For Those Thirty Three Mariners

A Post with one foot in 2016 and Morning Pages and another firmly placed in the present and resolutely stepping forward towards The Book!

The Pages Threaten And the threat is real!!! The book asks me “Am I about to be swallowed up into oblivion? Are you about to tell me that you decided to integrate me into The Pages?” No no no dear beloved BOOK! You come first. I owe you big time. I owe it to those 33 mariners to bring their voices out into the universe in joyful symphony, not unlike the New Years’ Eve midnight foghorn symphony of my growing years. Perhaps the last I heard them properly was 1974 or ‘ 75? Does that mean those years signaled the demise of our beautiful port? Calcutta port was one of the first things I read about in the Geography class. I was studying the subject for the first time and what a portal that was, to connect me through and open me to the wide world!

A glimpse of a ship sailing towards Haldia Port

In a sense the wide world came sailing upriver to us, in a day and age when the Hooghly was navigable. Rivers of Fortune – the project, was inspired by that sailing upriver three and a half centuries ago. It made me think of the boats that had plied long before the first ocean worthy vessel made its way up and dropped anchor among strangers. Is there a record of the first ship that made it up the Hooghly? The first foreign ship? The first European ship? And all those ships from maritime civilizations nearer us that existed way before and engaged with us over millennia? Did they come up that river? Which way did its course run in that other day and age - I wonder ... I have to thank that geography lesson in 1966, the Calcutta Port Commissioners’ Exhibition in 1970 and from way , way before all that, those blessed foghorns. The music of those foghorns was my wake up call, mid-slumber. I would lie awake and listen. Mom would nudge me “do you want to hear something wonderful? Wake up little one!” And we would listen. I would be in awe, a little afraid. I was a tiny bit afraid of still, mysterious water, especially at night. We spent many evenings by the Hooghly near Man-of-War Jetty which is now out of bounds. The river front vastly changed after work started on the new bridge. And with the bridge now becoming an almost clichéd emblem of this city, the focus has shifted to Prinsep Ghat. Though most people don’t know how to spell the poor dude’s name correctly!

Today recreation is so contrived. As contrived as it was spontaneous back in the day. I remember in 1978 before the last nail was driven in the coffin, and a whole zone was cordoned off for the bridge project, how we once drove to a stretch of river that was a kind of no man’s land. It was in the vicinity of Marine House. Does anyone even drive through those areas anymore? We parked ourselves very close to the river on a stretch of grass and enjoyed a nocturnal picnic of puris and alu sabzi and the most delicious karamcha chutney. The simpler we lived, the happier.
Some years earlier I would have this sense of fear at a particular spot on Strand road where the river water flowed under the road to reach the Fort William moat. While walking along the strand there was a spot I would quickly skirt around where I could see the mysterious water through gaps in the concrete at my feet. That kind of water through narrow gaps always gave me a creepy feeling. I would peek in and look away. I could never quite still that fear. Once while visiting my cousin’s ship we looked out at another ship anchored really close and I peered at the narrow gap in between with the dock water flowing through. I was warned not to fall into that for there was no way I could be fished out.And then I had to listen to all those tales of dock workers who slipped and fell to their doom. And deep inside me, I connected with every one of those mariners lost at sea.
But why am I going to those places now in '18? Because it is every one of those deep connections that charted the route – consciously and subconsciously – to the 33 young mariners-in-the-making in Maine, who are the centerpiece of this book-in-the-making. And these "pages" (the Morning Pages are anyway a tale of two years ago) are only a way to keep me focused on the book and help me bring it to life. The plan is that every day’s posts will build a bridge to a chapter of the book. At least to its structure and intent.
I need to adapt my daily writings on this space, in ways that will drive my long term purpose. Which means while some of my writing could be random stream-of-consciousness and ideally meant only for my eyes, others more thoughtful will be out here both as fuel for, and as a log to keep readers abreast of, A Night's Tale.
To the fog horn then and to the maritime connection. And may all the mariners of the world have safe voyages, forever!