45 YEARS AND 1 NIGHT

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Sabyasachi Mohanty


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First published in India in 2012 by CinnamonTeal Publishing

Copyright 2012 Sabyasachi Mohanty

ISBN: 9789381542620

Ebook editions also available

This book is a work of fiction. Incidents, names, characters, and places are

products of the authors imagination and used fictitiously. Resemblancesto actual locales or events or persons living or dead is coincidental.

Sabyasachi Mohanty asserts the moral right to be identified as theauthor of the work. All rights reserved. No part of the publication maybe produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form orby any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor beotherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that inwhich it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on

the subsequent purchaser.

Typesetting & Cover Design: CinnamonTeal Publishing

CinnamonTeal Publishing,Plot No 16, Housing Board Colony

Gogol, MargaoGoa 403601 India

www.cinnamonteal.in


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Calmness accompanies the whole. Fear accompanies

the part. Intuition looks beyond the latest object of

my concern to see the stillness of all outcomes

Hugh Prather


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Dear Reader,

I have finally completed my long cherished desire tosuccessfully author a book. This book will soon be out

of my exclusive possession and, God willing, be read by

people other than me. At this stage, I feel an urge to share

some of my thoughts that prod me on to write this book.

When I asked some of my closest friends to read the

manuscript and share their comments, they were keen

to know if the book was drawn from my life. I foreseesimilar questions from others who read it. The book

is not my story. In fact it is far from it. I will rather try

to steer my life away as far as possible from the life of

the chief protagonist here. This book is a work of fiction

and names, places and incidents are merely the product

of my imagination. I could have chosen any industry as

the medium of this book, but that would have demandedsevere effort on my part to understand the same. Hence,

to keep things simple, I chose to write on the maritime

industry-an industry in which I have spent the maximum

period of my professional life.

Through the lead character, I have tried hard delving

into the concepts of success and happiness, though,

without any definitive answer. While writing this book,I disputed with myself the validity and effectiveness of

discovering the right definition of happiness, delinking

myself from the views of others. I am yet to hit upon the

right answer. But one thing I am certain of - The lesser the

ego and arrogance, the easier is it to be happy.

An individual faces numerous conflicts of interest due


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to being a part of various social entities. He is himself an

entity with his own individual interests. He belongs to a

family, works for an organization, belongs to a nation, and

above all, a global humanity. An individuals place within

each entity entrusts him with certain obligations. But he is

simultaneously a part of several entities. More often than

not, the different obligations that he must meet are not in

sync with each other. For instance, the obligations of his

workplace may often intrude into his family obligations.

In another situation, his obligations towards humanitymight affect the obligations he owes to himself. Thus, at

every juncture, its a tight rope walk that an individual is

subjected to.

I will now put an end to expounding my philosophy,

some of which I discovered in the process of writing this

book and allow you to move further. As I have already

mentioned earlier, I am not a professional author. In factthis is my first attempt at writing a book. I will also like

to warn you that I am a typically boring Engineer - cum

-MBA who, like others of this genre, is not gifted with very

high levels of creativity. So I request you to forgive me if

this book is not up to your expectations. I will value your

views and feedback regarding this work. And with this, I

dedicate this book to you.

Cheers

Sabya


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Contents

Restlessness 1

Different shades 8

The song of the sea 13

The journey continues 24

When Mercy went down 39

Sweet memories 47

Path of arrogance 55

Streaks and dots 59

Hope for a new dawn 76

POST SCRIPT...After ten months 82

Acknowledgement 87


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1

Restlessness

...One Night

Until recently I was an avid fan of Darwins philosophyof survival of the fittest. I believed in competingand winning. I knew I was good at both. But I never

wondered about why I desired to compete. What did I wantto win? It took me a complete corporate career to get down toquestion myself on these issues.

It was another of my umpteen visits to Singapore andI had chosen to reside in this particular sea-facing hotel,mainly because there was something appealing about it.Perhaps it was the colour of the rooms or the smell of fresh

lemon everywhere. Or maybe the people who are a part ofthis hotel. I do not know. But unlike other occasions, I wasnot in a situation I would have ideally liked myself to be in.

Trying to get out of the clumsy feeling that wasoverpowering me, I made my way to the balcony of the sea- facing hotel room, hoping to find some comfort. I felt Icould ease myself by moving close to the balcony railing,


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holding it tight and feeling the sea wind blowing againstmy hair and my face. And ask myself why an unimaginable

nightmare was all set to turn into reality. I did not inheritmy fortune and position and I have always taken pride inthis fact. I have worked hard to achieve the fancies of mychildhood and the dreams of my adolescence.

My eyes traced the fading sun slowly setting in the farhorizon and giving way to the darkness to follow. Deep violetwith a streak of saffron, it looked as if the sun had no option

save to just give in helplessly to the darkness engulfing itfully in its stride. As the clock on the mantelpiece tickedloudly breaking the silence of the evening, the sky steadilyevolved into a deep black carpet that spread endlessly acrossspace. It seemed as if this was how it was meant to be. Thedarkness had to set in and so did the silence accompanyingit. The sound of silence seemed to give birth to restlessness

within me. This was akin to the enveloping darknessoutside. Slowly and steadily, I wanted to shut my eyes toit. I wanted to evade it. But alas, I remained unsuccessful.Once again, my heart wished for that single presence, thatsingle sound of her step which could break this silence. Iwish I could experience once again the beauty of that veryfamiliar subtle manner in which Maya entered the room to

the sound of silence. Those were the days when silence wasso very soothing.

And now, the same silence feels so vast and devastating.My eyes wandered outside and a waft of fresh sea breeze

thrust deep down into me like a sharp knife...deeper anddeeper. My lungs seemed to implode and I groped in thedark as I tried reaching the window gasping for fresh air.


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45 Years and 1 Night

Whitish clouds were wrapping the moon outside in thenight sky. The sight seemed so significant today as my life

searched for an answer to the questions that plagued me.I have always believed that ones life is ones own creation.I never failed to take pride in being the sole creator of myown life. Inch by inch, I have created it with my very hands.I have toiled and worked hard to achieve this stature andposition.

In the 25 years of my working life, I never imagined being

faced with a day when my life would come to a standstill,confronting me with questions, challenging my conscience. Themost unpleasant things happen without a reason, unexpectedly.They strike hard when confidence is at its peak. Who wouldhave imagined that things would ever go wrong when I havealways won the race?

It surprises me as I estimate the extent of my thoughts.

Thoughts resemble that mythical sea bird which soared highin the sky beyond the heights that the eyes could focus on. Ithought I could always control my thoughts. They had neverdrifted away without my permission. They have always beenwell - aligned and well - controlled within the levels of myconfidence and belief. But today, they seemed to drift wayinto the darkness along with me.

The sound of the clashing waves has always been the mostpleasant of sounds to my ears. Perhaps, I hoped against hopethat the closeness of the sea would ease my suffocation. Astar-studded sky covering the sea always inspired me. Thoselittle dots of inspiration got me to introspect within. Myrestless mind groped like a blind man into the past and I feltmyself drifting away into space.


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I tried some deep breathing. Whenever, I am not in theright frame of mind, I take recourse to this simple trick, and

take stock of myself. But, the more I tried to breathe, themore choked I felt. This didnt seem to pull me out of myabyss. Swamped in the muddiest waters of my life, I criedaloud to free myself from the suffocation.

I have to survive this long night before I meet Maya. Itis just the matter of a few hours before the stars can handover command to the sun once again. In a few hours Maya

would be here. Neither the twinkling stars, nor the crescentmoon seemed effective enough to dilute the darkness thathas shrouded me and my life. I walked back to lie downagain on my bed, now and then allowing myself to peepout through the glass panes to watch the twinkling stars.Numbness seemed to have crippled my reasoning. While apart of me was weakened by my failure, another part of me

took a walk down the memory lane.Thoughts intertwined with memories of the past always

have an overwhelming effect. The stars were now twinklingbrighter against a darkening background. I tried to estimatethe time but somehow it did not matter. My mind onlywanted to take cognizance of the past, a time that was nomore. I moved closer to the window again and stood there

lifeless. Tiny droplets of water mixed with the sea breezesoftly caressed my face. It was wonderful feeling the moistsea breeze so closely.

My mind travelled back into the past. I was there againin the midst of familiar faces racing up and down the officeaisles. Some carried papers and others hard - bound files.I have always loved that view, that sense of achievement I


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felt watching the hustle - bustle outside my glass cabin as Isipped my coffee.

Just three months ago, mine was one of the mostrespected names in the maritime business. The maritimeconsultancy firm which I had co-founded was amongst thebusiest of its kind. I was considered a successful negotiatorby ship-owners as well as ports, shipyards and maritimeauthorities. My aim was to ensure maximum profitabilityfor my clients in their respective lines of business. I had

done this reasonably well until one fine day I was accused bythe Maritime Authorities in Singapore of wilful misconductwith respect to avoidable and harmful consequences. Insimple words, I was one of the accused in the recent marinepollution incident when the unfortunate oil tanker Mercysank close to the Singapore coastline.

While the maritime authorities, the statutory

organizations and various other claimants race to provetheir case against me, I will have no choice but to remaina silent spectator awaiting the verdict. I have been accusedof wilful misconduct. Wilful misconduct refers to anintentional, conscious or reckless disregard of good andprudent industry practice. I might be proved guilty of acriminal offence in getting Mercy to sail against the

decision of the technical surveyor. According to the technicalsurveyor, Mercy was a 28 - year old single hull tanker withrickety engines and machines that could be rendered non-functional at any moment. Instead of sailing, she shouldhave been scrapped. According to me, the ship would earnUSD 30,000 every day as long as she was chartered to clientsof the ship owner. I had done it so many times before. That


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was my job. That was exactly why I was invited by shipowners from around the globe to prove the seaworthiness of

ships. Once again, I took advantage of the existing loopholesof the system to ensure that the ship was cleared to sail. Iearned my commission from the owners of the ship. Butthis time, the ship did not survive the voyage and sank intothe depths of the ocean, taking the crew down with her. Shewas also responsible for a devastating marine pollution offthe Singapore coast, besides devastating my life as well. Was

she alone responsible? I pondered. I didnt want to know theanswer, or rather, face it.

Perhaps, I am solely responsible for what has happenedto my life. After all, I have always been master of all Isurveyed.

There is a lot of talk in maritime circles about my case,and lot of mud - slinging too. The ship - owners have smartly

transferred the blame onto me. The surveyor said he hadadvised me against the sailing of the ship. There was truthin their accusations. I was culpable but unable to get myselfto accept this reality.

When the news broke three months back, my mail boxwas inundated with messages and e-mails. Some of them readlike condolence messages, others like threats. Some others

sounded like sarcastic remarks made by competitors. Peopleremembered me for different reasons. In the beginning, Ihated those moments because it appeared as if they were allagainst me. I knew I was not above criticism or hatred but Inever expected that it will be a tirade against me some day.It was not only the press and channels, but some very oldcolleagues and friends who openly went against me. These


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were the same people who had showered me with heftypraise and accolades in the past. My confidence in people

ended up in a landfill. Attacks were rampant.It is a terrible thing to accept the ordeals associated withthe process of sliding. The last few days have made me realizethat success never earns you respect. Success alienates. Themails in my mail box have alienated me from myself. As forthe others, I was alienated from them long ago. It is only thatthe realization has dawned now...

It is not just my fears preparing themselves to heartomorrows verdict. I can also sense a deepening guiltshrouding my fears. It is this combined feeling that hasfuelled and propelled the abnormal restlessness within.

Looking out of the window towards the sky, I can see thepatches of broken clouds wrapping the moon, just as fate haswrapped my fortunes and plunged them into a downward

spiral. As my eyes lowered down, I saw the magnificentview of Singapore lighting up bathed in the first rays ofmoonlight.


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Different shades

If the span of human life be taken as a benchmark,twenty five years is no short a time. It is probably morethan half of the most productive professional period of

an individuals life. Layers and layers of events are coatedwithin this life in the form of memories. But, I face nodifficulty in recollecting the chapters which shaped my life

years ago...These chapters seem to have arranged themselves almost

in an immaculate precision, one after another. A subtler lookallows one to appreciate the fact of how bits and pieces mergetogether to create the perfect smoothness that is visible only inhindsight. This smoothness has evolved out of the effects of aseries of connecting and almost coincidental events, which are

instrumental in defining the linkage between the chapters andin guiding the same towards merging borderlines.

Over the last two and a half decades, I have enjoyed acolourful and exciting relationship with my professionalcareer. During this span, I have gradually grown in staturefrom a master mariner to a multinational executive of ashipping company and finally, a global maritime consultant.


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I strongly focussed on identifying and exploring differentchannels targeted towards my definition of success. Every

professional chapter was a snapshot of a desire to unlock mypotential for growth. I tried to regularly reinvent myself tofit into the demands of the business. I picked up the paceswith great pleasure until one day, I was derailed out of therace.

If there is anything in common which creates a senseof bonding amongst all the roles that I essayed, it is the

maritime industry. I loved the sea and I loved ships. Thesea always attracted me right from the very day I set myeyes on it and felt lost in its depths. I loved visiting differentcountries and loved trying new things, meeting new peopleand visiting new lands. I dont remember how old I was thenbut I remember those moments fairly well. I was creatinga ruckus at home and wanted to go out with my father.

We had recently moved in from Assam to Goa. My fatherwas in charge of a fishing company in Goa responsible forsupplying fish to ships. There was an issue with one of thedeliveries and he had to meet the personnel involved to sortthe matter out. He had taken me along on board the shipand that was the first time I saw the sea in its entirety.

Gazing out of the local bus, I exclaimed, Look papa

water...water everywhere. My father had laughed and told methat it was the sea. The endless blue waters were wondrous.A burst of the pleasant sea breeze carried a few dropletsfrom the sea and splashed on my face. For the first time,I sensed the smell of the sea water. The whole experiencewas magical beyond imagination. I remember to this dayhow amazing going aboard the ship was. I remember asking


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my father whether the ship was the same as those papercontraptions he had taught me to make all those years; and

remember the happy nod my father gave me then. It wasdifficult for me to then perceive that the sea could prove sofateful for me some day.

The huge ship anchored to the sea shore lookedmagnificent. I had asked my father Papa, do you work here?On this ship? and my father had said, No, but would youwant to work here some day? See that man there...wearing the

white uniform with a cap on his head...he is the captain of theship...when you grow up you can be one too.

My first experience of the sea and the ship got embeddedwithin me. From that day on, I craved to be on a ship someday. To experience it. To experience manoeuvring thatmagnificent piece of art over the blue waters of the sea. Toexperience the touch of the white uniform and the cap on my

head. Little did I realise that one day my life will be attunedto the frequency of the sea that captured my childhoodheart. Childhood memories are so evanescent. They re-enter without notice. And they vanish within moments. Butevery time they appear, they make adults understand thepower of childhood dreams.

The dreams of childhood were further bolstered with

the practicality of adulthood. I realized quite early in mycareer that success is closely linked with exploring the rightpartnerships with the right people. In sync with my career,different people regularly crossed my path. These werepeople who defined and redefined the journey of my life.Some left dents while others were subtler. Some touched mylife for a very short period, while others accompanied me for


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much longer periods.I learnt from people who preceded me and passed on all

that I learnt to those who followed me...Hold on. It might bewrong to consider what I learnt as learning. I would ratherlike to term them rules- the rules of the game. Or, to bemore precise, games.

I believe in experience. Be it education, jobs, or anything,the bouquet of experience I collected gave me the confidenceto think and act big. But thinking big comes at its own risk.

It is almost impossible to locate a situation when greedand restrain do not cross paths. The bigger one thinks, thefurther one moves away from restraint. I have heard peopletalk about success. I have heard others talk about greed.What comes under the context of success can be defined asgreed to others. From where I am standing now, I have cometo believe that what I used to call success earlier is nothing

less than greed today. The prime reason why I find myselfin this situation is probably because of my greed for success.But, trust me, it is never easy to distinguish between successand greed. There is no distinct line of demarcation. Perhapsonly destiny can distinguish between the two. For the luckyones, the final verdict will be success. For others, it can bedifferent. I took it for granted that destiny would forever

remain an ally. I was wrong.Initially, I raced past my competitors; and then I raced

past my own self. I tried to run too hard. During this process,I met some generous coaches and friends who shared withme the tricks of the trade. I owed them a lot and I still do.I also met others whose tricks of life were not appealingenough to follow. I never thought I owe them as much. Then


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there were others who I thought were not blessed with anytricks to display. I guess I was wrong. It was I who failed to

decipher their tricks.Looking back in retrospect, even years after, I canquite clearly identify those faces. Analyzing the past mightprobably help me derive some much - needed mentalcomfort. It is like taking a peep into the past to understandwho actually shaped me during the course of my life andmore importantly, my professional career.

Its not an easy feeling when hope and guilt simultaneouslyoverwhelm an individual. Guilt and hope have numbed memany times earlier, but they never intertwined themselvesin the manner they have done so cosily now. This is, in fact,getting unbearable; crossing the barriers of tolerance, andchallenging me to question myself again and again.

Why did I do what I did? Is it because of the way I was

brought up or, because my upbringing was influenced by allthose people who had crossed my path sometime or the other?

Am I a person moulded out of a mix that was shaped bythe opinions of all these who crossed my path, and all thosesituations and experiences?


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The song of the sea

There are so many invisible dots that have subtlydefined me and my perceptions of life. Duringthe course of my professional career, I must have

met scores of extremely smart people. The kind of peoplewho had the ability to sell ice to an Eskimo or the kind ofpeople who could talk for fifteen minutes and negotiate a

multimillion dollar deal. There were people who couldbuild companies and others who were policy makers forcountries. Bakshi was not one of them because he had noneof these abilities.

It happened two and a half decades back, but seems justa blink away. As I shut my eyes, I can almost visualise ithappening afresh. I was in my early twenties and on my

first professional assignment. It was my first job. It was therealisation of my childhood dream. It was the moment ofmy life I was so desperately looking forward to.

After a long wait at Mumbai airport, and the turbulenceof Chinese airspace, I finally landed at Incheon Airport in theSouth Korean capital of Seoul. It was my first internationalflight. For the first time I experienced a temperature of -


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15 degrees outside. For the first time ever, I found myselfinside a car that moved at 160 km/hr. I was only twenty one

years old, and I loved every moment of it. I had joined theprofession after graduating from the Maritime Institute.I was to join a mid-size oil tanker as a junior officer. Thecompany which I had joined was a Korean shipping majorwith a fleet of oil tankers and dry cargo ships. I was veryhappy. Every moment was filled with success as I had knownuntil then. Everything I craved for was there an entry

into the glamorous shipping world, a job on the high seas,a salary that made me quite rich for my age and imparteda sense of satisfaction and feeling of freedom. The dream Ihad once dreamt was now real. Every moment was real.

My first colleagues, the ships crew of about twentyone people included a diverse set of people from differentcountries; they were Korean, Japanese, Dutch and Indian.

The Captain, a Dutch gentleman, had assigned me to assistthe chief officer of the ship. A Korean gentleman namedBakshi (the Korean way of addressing Mr. Park), was the chiefofficer of the ship. He was the senior deck officer responsiblefor the loading and discharging of cargo. Bakshi had animmaculate understanding of the ships pipelines and valves.With Bakshi, I commenced on my journey of understanding

the pipelines of one of the mightiest engineering marvelsof mankind. He was in his mid - 40s when I first met him.But there was one thing that intrigued me. At an age whenseafarers were senior Captains, Bakshi remained a ChiefOfficer, that is, the deputy of the Captain.

As a fourth officer, I started assisting Bakshi during thepipe line inspections and the cargo room operations. The


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pipelines were meant for transferring different kind offluids be it cargo, fuel oil or fresh water. The pipelines

were extremely critical and one couldnt afford to make amistake with respect to the pipeline operations. Any leakin the pipelines, if not detected at the correct time, could bedisastrous for the ship. Opening up the wrong valves couldlead to cargo contamination, which could pose real threat tothe safety of the ship.

I remember the attire, which we wore during these

inspections: a white boiler suit that bore the logo of ourCompany, a safety belt and helmet on the head and a pocketof instruments which were imperative for the inspections.Entering within those intricate pipeline systems was anexperience in itself. One had to creep, crawl and twist tosuccessfully complete one round of inspection. And I wasbusy learning the tricks from Bakshi. I thought I loved what

I was doing.One of the traits of a successful deck officer was his level

of fitness. It was a demanding job in terms of physical workinvolved wherein we had to climb the full height of a shipand walk the complete length of a ship dozens of time everyday. Then there were the complicated pipelines and otherobstructions on which we had to crawl and cross. Bakshi,

almost double my age, was fitter than anyone else in theteam. Probably his long career in sea had kept him fit. Attwenty one, I often felt a sense of guilt for not matching thefitness levels of the older man. Often, he found me laggingbehind during the inspections and gently smiled at me toencourage me to match the tempo of our activities.

The initial transition period moved towards conclusion.


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As a response to my sincere learning efforts, I was elevatedto play my role as a third officer after 6 months. Bakshi had

endorsed to the fact that I was now capable of conductingindependent inspections. Though our regular dailyinteractions were now reduced, the bond we shared grewstronger. My interaction with Bakshi continued on and offduring the early days of my career. We met in different shipsduring the course of my sailing career.

With time and experience, the nature of my interactions

with Bakshi changed. It went beyond the tutor-studentformality and evolved into an informal friendship.

You are almost my sons ageI was like you when I was your ageYou like Betty Kims songs? Youngsters dont like it

normally. Its people of my generation who enjoy her songs.Strange...Very strange you like them

What was striking about the accent of Bakshi was thetinge of music in his speech.

Bakshi was not a peoples man. During office hours,he could be traced in the wheel-house understanding thecargo discharge plans or the cargo loading plans. At othertimes, he was busy trying to understand the arrangementof the valves of the pipelines. It was as if he was deriving

some sort of magical pleasure in spending so much timewith the pipelines and the cargo room. Rarely could anyonetrace him talking loudly in a group or party. He loved beingwith the pipelines and the cargo control room with his set ofequipment and machinery, contributing his bit towards thesmooth operations of the ship. Bakshi loved every part of theship. It was as if he could perceive some form of life within


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them. And possibly this sense of connection made him loveevery equipment, every machine of the ship. Bakshi was

often considered the trouble - shooter of the ship. Be it hisrole in manoeuvring the ship in harsh weather or gettingsome serious defect repaired, we knew what Bakshi wascapable of.

I still recollect an incident which made all of us, presenton board, raise a silent toast of admiration to Bakshi.During that voyage I was a second officer, a rank below

Bakshi in ship parlance. It was a foggy February morning inthe port of Zhejiang in China for our dry cargo ship whichwas to load coal at Zhejiang. We were given a time frameof two weeks to complete loading activities by the vesselcharterers. A two week period was the norm for a ship ofthat size for similar cargo. But it had so happened that oneof the ships main cranes showed some problems during the

loading process. The loading could not be accomplishedwithout the crane operating. This was no minor issue.First, it was not easy to find out why the crane had failedand secondly, there were no technicians available to visit theship and urgently repair the crane. The earliest we could geta technician from Shanghai was after a week. The ChineseNew Year celebrations had slowed down all activities. Both

the ship owners and charterers were pressurising the shipto find a way out of the situation. Collective losses faced bythe owners and charterers were measured at about a milliondollars per day. This was quite an amount twenty years ago.In fact, it is a colossal amount even today!

It was a difficult situation. All of us deck officers,including Bakshi, were at the railings of this mighty marine


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crane which refused to accept any orders from its operator.Each one of us tried tinkering with various parts of the crane

hoping against hope for some miracle to have it move. Wekept trying for the entire day but by dusk, we had acceptedit to be a hopeless task. Resigned to the situation, we movedback to our respective cabins. I remember how gloomy thedining hall was that evening. The captain was depressed andthe chief engineer tense. The deck officers and engineerspreferred maintaining a grave, solemn silence. None of us

realised that one of us had not joined us for dinner...Onlyafter completing dinner and whilst proceeding to my cabindid I notice some activity around the crane. It suddenlystruck me that Bakshi was still under the crane.

On that chilly February evening, when the entire crewwas busy trying to find their comfort under the sheets,Bakshi was struggling to communicate with the stubborn

crane. I jumped out of bed and rushed down the stairwaysto help Bakshi. When I reached midship and was close to thecrane, Bakshi noticed me and waved at me. I reciprocatedby waving my hand. I sawBakshi working diligently at thewiring of the crane motor. There were wires of four differentcolours that needed to be worked upon. Proceeding mostcautiously, Bakshi was working at getting some connections

done. I had no choice but to wait and watch. I decided towalk back to my cabin and gather some sleep for a toughday that would follow. That night, until sleep crept over me,I kept looking out through the glass panes of my cabin andadmiring Bakshis dedication. I did not remember when Ihad fallen asleep but on waking up, I realised that I had myhead riveted in the same position as last night - to look out


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at the crane through the glass panes in my cabin. What I sawwas unbelievable, in fact, almost magical. The crane boom

was moving as the crane operator adjusted the joysticks.As I leaned further, I sawBakshi. He was standing on thedeck guiding the crane operator with the crane...Such wasBakshi.

Bakshi was not the only one of his kind. I sailed in differentships and came across people of different nationalities. Theywere different from one another save for one common link.

They enjoyed being seafarers. I remember Nagotosan fromJapan, Rosino Ferera from Sri Lanka, Edwardo from Braziland many others. Nagotosan was a second officer when Iwas the third officer on probably my fourth voyage. He hada strange habit. He used to carry his violin to the monkeyisland of the ship and used to play violin for hours together,completely immersing himself in its rhythm. Rosino was a

third officer when I was a second officer. Rosino was like ajunior Bakshi. His love for pipelines, manoeuvring, cargosystems and engines was just remarkable. He used to spendhours with the machines and pipelines humming folk tunesfrom Sri Lanka just as Bakshi used to hum Betty Kimssongs while he scanned the pipelines. Edwardo had joinedas a fourth officer when I was a chief officer. Edwardo was

attached to me for training just as I was attached to Bakshiseven years ago for my initial training. Edwardo was anamazing cook. He used to treat the entire crew with thevarieties of Brazilian barbeque which he so caringly cookedonce a week.

Life was as beautiful as it could be with the ships. Veryfew things could match the pleasure of sailing on a ship


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when the sea was good. The reflection of the evening skyin the sea, the sea gulls escorting the ship, the enigmatic

acoustic variations from the machineries as the ship sailedmajestically, the waveforms-everything was so enchanting.And, there were people who formed a close bond with eachother. I was charmed by all these. I was charmed with thesea and the distant lands we visited. Every day was a new dayin a new location.

I vividly remember one of my voyages as a third officer. I

was sailing in the freezing North Sea in an oil tanker in themonth of January. It is always a spellbinding experience if

you sail North Sea in the winters. North Sea is never kindand takes immense satisfaction in being at its ruthless bestin winter. Rolling can easily touch the 35 degree mark whenthe ship is in ballast; when mixed with pitching, it canmake life really uncomfortable. Even the most seasoned of

sailors finds it tough sailing the North Sea in winter. Thecomplete span of this trip was more than two months. Theweather was almost uniformly chilly. But one day, the sunrose and the sea was not as rough. I decided to move to thebridge wings and saw the most panoramic view ever - therays of the sun were playing with the shimmering waves,some rare species of sea fish were jumping high into the air,

huge colorful sea birds were flying not very far from ourship against a colorful horizon. I still recall the day whichenlightened me to the beauty of natures creation. Thiswas an image of the Divinity that made me believe in theunfathomable Absolute.

Eight long years passed by and I was elevated to take overas the Captain of an oil tanker. I was twenty eight when I


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took command of my ship. I was proud to wear the whiteuniform with the cap. It was what my father had made me

dream of in my childhood.My maiden assignment as Captain was followed byone ship after another under my control. One voyage afteranother on the high seas. But somewhere within me I wasbeginning to drift. As I continued at sea, I realized that myinitial enthusiasm with my job had waned. I felt incompleteand dissatisfied. This was probably because my role began

and ended with each ship I commanded. Each voyage was arepeat of the previous. My role never allowed me to stretchbeyond controlling a ship. For instance, I knew nothingabout the commercial aspects ruling the ships. Nor couldI understand why ship owners behaved the way they did.Probably, I was too inquisitive. I wanted to step into thefinancial decision-making process of the maritime industry.

Gradually the initial excitement of understanding theship and admiring the sea started subsiding. The whiteuniform with a cap was no more a source of pride.

I was overwhelmed with a strong desire to understandcommercial shipping. I wanted to take bigger commercialdecisions, and decide on which ships to buy and sell, andwhich markets to explore and which to let go. Every time I

saw people from the head office visit the ship, I longed to belike them. I wanted to have the power to decide the fate of aship and not be limited to controlling her during a voyage.

This was also the time when I saw some of my friendsmoving into corporate shipping and climbing up thehierarchy into top positions. I craved for more. My restiveheart now decided to look out for opportunities away from


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the sea. And life presented exactly the opportunity I waslooking for.

Two and a half decades later I understand that I was inreality craving to don the arrogance of corporate hierarchy.Its all about business and its all about money. Ships are justa medium to earn this money. They are no objects of meremagnificence and beauty.

Years after, looking out at the night sky studded with thestars, I feel a terrible, momentary longing to move back to

the days when I used to sail. To meet people like Bakshi,Nagotosan, Edwardo, Rosino and many others whose namesslowly get refreshed in my memory.

I did not even consider remaining in touch with Bakshiafter I quit sailing. It is peculiar that years after, when I amdevastated, I am longing to meet him. Probably because,Bakshi was the simplest man I ever met. Besides, in spite of

he being my first professional mentor, I could never trulyappreciate his simplicity. Bakshi built the foundation onwhich rose the edifice of my professional career. Withouthim, I now realize, I would not have been successful inunderstanding ships so well.

I used this foundation to kickstart my career and buildmy future.

Did Bakshi never feel like exploring the vastness beyond?Was he not ambitious enough or did he genuinely love whathe did to the extent that he never thought of exploring anyother career options during the course of his long careeras a chief officer. Possibly he just loved ships, the way theyare. How he continued doing that for decades is somethingwhich I could never fathom.


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What would have happened if I had continued in my firstjob? Just like Bakshi. I had laughed at him then. Subconsciously

within me, I had branded him as a failure in life. Years after,I wonder whether I would have been happier today had Iremained a sailor. With steel and machines to play with andcolleagues like Bakshi in a ship, my life could not have beensimpler. Today, I am of the same age as Bakshi was when I had

first met him in sailing out of the port of Busan in South Korea.He was a simple man who desired a simple life. He did not

even want to become a Captain. He only wanted to spend timethe way he loved. Some people have such an amazing controlover their lives that they define it in a manner too simple forcomplex - minded persons like me to understand. I realizetoday as I think of Bakshi - Life is never meant to be complex.It can be very simple indeed, provided we choose to let it be so.

Once again, I could see Bakshis tall self, standing right

in front of me smiling his fatherly smile, simple at heart. Hissmile always reflected the simplicity of his being genuine. Asense of contentment. And today, I could see him standingthere and smiling at me just as he had always done. Mymobile phone rang aloud breaking through the silence.

It was Maya. She was at Mumbai airport waiting to boarda flight for Singapore.


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4

The journey continues

Ican clearly remember the day I quit sailing. Some ofmy ex-colleagues had gathered to bid me farewell andwish me luck. Bakshi was also present. While wishing

me luck in my new venture, Bakshi had told me Wish youluck as you pursue your dreams in the corporate jungle. Hopelife remains simple. I had never understood the gravity of

his statement then. I was this dreamy eyed boy who hadaccomplished his wild dreams of sailing and was all set toembark on his next voyage to explore higher dreams. Mynew dream was to take bigger decisions in the context of anorganization. With that dream, I had applied for a suitable

job to various shipping firms.A reputed Norwegian shipping company selected me to

be part of their international business development team inSingapore. My role involved fixing the companys ships tovarious oil majors for the transfer of oil and oil products,and in the process, build the top line of the company. Withina few months after my initial orientation in Singapore, I wasdeputed to West Africa.

West Africa, I was told, was the land of future business


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opportunities and considering the strategic importance ofthe continent for global business, I must take advantage of

the situation and prove myself there.This was fifteen years ago. Huge oil reserves had justbeen discovered off the Atlantic coast of West Africa. Oiland Gas exploration activities had crossed the nascent phasewith Nigeria and Angola found to have reserves enough toupset the dynamics of global oil trade. Congo and Gabonwere also expected to have adequate oil reserves. Numerous

companies and individuals had evinced interest in the newdevelopments. My company did not want to miss the firstmover advantage and was amongst the earliest organisationsto have opened an office in the region. One of its smartestprofessionals, another Indian named Mr. Yash Narayananwas in charge of the African SBU (the short form of StrategicBusiness Unit, as we used to call it) as Country Manager.

With our African corporate office based out of Cape Townin South Africa, we had easy mobility to almost all the oilrich countries of West Africa. The major hubs of operationwere in Nigeria, Angola, Congo and Gabon.

Those early days of my corporate career are still so freshin my memory. I had arrived in Cape Town to assist Yash.The company had provided me with an apartment in one

of the localities where a lot of foreigners lived. Though Ihad recently married, I had decided not to bring my wifeMaya to Africa. Safety was one issue and secondly, my jobcontract entitled me to a months leave for every two monthsof stay in West Africa. This allowed Maya to continue in herchosen profession and at the same time allowed us a monthof quality time for every two months of separation. We had


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convinced ourselves that this was the best solution.Yash stayed close by and when I visited his apartment a

few days after, I realized how small my apartment was. Yashloved to live life king-size. Yash was one of the interviewerswhen I was interviewed for selection by the company. I hadmet him for the first time during that interview in Singapore.I was unable to identify any means by which I could connectwith him. There was humility in his voice, and arrogance inhis tone. He had the ability to come close one instant and

distance himself in the very next. It was difficult to decipherhim, especially for someone like me who had only spent adecade in the industry until then. Yash was about fifteen

years senior to me in the corporate ladder. And until thelast time I met him a few months ago, this man remainedas undecipherable as ever. Of course, he is now retired fromactive corporate life.

Yash believed in precision and measurement. Hisattire, his conversations, his very being everything abouthim happened to be well measured. It was as if someoneresiding within him contemplated a thousand times beforedelivering any word out of him. Yet the immaculate flowof sentences from him demanded a very attentive listenerto grasp the essence of his speech. He was flawlessly clear

and religiously logical. To be honest, I am yet to discoversomeone as no-nonsensical and matter of fact as Yashwas. He was undoubtedly a born marketeer and a naturalsalesman. He was the kind of person who could successfullysell ice cubes to an eskimo in Iceland and profit out of it.But unlike many successful marketeers, he was an astuteinvestor with a strong understanding of finance. This mix


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of talents was what made him the perfect businessman.Yash believed in a very simple concept. As long as the

end brought happiness and satisfaction to all stakeholders,it was worth pursuing. The means did not matter much. Thenot-so-white means could be easily overlooked if collectivesuccess was achieved in the end, and brought smiles to allthe stakeholders of the organization.

I worked with Yash for almost half a decade and that wasthe time which probably infused in me all the traits that

were indispensable to thrive in a corporate setup. It wasundoubtedly a phase of transformation for me. It laid thefoundation for all future material successes that life couldoffer me in my role of a corporate executive. I was gladto have someone like Yash as my mentor. Yet, I often feltconfused and could not satisfactorily convince myself aboutthe ethical propriety of the means we followed.

In spite of hailing from India where stark inequalitiesdivide different strata of the population, West Africa left medeeply disturbed. At the individual level, the experience ofliving a life of luxury in a continent where people struggledfor their very existence, left me unsettled. And these peoplewere the natives of the land, the real owners of West Africa.At the business level, I witnessed the tremendous profits

foreign companies garnered from oil exploration, productionand transfer. In spite of being terribly poor, these countrieswere extremely rich in oil.

While I felt terribly sad within seeing the plight of thenatives here, a fresh excitement invigorated me when it cameto business. At the company level, it was no secret that theWest African SBU had the highest profit margins amongst


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all the other SBUs of the company. Yash had ensured that astrong market entry was associated with a rich bottomline

for the profit and loss statement. The time was just apt toadd more business, or, in other words, bring in more shipsunder the purview of the said SBU to increase its size. Yashhad managed to bring in only 4 of the companys fleet ofabout 75 ships into West Africa in the last two years afterhe was entrusted with its responsibility. Bringing in 4 shipswithin two years of operations and running them profitably

was no mean achievement. But Yash wanted more.More ships in West Africa, more revenues and more profits.

That was the first time I learnt about the concept of more inthe corporate context. I learnt that the sky is the limit

I continually battled my own self as I found it difficultto accept certain norms that characterized our dealings inWest Africa. It was a clash of basic ideals. Until then, I had

always questioned the ethicality of offering gifts to manageclients and win business.

What is actually a gift in the corporate setup? Is it a giftthat a friend offers to another so that he can take advantageof the inefficiencies of the market? Or is it the means to achievesomething that will be beneficial to the organization one works

for?

But every time I handed a gift to achieve something,my conscience deprived me of my sense of achievement.However, as taught by Yash, I told myself, I am here to dobusiness. I am here to win contracts. I am here to enhance mytop line and bottom line and create value for my stakeholders.I am clear in my objectives. Initially, I found it hard to abideby this philosophy, but practicality did not offer any better


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alternatives.And at the end of the day, what is ethics? If gifting

something to a friend to gain an advantage over competitorsis wrong, then how do you endorse the other routes which aredevised to build relationships between client and vendor?

Until today, I am unable to fix reasonable boundaries towhat people like to call ethics. And that is precisely why I findmyself in the situation I am in.

I still remember the instant when I offered my first gift

to an official of the Nigerian government. That was a majorturning point in my career. I had seen my seniors doing thison a regular basis over the years...Yet, I had fumbled badlywhen I offered the gifts after the business lunch in a hotelin the Nigerian capital of Lagos. The departing handshakeleft me awkward. But that was how I won my first individualdeal. It was worth a million US Dollars in business for my

organization. Moreover, the prospect of getting repeatorders increased manifold after this. I now knew how towin deals.

We always have the choice of a different path to moveaway from the difficulties of our current state. In the eventthat we dont exercise this choice, does that mean that our netsubconscious satisfaction level is positive? Somewhere within,

we feel satisfied. Somewhere within, we are happy with theway things are moving.

Yash was absolutely immaculate in every art of WestAfrican business culture. What Yash achieved only thesmartest could. The means he employed to achieve them onlythe greediest could. I distinctly remember the complicationsI had faced in those early days in West Africa.


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Soon, I started accompanying Yash on his businessdevelopment initiatives to different countries. In spite of the

fact that civil wars had stopped, there was a risk attached ineach of these countries. Intermittent acts of violence couldemerge anytime in Nigeria while Angola was known forhidden landmines. Countries like Gabon and Congo wererelatively safer. Yash knew exactly what precautions to takewhile visiting the respective countries. We had local agentsassisting us whenever we visited Nigeria. Angola was safe

as long as we did not venture into unknown regions. Wecould manage on our own when we visited countries likeCongo and Gabon. I was just beginning to understand thismysterious Continent which the world had once identifiedas the Dark Continent.

This was the time when I was expected to take over all thebusiness development activities from Yash so that he could

give more time to other strategic activities. This was alsothe time when I was fighting a strong ethical debate withmy own self. Doing business in Africa had its own nuancesthat ruled the game.

But then as Yash used to sayIts the end which is importantand not the means and the end in our context is to create value

for all the stakeholders.

I remember once trying to argue with Yash over theconcept of ethics. Yash was a perfectionist. No one arguedwith him. Everything was either black or white. Therewere no grey areas; no middle path. He had no time forexplanations. But years later, after his retirement he hadonce confessed, Yes my boy. It did stop me. But I didnt.He always addressed us as boys. When I bluntly asked him,


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You mean you never felt you were doing injustice to anyone.He had donned his usual smile and said My boy! Injustice?

To whom? Never did injustice to my organization and to thehundreds of people it employed who could have otherwise goneunemployed. Clients also got business from us at cheaper rates.

And as for rivals, if I would have done them justice they wouldhave done injustice to me and my company.So somewherewithin him he had found a genuine reason. And genuine itwas.

One of the most interesting aspects of the corporate worldis that it gets one to disown ones much - adored principles inlife. Every time, I welcomed a fresh batch of employees intothe organization, I loved spending some time promoting myconcepts of ethics to them. Ethics, I would stress, happento be the foundations on which rest the pillars of successfulbusiness. Alike my seniors, I would keep the definition of

ethics as open - ended as possible. I had been left free tofix my parameters of ethics as I had progressed. I allowedthe same freedom to those who followed me. I sometimeswondered why I stood preaching the concepts of ethics thatI rarely ever practised. It was probably because the mentor Iadmired most - Yash - had done the same.

I re-discovered myself in those early days of my

corporate career, or perhaps, re-invented myself as neverbefore, metamorphosing into an individual stripped of anyideology.

Soon, I had no problems with what I was doing. Inever had any formal business education. As a self taughtprofessional, I was impressed with the concept of freeprice mechanism. It was so magical that if I had pursued


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an academic career, I would have been a strong advocateof this theory. However, in real life, I practised the exact

opposite professionally. I always tried my best to block afree market wherever possible. I reckoned it to be the bestmeans to kill weak competition which, if left uncrushed,could create a problem in me pushing ahead. Co-existingwas never easy. Compromise was the basis of co-existence.And I did not want to compromise as business never thrivedon compromises.

But now I wonder, what if I had not offered that first giftto clinch my first deal in Nigeria? Probably I wouldnt havewon my first contract and got my first crucial promotion oreven the subsequent contracts and promotions that markedmy career graph. Probably, I would not have found myself inthe corner office so early in life charting routes to enhancevalue for all our stakeholders. Investors loved our companys

shares and employees loved working here because they werepaid well. The company got the day zero slot in businessschool campuses to get the crme de la crme of talent. IfI had not offered my first gift, would all these still behappening?

As I moved ahead, I learnt one of the most subtle aspects ofcorporate life. I learnt to manipulate my exterior appearance

so as to hide the bouquet of emotions deep inside. It meantgiving my warmest smile notwithstanding the demands ofmy heart; learning when to speak and when to maintainsilence. As shrewd businessmen say, learn to control youremotions. Mastering these techniques marks the beginningof a successful career. I had learnt this well. I could holdmyself back from a deep desire for introspection.


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I also learnt the tricks of successful communication.Communication is more than conveying our thoughts and

understanding of an issue to another person. It can be assilent as a nod, it can be as warm as a hug, and it can be assweet as a smile. It can be anything that gives us a chance toconnect with another person and vice versa. Communicationis not a uni-directional flow. It is about understanding andbeing understood. But I learnt how important a tool it canbe.

Yash had mastered the skills of flawless communication.He would always assess the other person before he spokeand uttered only what that person could connect with. Thisensured that he always had his way as smoothly as possible.

It definitely takes a lifetime to understand the tricks ofcommunication and study the psyche of the opposite person.And the sooner one masters this skill, the faster one rises up

the corporate ladder.Whenever, I think of Yash, I cannot but help thinking of

business in all its colours. During the entire course of mycareer I have admired Yash not for the means he followedbut for the ends he achieved. Still, as I think of Yash, I cannotbut help question the conventional definitions of honestyand respect.

Thinking back about somebody with whom one has spenta reasonable chunk of time professionally evokes a feeling ofnostalgia. If that person happens to have been a boss, a guideand a friend, this sense of nostalgia can further evolve intosomething far deeper.

Working closely with Yash and learning from him theart of lateral thinking as well as the conventional wisdom of


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business was a dream opportunity for a novice aspiring toreach the stars. I started considering myself extremely lucky.

I learnt from him what he respected religiously. I almostfollowed the same trajectory which he had carved out inhis life. In many ways, my corporate career took the sameturns and bends as his. Gradually, I transformed myself intoa firm believer of ends and life was never the same again. Iworked under the tutelage of Yash until he moved out ofWest Africa to become a part of the top management in the

Norwegian head office. Though our regular interactionsbecame limited, we remained in touch with each other.Since I idolized Yash and considered him my inspirationearly on in my corporate career, my learning mirrored hismethods and processes.

From where I am today, I have this tremendous desire toknow if time had had any impact on this man. Did Yash ever

feel a sense of discomfort while offering gifts? Did his heartalways endorse and approve of what he actually did? Did heever feel the way I am feeling now? I know he was lucky, I amnot. At this stage of life, as a retired professional from an activecorporate career, I am sure he will not mind speaking his heartout. But more than anything else, there is a fear lurking withinme. Did I make a mistake in identifying my means and ends

correctly? Was it wrong on my part to accept the definition ofends and means as defined by Yash?.

oo

By the time I was summoned back from West Africato join the head office in Norway, the size of the SBU had


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increased to 12 ships, an annual revenue of about USD100 million and a very handsome bottomline. In other

words, the West African SBU accounted for about 20%of the Companys revenues and there were reasonableopportunities for further enhancement of revenues. I wasrated amongst the star performers of the Company and washence asked to join the management team at the corporatehead office. For a reason I could not fathom, the move did notleave me particularly happy...Perhaps, I was deeply attached

to the unit that I had helped successfully build. Probably, Ifelt possessive about it, or else, looked upon myself as thecreator of the West African SBU.

In hindsight, I now realize that I feared losing my freedom.Although moving to the corporate office was associated withhigher responsibilities and monetary rewards, I possiblyfeared that regular board room discussions would rob me of

the freedom to take quick decisions at the ground level.I remember the day when my exit formalities from West

Africa were complete. One Norwegian gentleman namedMike was to take over the responsibilities of West Africafrom me. Over the last couple of months, I had devotedenough time and energy to ensure a smooth transition.

We had visited all the West African countries together,

met all our regular clients and agents who mattered inour business. I ensured that Mike was conversant with thecountry - specific and client - specific cultural issues andthe means of doing business, that I learnt from Yash eight

years ago.Bidding goodbye to Africa, I decided to move on. Norway

was a much more comfortable place where I could relocate


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with my family. I was sure that my wife and daughter wouldhave no issues to move along with me now. It was a positive

development in my personal life. Finally, there would be nomore two - months work and one month holiday to catchup with my family. I arrived in Oslo at the peak of winterin the month of January. The temperature was well belowthe sub-zero level. I was to join the company as President- Corporate Affairs, a role extremely critical for the overallhealth of the organization.

However, things did not turn out as beautiful as theyhad seemed from afar. Though, the quality of life was farmore comfortable than it was in West Africa, I came acrossseveral problems. It was not feasible to shift my family fromShimla to Oslo. Maya had recently resigned her teachers joband was in the process of starting an NGO. My daughter,Asmi had just completed her primary schooling and Maya

wanted her to continue in Shimla. I was disappointed.But I ensured that I was granted a weeks leave for every

month of service. The two month-one month schedule wasnow replaced with a one month-one week schedule. As lifewent on, the loneliness in my personal life overshadowed theexcitement in my professional career, and left me dejectedand forlorn.

My professional life was complicated and involveddealing with the highest level of global corporate affairs.Yash had retired from the company and relocated to India.Things were not as easy as they had been in West Africa.I was perhaps not too comfortable attuning myself to thecultural sensitivities of Scandinavian life. There was nopleasure in winning contracts, and ornamenting the P&L


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statement. The higher pay and respect had been at the costof my own freedom and decision making powers.

Heading corporate affairs was a completely differentball game. Boardroom arguments and lack of a fastmoving professional decision making process was not veryappealing.

A different breed of professionals now held sway here.There was this class of people whose typical traits hadirritated me in the past but impressed me with time. Come

what may, these individuals easily swam through their dailyrituals without anything affecting their exterior calm. Theiremotions held no correlation with the judgment of theircritics. They were happy creatures with limited capabilityto empathize with lesser mortals. They were well versedwith the rules of mortal success, and occupied the highestechelons of the Company.

Unfortunately, I could not exactly classify myself asamong them. Neither could I fit into this category in spiteof my best efforts.

During this period of frustration, I received a mail fromone of my old acquaintances Capt. Vladimir. We had shareda few common ships between us as sailors many years ago.After a successful corporate career, Capt Vladimir was

about to embark on an entrepreneurial venture in maritimeconsultancy, He wanted to know if I would like to join himas a partner.

Capt. Vladimir was the kind of person who couldget new dishes added in the menu card of a restaurant byhis charms. Blessed with what psychologists like to callperceptive intelligence, Capt Vladimir could easily gauge


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45 YEARS AND 1 NIGHT