It probably began when, as a kid, I was reading the adventures of Jim Hawkins aboard the Hispaniola or of Fletcher on the Bounty, Edmund Dantes before he became the Count of Monte Cristo. Or perhaps even Ishmael fighting the God within, and the whale called Moby Dick. With each account, I was progressively smitten by the sea. As a kid it was probably just the sense of adventure, of time to be spent away from the prying eyes of parents, of sneaking out of bed at night, to explore, to hear the clink of gold coins in my pockets, to get lost and find myself.
Later, in my hormonal teens, I heard somewhere that a good way to see the world was as a passenger on a freighter. Pay for passage, and work to earn your meals. Going from one port to another- Rio De Janeiro, New York, Tangiers, Genoa, Naples, Rijeka, Port Said, Port Sudan, Aden, Karachi, Yokohoma, Frisco, Penang, Singapore, Djakarta and Hong Kong… hopping off one ship and waiting for another after I’ve had my fill of the port. Would love to use the line- “Haven’t we met in Odessa?” at some point of time, but for now “Didn’t we meet at Paris?” is probably the best I can manage.
There is something about the sea that plays games with me. At times making me run wild, and at times just ponderous. Thoughts racing or just sinking deep within. Arrows leading to nowhere, or perhaps, the deepest of revelations. No experience in this world comes close to be lying face up on the deck of a ship, late at night, with a clear sky above and infinity all around.
Later, in my hormonal teens, I heard somewhere that a good way to see the world was as a passenger on a freighter. Pay for passage, and work to earn your meals. Going from one port to another- Rio De Janeiro, New York, Tangiers, Genoa, Naples, Rijeka, Port Said, Port Sudan, Aden, Karachi, Yokohoma, Frisco, Penang, Singapore, Djakarta and Hong Kong… hopping off one ship and waiting for another after I’ve had my fill of the port. Would love to use the line- “Haven’t we met in Odessa?” at some point of time, but for now “Didn’t we meet at Paris?” is probably the best I can manage.
There is something about the sea that plays games with me. At times making me run wild, and at times just ponderous. Thoughts racing or just sinking deep within. Arrows leading to nowhere, or perhaps, the deepest of revelations. No experience in this world comes close to be lying face up on the deck of a ship, late at night, with a clear sky above and infinity all around.
And of course nothing can match the seas in its fury either.
But I guess I have made a start. Or am about to. In about twenty days, I join sailing classes in Bombay and set sail from the Gateway. The monsoon is over, and the time I am told, is right. It is an ideal pastime for drifter like me.
In Mark Twain’s words, twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So, throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade wind in your sails.
But I guess I have made a start. Or am about to. In about twenty days, I join sailing classes in Bombay and set sail from the Gateway. The monsoon is over, and the time I am told, is right. It is an ideal pastime for drifter like me.
In Mark Twain’s words, twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So, throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade wind in your sails.
Explore. Dream. Discover.
Seaward Ho!!!
Seaward Ho!!!
3 comments:
Oooo! This makes me want to "get lost to find myself". The excitement of the unknown.
hey..sorry..a little out of context...what's you email id...have been trying to get in touch with you..seem to have the wrong one....
are planning on a update??
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