Messing about in Indian Boats. - By Robin Pascall
himself up with a pleasant laugh. 'In or out of 'em, it doesn't
matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it.
Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your
destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never
get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in
particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to
do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not. Look
here! If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing
we drop down the river together, and have a long day of it?'
-The Wind in the Willows ~ Kenneth Ghrame
The Pink haze of twilight approaches, alongside Kainakary rice plantation. The house boat Kivikimihb our home for the next three days lays presently alongside the coconut, banana palm laced inlet where a warm sub tropic breeze brings calm even to cluttered minds and tired mussels. Birds fly in formation low to the water as stray dogs play among the coconut spit.
Earlier the calm was pierced as the ships planks cracked while the beak of the bow or another retired rice boat [converted house boat] turned battering ram piercing in true T-Bone fashion the midships window, exploding the upper housework structure as the operator of the other failed to yield or alter or adhere to Rule 2a of the International Collision Regulations which state clearly that every vessel shall do whatsoever it take to avoid a collision. Our patient Master exchanged words of foreign tongue with the offending vessel who by the expression and gesticulation of their members considered that no fowl had occurred on their part. Plausible, if one were to ignore the lavish house-work window that, together with its frame had blown entirely out of the bulwarks that it once married. No one was killed and it was difficult to say whether the fault lay with the vessel underway, or the vessel pivoting at the dock on a spring line such as to impede the waterway and come fast on her starboard side for the following departure. Little of this mattered as the would be offending vessel was now gone down the river not to be seen again.
What could really go wrong? We have a Captain, a Cook, an Engineer, a whole heap of fire extinguishers that look like they came from the cold war, a case of beer and a bottle of rum and we have barely completed our first day of this aquatic adventure. Birds, crickets, or possibly frogs chirp as the vessel slowly sways serenely in her mooring lines. The quiet roar of a diesel generator can be heard as we await the cooks meal in this fantastical location where I imagine the scenery has not changed in hundreds of years. Palm tree laced wetland rice fields, a paradise for some. One of those rare nooks of this earth, that still supports the LTE wireless network for it is 2018.
The collision occurred as we were making the dock for an excursion to the bird sanctuary. A picturesque hike for the five of us, baby included minus the birds which transit only in the early hours of the morning. The guards took our rupees and set us free on the tour. We saw no birds, but I took a lot of pictures of the fauna and had a great hike.
Two Tuk Tuk's later including a pit stop at the government liquor store where we were given VIP access to the warehouse ahead of the cue of the locals because they could smell our rupees and knew they would be most comfortable in their cash drawer. We made it back to the now slightly battered yet majestic house boat with bamboo lattice canopy, and continued to laze as our skilled crew pressed on.
A first class dinner as pictured, some catching up with my dear friend of over 25 years and off to our air conditioned cabin for bed.
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