of body but with the same old spirit. They were reassured when I perked up and became my usual self. Slowly as I began to unwind, my Father began to understand the enormity of the pressures of sea life, him not having much of pressure in a Central Government Defence Sector job during his 35 year career.

My Mother’s culinary prowess started peaking to such an extent where the rest of the family would compare the culinary fare to the prior-arrival-of-Rangan period to the post-arrival period. Even my Father would say that I should come home more often.

The Philips ‘fridge was unpacked and put into use, the first ‘fridge at home. Milk became the first product to enter the ‘fridge in slightly increased quantities as, previously, the amount of milk kept at home would ‘spoil’ soon due to lack of refrigeration. With availability of more milk, I could not help having more coffee. Vegetables also found their home in the ‘fridge, now requiring lesser number of visits to the grocer’s.

The ‘Seiko’ wall clock went up on the wall. The Venetian Gondola went into the showcase.

The ‘Remington’ portable typewriter was taken out from the suitcase. I had bought it with the vague idea that I would admit myself to a Type Writing Institute for a short period, for a crash course in typing and practicing at home.

It may come as a surprise to the youngsters of today, but Type Writing Institutes used to flourish in the pre-1980 period and was a source of employment to a multitude of less academically inclined persons or those who are financially impaired and could not pursue higher studies, as they could pass several typewriting exams and get gainfully employed. Very affordable amounts were needed for the training and the examinations, including 'shorthand'.

There were dozens, cumulatively into the tens of thousands, with typewriters, stamped paper and other paraphernalia of their trade, sitting outside various Courts, various Government Offices, typing out petitions, legal documents and the like, for an ignorant public and also being a treasure trove of the legalese involved. Alas, a breed that just vanished with the influx of bits and bytes.

I always felt that the clack-clacking of numerous typewriters was about the sweetest sound one could hear in a busy office. The inception of computers and printers into daily life put paid to the Type Writing Institute of yesteryear, although the ‘qwert..’ model of the keyboard is still in vogue. The more enterprising Institute Owners quickly switched from typewriters to computers and came up with ‘Browsing Centres’, which are prevalent even today.

My Father saw the new typewriter. He opened the cover, dusted it, put in the supplied new ribbon and wound it, put in a backing paper and a clean sheet of paper, lightly ran his finger tips over the keys and, much in the fashion of a top class pianist, started clacking away at the typewriter, typing from a news item.

I sat down and watched, flabbergasted. I had always felt that the skill needed to use all fingers to type needs to be acquired from training. When queried on his skill in typing, he said that before he joined the Military Engineering Services, for a period of time he worked as a Clerk in the Munsif Court, where he had to type the court proceedings as and when witnesses were being examined, instantly translating, if need be, into English. Chances of employment must have been pretty bad in the 1930s for an University topper to be a recording typist in a court. (He stood first in Madras University in BSc in 1935, his name still being up in Presidency College, Madras)

Slowly my suitcases were getting empty after distributing shirts to the males, sarees and perfumes to the females. These included my numerous cousins who, on hearing that I was home, came a-visiting, some to stay for a few days.

My aunts – Chithis (Mother’s younger sisters or Father’s younger brother’s wife) and Athais (Father's sisters) – and cousins became frequent visitors, with each one unburdening themselves of their problems, when getting me alone. From my teenage years, I had been the recipient of their confidences. I listened to them fervently and helped them out in various ways.

It became a habit to assemble on the terrace after dinner, during which I would dramatically tell them about the sea, the ports I visited and the various experiences I had at sea. The weather used to be pretty hot, so most of us used to sleep on the terrace, talking far into the night. This became a regular feature till 1980, whenever I was home. I had always been very close to my cousins and aunts and these visits made it stronger.

Hardly a week later, my Mother asked me to accompany her to the family astrologer in Triplicane, her belief in astrology mirroring her parents and grandparents. My Father was not an avid believer, but did not stop my Mother from having her beliefs. I did not know enough to doubt nor acclaim. We were going to the astrologer to consult him and compare my sister’s horoscope with others received from prospective grooms.

The astrologer, an old gentleman, did not know me at all and I was introduced to him by my Mother as ‘My son’.

He was in his 80s. Conservative, traditional. Fading eye sight and afflicted with gout, wearing a ‘dhoti’ with a bare upper body covered by a thin ‘angavastram’ (a shoulder cloth). These ‘dhotis’ and ‘angavastrams’ are normally cotton ones for daily use, but turn into silken ones for functions.

He was living with his wife in a row house close to Parthasarathy Temple. The house was on one of the streets surrounding the Temple, traditionally called ‘South Mada Street’ or ‘North Mada Street’. The walls were common to their neighbour’s. A well, full of water, was in the central portion of the house, which was sufficient for their needs.

Due to his failing eyesight, he would see horoscopes from around noon till 4pm as, then, sunlight would slant in through the window and shed its light on a small desk beside which he would be sitting on the floor. The room was stacked with books, mostly in Tamil or Sanskrit, along with hundreds of old and new almanacs, called ‘panchangams’.

My Mother sat in front of him and they discussed each horoscope. He would take each one, spend time in checking various almanacs, write on a fool’s cap sized paper and calculate. He would compare the calculations with the horoscope of my sister, reject quite a number with his preliminary calculations and put aside the ones that needed to be studied in more detail. Slowly, the bunch of 30 or so horoscopes was whittled down to 4, when he pronounced that these 4 are a close match.

Meanwhile I, not being very interested in the proceedings, was sitting a few feet away and reading a Tamil magazine. After completing the consultation, my Mother went in to talk to the wife of the astrologer, as they had known each other for years.

Left alone with the elderly gentleman – I called him ‘Maama’ (Uncle), in the tradition of respecting an elder as done by countless generations in the South, although not related by blood – I looked up and saw him watching me with a bemused look in his eye. I had been very quiet all along. The conversation that followed went in this fashion in Tamil, although narrated in English:

Him: You don’t seem interested in this at all. You look like someone who does not believe in astrology.

Me: Maama, I don’t know enough on the subject to voice an opinion. Hence, I keep quiet in order to respect those who believe.

Him: Fair enough. Now, give me that family diary that is in your Mother’s bag.

I did so and passed on the diary.

He turned a few pages till he came to my horoscope. The entire family members’ horoscopes were all in this diary.

Horoscopes are, basically, the position of planets at the time of one's birth. A lot more details can be added, but I will refrain from doing so, as they can easily be Googled nowadays, at the click of a small rat.

He neatly penned some figures in columns and frequently consulted my horoscope and a set of almanacs. At the end of about 15 minutes, he looked up.

Him: Okay, ask me any questions and I will do my best to answer, based on astrology and your horoscope.

Me: I hardly know what to ask.

Him: I will tell you a few things about yourself. Correct me if I am wrong.

Your academics was just above average but never brilliant. (It was correct).

At the age of 14 you escaped a fire accident with minor injuries. (Correct) (I had burnt both my hands badly in a stupid way when handling Deepavali fireworks).

At 18, in August 1966, you joined a College that had something to do with water. (Correct) (I joined DMET for training to go out to sea as a Marine Engineer).

At 19, you were involved in a court case, but came out of it unscathed after a few years. (Correct) (I was involved in a ragging case which meandered along for 3 years and was finally thrown out by the High Court).

At 22, in October 1970, you started in a profession that had something to to with water. I am assuming that, since it had to do with water, you joined the Navy. (Correct except it wasn’t the Navy, it was the Merchant Navy).

I was flabbergasted, more so from the fact that he mentioned the months involved. Even my parents would not have remembered the exact months.

All I could do was prostrate myself at his feet and pay my obeisance to the past millennia of generations that could come up with a method of getting to know the past of an individual and forecast his future – all from the alignment of planets, stars and constellations. It also showed our ancestors’ deep knowledge of the movement of stars, constellations and planets, all this without the aid of optical and other sophisticated instruments, which we now call astronomy.

Of the four matching horoscopes, a near perfect match was one of a well educated groom who came from a very rich, business oriented family. Having seen my sister at a function, they had liked her and were willing to arrange for the marriage without comparing and matching horoscopes, without any dowry. But my Mother, being the hard nosed conservative that she was, insisted on matching of horoscopes. It had matched perfectly. I also visited that family casually, alone, and liked what I saw. My Father and Mother had almost made up their minds.

On our return home from the astrologer, my sister, naturally, was the one who was most eager to see who were the ones whose horoscopes matched. Then she dropped her bombshell. She said she wanted me to accompany her to a movie. She had manouvered to get me alone to tell me that she wanted to get married to one of the four, a different groom from our choice. She wanted my help to play Cupid and persuade my parents. I already knew she had been bunking classes to meet him, so the affair was serious.

I went to meet him. He went overboard trying to impress me. He was, then, a struggling dentist, in a large, struggling family. I tried to persuade my sister otherwise, pointing out the kind of difficult life she would lead. But she would not relent. I, then, persuaded my parents without going into details.

The last straw was when they asked for 'dowry' at the last minute, which I was dead set against. She did get married to him and, poor thing, suffered. Stoically, she struggled on for most of her life. The Dentist could not earn enough to make ends meet.

She got herself a job, worked hard, rose to a position of prominence, sent her two children on scholarships abroad and is now a happy grandmother a few times over.

In the South, there is a saying - "Give your daughter in marriage into a rich family, so that she lives a plentiful life and take a daughter-in-law from a relatively poorer family, so that she can live a plentiful life". In the present day, this will not apply, as we have moved away from joint families to 'nuclear' families. In joint families, the elderly used to be looked after till their deaths. in today's world, they are either incarcerated in 'old age homes' if affordable, or left to fend for themselves. There is no dignified death for them.

My memory deceives me but I have the impression I spent about 4 odd months at home, during which time my sister got married. I was the official escort for my mother, taking her wherever she wanted to go. Most of the visits were to see her brothers and sisters. My elder brother and I did most of the 'leg work' that goes into arrangements for a marriage, with most of the orders being "Hey you, lift that bale, shift that sack". Well, not exactly, but I am sure you get the point. Most of it fell on my shoulders, as my brother had his job to attend to.

I spent a lot of time talking to my Father. Our closeness had been sporadic at best. Now, with both of us being at home, we talked, we discussed, we listened and we grew very close to each other.

I also spent a lot of time reviewing my extensive notes, in preparation for my 2nd Class Part ‘B’ exam.

It was time to stop gallivanting and get serious about getting my 'Part B' certificate.

Chapter 2 – On leave – I go to Bombay for my exams, which I attend along with initiation into mouth watering cuisine

I had the choice of going to Calcutta or Bombay to do my 2nd Class Part ‘B’ exams. I had heard that waiting period in Calcutta was much longer than in Bombay. Also the fact that food wise it would be easier for me, as restaurants were more numerous, made me choose Bombay.

Accommodation was not available in Marine College and I was kept in the queue. I had to stay at Seaman’s Club located at Ballard Estate. Was the road name Nicoll Road? I am not sure. The Royal Seaman’s Club catered to seafarers of all nationalities, but most of the rooms were occupied by Indians. The accommodation was modest but very cheap by Bombay standards. It had a restaurant and bar. Other ground floor rooms had billiard tables.

Phiroze Patel, my batchmate, was also there to appear for the same exam. The Seaman’s Club was only a stopgap accommodation till we were allotted rooms in the Marine College campus. During the Seaman’s Club stay, I got to know downtown Bombay pretty well.

Breakfast would be at an Irani restaurant around the corner from the Club and consisted of eggs, bread or buns and coffee or tea. Lunch would be a modest vada pav or pav bhaji. Only once did we go to an upscale restaurant, Kwality’s near Flora Fountain, where I was introduced to Channa Batura. Or else, we would go to Sher-e-Punjab, where I was introduced to Punjabi vegetarian dishes (except for anda burji), dum aloo, bhindi masala, lassi and other mouth watering cuisine. At the height of the afternoon, we would make our way to a fruit juice stall around the corner, where I tasted Mango juice and Mango milk shake for the first time, along with other fruit juices. We would go ‘Dutch’, in order not to burden any one person with the bill.

Another learning experience was Billiards and Snooker, which Phiroze taught me. He was an accomplished player, having started playing since his Bombay DMET days. But I learnt fast.

Having come to Bombay for an exam, it looked like I was gallivanting around town, wasting my time. But 3 weeks down the line, I was saved by my being allotted a room in DMET or Marine College Hostel, which catered to post DMET students.

I had been advised by all and sundry that the path to follow before giving your exams is to join this hostel, make extensive use of the College Library and study in earnest for at least 3 months or so, before appearing for the exam that is conducted by the Ministry of Transport (as it was then known) every month, with 60 (or 40?) candidates appearing. Previous months and years question papers would be available from somebody or the other, for one to study or revise.

The College and Hostel were situated in Haybunder, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, unlike the Seaman’s Club. Not much was available, restaurant wise, in close proximity. One had to take a bus, then a train to reach areas where we can eat wholesome food. I say this because the Hostel food was awful, forcing us to, at least once in a while, seek other places to eat.

Amongst my batch mates, I was a late entrant to the hostel, most of whom had already finished their exams more than 7 to 10 months ago and had joined back. I had been delayed due to not getting leave from the ship and was one of the laggards. Along with me, there were about 7 of my batch mates, more or less the last of my batch. But, we all studied, consulted and argued. I thought my preparation for the exam was insignificant, due to the highly theoretical arguments and discussions that used to take place, where I was at a loss. It seemed I had prepared the wrong way on board. But I took sustenance from some of the old question papers, which I thought needed to be answered practically.

The system was that one applied and ‘booked’ a seat for a particular month, depending on availability. I can’t recollect if they had a maximum limit of 40 or 60 candidates who could appear each month. Papers are checked, eligibility is assessed (each candidate had to complete 18 months of Article time and 12 months of ‘Propelling’ time to be eligible). 4 papers have to be completed, Electricity, Basic Naval Architecture and Ship Construction and 2 on Engineering Knowledge, popularly known as ‘EK1’ and ‘EK2’.

The written papers were followed by Orals, where an MMD (Mercantile Marine Department) Surveyor, sometimes 2 of them, would fire questions on – mostly - engineering subjects and ship board practices, mostly practical ones. You stood no chance of passing your Orals if you have not scored well in the written subjects.

If you fail your writtens, you will have to appear once again for all subjects. If you pass your writtens and fail your Orals, you may be told to appear for all once again or only for the Orals when seats are available, which sometimes can take as many as 6 to 8 months.

Quite a number of the candidates who were in Hostel, a few of them being my batch mates, had attempted the exam at least once in the past 6 months or so and were studying for a second shot. A fear factor had been induced in me by some of the others, stating that EK1 and EK2 and Orals were hard to cross. Practically all my batch mates who were in the hostel, had been preparing for at least 6 months and were – most of them – appearing either the first time or the second time in the month that I joined the hostel.

Since seats were hard to come by, I went to MMD (who were conducting the exam) to book a seat for the earliest month available. I was wanting a slot 3 or 4 months later, but the Exam Clerk told me that the earliest was after 7 months. However, he added that there had been one cancellation for this month’s exam and I could have it if I wanted to. The exam was then 22 days away. I grabbed the slot, with the thought that were I to fail, I would still have to wait for another 7 or so months for appearing again. And, what if I pass the first time around?

My passing first shot would not bear thinking, as statistics were against it. For the last 4 months, no candidate had passed EK1 and EK2, although they had passed the mathematical subjects. Some did comment that I was being foolish by making the attempt without formal and more in-depth preparation. But, in the corner of my mind was the question ‘If what I had prepared on the ship was not preparation, then had I been wasting my time’?

I boldly went ahead and studied and burnt the proverbial midnight oil. From past question papers, a sort of pattern seemed to appear, where some questions and allied subjects were emphasised one month and other questions and subjects in another month. I shared this with my batch mates, because of which some of them started concentrating on certain topics.

Three of the topics were ‘Lubricants’ and ‘Fuel Oil’ and ‘Purification using Centrifuges’. If I needed to write on these subjects, it should be scholarly and not the same rote that everyone was writing. Not much information could be gleaned from the, mostly old, books in the College Library.

During my Madras sojourn, I had frequented the British Council Library, where I had come across quite a few books – for reference only and which could not be taken out – which gave an in depth view of a number of topics.

Along with another batch mate of mine, I went in search of good material on various topics from the Bombay British Council Library in Bombay. It proved to be a treasure trove on quite a number of topics which I was interested in for examination and knowledge purposes. I spent about 6 days there from the time they opened the library to when they closed it in the evening, reading, understanding and taking copious notes. The books involved were mostly reference books and were on topics such as Lubrication (a BP book), Purification (an Alfa Laval book), Fire Fighting Systems (Kidde’s books) and whatever I could find on the topics that were my strength.

These notes, along with the numerous 200 page foolscap notebooks from the ship, formed the core of my preparation.

Armed with information spewing out of my ears, I went for the examination. I had never studied with such fervour my entire life.

Day 1 were the mathematical subjects, one paper in the morning and one paper in the afternoon, 3 hours each, one had to answer 6 out of 9 questions. I did reasonably well in both and expected to obtain at least passing grades.

Day 2 was devoted to EK1 and EK2, 3 hours each, to answer 6 out of 9 questions. EK1 was devoted to Main Engines, Generators and allied subjects. EK2 was on Auxiliary Machinery, Safety and allied subjects.

Of the 9 questions in each paper, 3 or 4 would be on very important aspects of the Main Engine, Generators, Boilers, Safety on board, SOLAS (Safety of Life at Sea) regulations, Bridge to Engine protocols etc. Not choosing to answer them would invite a proper grilling during Orals, as the Surveyor would assume you did not know much about the topic, hence did not answer the question. Answering them wrong would mean not getting even pass marks in that paper. All papers were minefields, with traps laid for the unsuspecting.

Some of the key EK1 questions were about piston rings, cylinder and bearing lubrication, engine performance and fuel pump timing, which were right up my street. Contrary to the norm (which was to elaborate and write essay type answers), I answered all 6 questions using short sentences, more or less like the Power Point presentations of today, with small free hand sketches where needed, rather than a long winded essay type answer.

I used the same mode of answering my EK2 questions. Once again, the key questions were on fire fighting, bunkering and oil transfers and duties as a 2nd Engineer. I answered all to the best of my ability. The post exam discussion in a nearby teashop, had me wondering if I would pass at all, as many a candidate came up with the query of ‘Did you write this for Question No. 2, did you specify this for Question No. 6’. I felt deflated and inadequate and said to myself “pochu” (Tamil for ‘gone’). But a few hours later, after a good meal, I perked up and told myself ‘What is done is done. Let me await the results’.

Staying on in the Hostel, I awaited the results, which came three weeks later. I had passed in the two mathematical subjects, which I would not have to redo. The results of EK1 and EK2 would be known only during the Orals.

Two more weeks of waiting and I was slotted for my Orals. All the candidates would come out after more than an hour, with their heads down. After waiting for the whole day, I was told to come again the next day.

Next morning found me once again clean shaven, ironed clothes, full sleeve shirt and a tie. (Also trousers). Shoes were polished. I had had a short haircut just 3 days before. In those days, long hair was frowned upon by the more conservative MMD Surveyors.

I was the second candidate called that morning. I remember the Surveyor’s name was Mr. Dixit and he had been failing everyone before me.

After walking in, wishing him ‘Good morning, Sir’ and taking my seat, I waited for the questions. I saw him go through my EK1 and EK2 answer papers thoroughly for the next fifteen minutes. Then he asked me one question. ‘What causes a turbocharger to surge’? I had experienced incessant surging on board. This experience and my recollection of what I had read in CC Pounder’s ‘Principles and Practice’ came to the fore and I answered him succinctly and with confidence. A few minutes of, once again, going through my papers he said ‘You have Passed’. I could not believe my ears and only then broke into a cold sweat and said ‘Excuse me Sir, what did you say?’ He once again said ‘You Have Passed’. I just said thank you.

It was then that he told me that my EK papers’ answers were very precise and showed a lot of practical knowledge. He asked me if this was book knowledge or ship board knowledge. I then elaborated on the problems we had faced on the ‘Perumai’ and my voluminous notes taken during the years I was on board. He was interested and wanted to see my notes next morning. (Maybe he thought I was bluffing – I do not know).

Once again, next morning, I met him with 6 of my notebooks, as I could not carry all of them in a bag – I would have needed a suitcase. He was impressed with my preparation and said ‘You deserve to be a Second Engineer. Tell the Clerk to prepare your certificate’.

More than 80 days had passed since I had come to Bombay. The period of a month between my written papers and my Orals were less stressful. I had to continue to stay in Bombay till I received my certificate in my hand.

Having been the only one to pass in a four month period, I was asked by quite a few others about the secret of my success in passing in the first attempt. It was then that my notes became hot property, which was never returned to me. To my utter sorrow, I lost the full set of notes that I had painstakingly compiled, cheated out of possession by somebody who took them and went away to his home.

During the course of staying in Bombay, interacting with others and, finally, doing the exam, I realised that quite a number of others were preparing in the wrong manner. For example, when taking Main Engines as a topic, they were making a detailed study of all engines without having worked on them. They should have concentrated on the engines that they were familiar with and worked on. I advised my close friends to study to their strengths. Also to answer point wise, not essay wise.

It was during the time of waiting for my Orals that I saw the famous Kathak dancer Sitara Devi perform in an auditorium. I was fascinated by her prowess. Another famous dancer who I saw perform live was Samjuktha Panigrahi of Odissi fame. Both Kathak and Odissi were classical dance forms that I did not know about. Thanks to the advertisements in the Times Of India, I was able to pick and choose some cultural activities. Only then did I realise how the South, although rich in culture in its own way, is culturally isolated from other parts of India. I also attended a recital by Lalgudi Jayaraman on the violin, accompanied by Palghat Mani on the mridangam. This was really divine.

My culinary exploration, which had been put on ‘hold’ for the exams, now continued unabated. Lamington Road’s ‘Gasitaram’ was visited for their famous Poori and Shrikand.

Kailash Parbat was another treasure. The samosas, the rabdi, the chaats were all out of this world. Once again, it was my initiation into a different cuisine.

I visited the famed Siddhi Vinayak temple and Mahalakshmi Temple for the first time. It then became a ritual to visit these temples whenever I passed through Bombay in later years, along with all the restaurants that I had liked. Mind you, none were the glitzy or costly types. All the restaurants I mentioned were frequented more by the working middle class rather than the elite.

Having got the certificate in my hand, I returned to Madras and informed SISCO of my readiness to join back. They asked me to wait a month or so.

Having told my Father about my initiation into different cuisines in Bombay, he became eager to acquaint me with some of the places where the best South Indian dishes were served. In his youth he had known every nook and corner of Madras and he had frequented a good many of the restaurants. One by one, we both made a round of quite a number of famous restaurants, where the menu was good and the prices reasonable. Idli with ‘ghetti’ chutney, bisibela baath, basundhi, carrot halwa, different types of dosas with different types of chutneys and, to top it all, places where excellent coffee was served. It was gourmet dining, to say the least. We just walked to the suburban station and took the train either to Harbour Station or Mambalam or other places to reach the restaurant he had in mind. Idyllic gourmet outings. The delight in my Father’s eyes and demeanour was palpable. I am glad that I gave him that pleasure.

We visited Tirupathi and Tiruttani temples.

I was a bachelor then. My Father and I would take the local train from Chromepet, get down at Fort Station, cross the road to the Moffusil Bus Stand and take the first available bus to Tirupathi.

He would have his tiffin and go by bus up the hill and wait for me at the temple tank. I would walk the 14 kilometres up the hill, have a bath in the temple tank and we would both go for 'darshan'.

After worshipping there, we would go to Tiruttani and then back home. This became a routine before I joined any ship.

On the 1st of August 1973 I, once again, was assigned to the ‘Chennai Perumai’, this time as 3rd Engineer.

Rangan

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