Have you ever been
married, whisked away to the other end of the globe and thrust into a
bewildering world of cabins, cargo and engines? No? Well, you should try it.
And see how you feel when you find yourself suddenly on the high seas with not
a shred of land in sight and your stomach is in free fall with a life of its
own – cart wheeling and somersaulting to the manner born- totally oblivious to
the fact that the rest of you is auditioning for the role of the dying duck (read
‘swan’) in the heart breaking ballet rather originally titled ‘Swan Lake’!
Well, that’s exactly
what happened to yours truly. From the lovely, safe, secure and small world of St. Columba’s
School, I found myself, literally overnight (that’s how long the journey took,
dope!), in the bowels of a great big ship, trying desperately to figure out
which way was up. Everywhere I looked, huge metal walls seemed to be looming
threateningly and so tiny was our room (technically called a ‘cabin’) that two
paces either way brought me nose-to-nose with the said affectionate separators.
So much for my boys who thought I was honeymooning romantically in Italy in a
beautiful town called Savona. Savona I was in alright, but what everyone had
failed to tell me/us (read ‘my boys’) was that it is a port and we would be
whisked directly into the stomach of the Leviathan.
Anyways – to cut a long
story short (I refuse to retell the tale of how I thought perfect sailing
weather constituted a storm) – I soon settled down to my world of 8 x 8 feet
and as time passed by I even began venturing outside it. These ‘sallies’ took
me to the bridge, from whence I found I had a bird’s-eye view of our surroundings.
And it was there that I came in for my second heart attack.
Let me give you a little
bit of background, before I proceed to my cardiac arrest:
Ships such as the ones I
was sailing on belong to the international variety where the crew is a motley
one, drawn from all parts of the world. In this case, the Officers were either
of French or Indian extraction, but the crew belonged to the exotic island of
Trinidad and Tobago.
Now when one hears the
lovely, rolling sounds of “Trinidad and Tobago”, visions of sandy beaches,
umbrella topped mock tails and gorgeous sun-tanned people come to mind. So you
can imagine my shock (patience – we have arrived at the said moment you have
been breathlessly waiting for) when I leaned over the railing to find my dearly
beloved quite literally dwarfed by what looked like the surviving gang members
of the reigning criminal community of outer Brooklyn. Honest. The sheer size –
height, width, breadth – et al – of each one of them belonged to the definitive
word ‘gigormous’! Not one of those giants was below six feet tall! 
Now let us assume for a
moment that you are a newly-wed bride who chances to see her equally newly-wed
groom in mortal danger. What would you do? Settle down quietly to your knitting or spring
into action? The latter – right? Well, that’s exactly what I did! I quite
literally let loose a yell – I like to think of it as a feminine cry – and
waved my arms wildly in a shooing gesture that, I hoped, would bring the troops
rallying to the rescue of my partner. Imagine my astonishment then, when,
instead of any gallants rushing in gallantly, I found myself the cynosure of
every single eye on board (including the passing whale lazily swimming by) and
– what was by far worse – every eye had a distinctly disapproving look in it!
It was then that the penny dropped (‘belated’ is my middle name, I am rather
belatedly beginning to realize) and I realized that far from being the ‘mark’
in an attack, my darling husband was merely giving orders to his crew, who were
gathered around him!
Suffice to say I tried
to save the situation, and my dignity, (it is the most frayed asset I own) by
smiling weakly, waving nonchalantly as if I had been merely trying to attract
my spouse’s attention, and smartly disappearing back into the rabbit hole from
which I had sallied forth.
The next day, having
decided that discretion was the better of valour, I chose to walk the path of
wisdom and, rather than turn up on the Bridge and be the object of everyone’s
pity, opted to go on deck for a walk.
And that’s when I once
again plunged into trouble.
No sooner had I set out
on my walk along the main deck of the ship, when I caught a furtive movement
out of the corner of my eye. Spinning to see who/what it was, I found myself
observing one of the crew members who was engrossed in a chore of chipping the
deck. I gazed at him long and hard and my eyes took in the enormous width of
the shoulders, the mahogany colour of the skin and the way in which the huge
hammer in his hand looked like a toy.
Then he looked up.
Now I know you are going
to accuse me of gross exaggeration when you read what I am about to narrate,
but I solemnly swear by all that’s holy that it is the truth and nothing but
the truth. For the face I saw was completely bald and shining, with midnight
gleaming eyes and a scar that ran the length of one cheek. The absolute
humdinger was the open overalls and – you got it – a gold chain glinting in the
sun! I don’t think I have ever been more frightened in my life! 
Strictly speaking
though, there’s a measure of untruth about my last statement – the real fear
truly gripped my soul when I turned around and found the man following me!! No
matter where I went and how I dodged and turned, I could not shake him loose.
Barnacles clinging to the hull of a ship aren’t a patch on the tenacity of the
wretched man. Even my shadow couldn’t have done a better job of staying close!
So – like an intrepid heroine – I was forced to take recourse to the only
possible action open to me – I ran for all I was worth! I ran as if the devil
was at my heels (which, in my opinion he was). I ran as if my life depended on
it (which, in my humble opinion, it did). I ran as if there was no tomorrow
(which, in my twice humble opinion, there was every possibility). In other
words – I ran!
And when I looked
fleetingly over my shoulder, what did I see – the hell hound hot on my heels!
God save us all. That’s when I proceeded to perform my last rites in right
earnest – albeit on the run – and commended my soul to the good Lord. I
fervently begged forgiveness for every last sin I had committed – and even those
I hadn’t (I was leaving no angle uncovered) – and prayed to all the saints in
heaven (and even a few I am quite sure did not belong to the hallowed halls).
When Death is in earnest pursuit, one should leave no stone unturned when it
comes to saving one’s soul.
So there I was – running
for my life with a big, black monster on my heels. Now, have you ever tried
running with your head turned over your shoulder. No? Perhaps you should try
it. I promise you it is a truly invigorating experience. To begin with, one
inevitably comes into contact with every possible contactable item in front of
one. Subsequent to the impact that follows, one discovers just how quickly the
body can bounce off said items and continue as if nothing in the world had
happened. It is only much later, when the adrenaline has stopped pumping, that
one discovers how many colours of the rainbow can be reproduced by ones
normally single-hued outer covering, more commonly known as ‘skin’.
Be that as it may, I was
charging headlong when my worst nightmare came true – I lost my footing and
went flying forward. As my arms wind milled and I struggled valiantly to
prevent myself falling overboard, I found, to my horror, that I was pirouetting
in the most graceful manner possible (how come it happens at that moment and
never one when one actually wants it to?) and heading right back to the one
place in all the world that I did NOT want to be – towards my nemesis!
And that’s when the
impossible happened. Just as I closed my eyes and resigned myself to heading
heavenwards (Why not? Hadn’t I just cleansed my soul?), I felt the gentlest of
hands close around my waist, and I found myself being set down on the deck with
the kindest voice in the world saying, ”Please don’t worry ma’am - I’m here to
take care of you.”
That’s right, folks. I
had done it again. My nightmare had metamorphosed into the gentlest of giants
who, on learning that it was my first time on a ship, had made it his personal
mission to ensure that I did not get hurt or fall down! When am I going to
learn?!
And so it was, that I
learnt another (painful) lesson in humility. I learnt that people care and that
prototypes are often terribly misleading perceptions. I learnt to enjoy the
company of my ship-mates and to revel in the security and affection they
surrounded me with. In fact, I am delighted to narrate that, for once, my story
has a happy ending. For, from then on, my guardian angel also became my best
friend and there wasn’t a mall that we didn’t race our carts down or a port
that we didn’t waltz our way out of!
The best part was – one
look at my terrifying bouncer and - nobody dared protest!
