Tides - 1

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If you want to witness tides in all their glory, you have to live by the sea...as I did in Vizagh for seven long years (24/365/7) 1958-65.

Although I keep referring to the village Muthukur where I did most of my schooling as a "seaside village", it is a bit hyperbolic. As the crow flies, Bay of Bengal on the charming Coromandel Coast is about 4 km from Muthukur. 

The clues that Muthukur was near the sea were vast expanses of sand (no sand-mafia then) and the moody "land and sea breezes", and the perennial sweat.

When we walked as the crow flew we reached the village Gopalapuram and then the famous Buckingham Canal. And the boatman would row us cross it. Shortly thereafter, nestling among groves of tall palms and casuarina, rose the Konamal Bungalow (we never knew what was Konamal about it). reaching this bungalow we suddenly saw the vast expanse of sparkling Bay of Bengal stretching to the horizon. But there was no beach there...the bungalow was on a tiny hillock and the sea was lapping it. And the few picnickers who dared descend into that sea were often swallowed up by its whirlpools there, sadly.

[All that splendor is gone like the delicious dream of Coleridge's 'Kubla Khan'...Muthukur is now an expensive town...with a giant thermal power station and one of the best ports at Gopalapuram. In 2010 when we wanted to go beyond Gopalapuram, we were not allowed...the port was 'protected area'...all we could see were angry red masts of huge cranes reaching the sky]

On the other hand, every other year, on special occasions like an eclipse, we would visit the sea to bathe in it, via a different route:

We would all get ready early in the morning by 4 AM, have our coffee, and start walking diagonally across rice fields...ladies, gents and kids. And get to our ancestral village Krishnaptnam:

http://gpsastry.blogspot.com/2012/12/a-temple-couple.html

And then on to the Buckingham Canal where boatmen would be waiting for customers wanting to cross it.

A further walk of a few minutes would land us at the foot of series of seven sand dunes one after the other. Each of these dunes was about 10 feet high. And all of us enjoyed walking up and sliding down those seven dunes on to the other side one after the other.

And from the top of the last dune we would suddenly see the Bay of Bengal with a sandy beach of about 50-100 feet (depending on the tides). 

That beach was safe for wading into the sea to about ten feet and dipping our holy heads in the saline water, consummating the ritual bath.

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And then I landed up in Vizagh in 1958 for my university education. We were then living in the posh Maharanipet (which Maharani?).

Our house ('Bhakti Bhavan") lay midway down the top of the Maharanipet hillock (upon which was laid out the King George Hospital) to the Bay of Bengal. Which 'King George'...we never cared to know....some say he was the first British Surveyor there.

A five-minute walk from our home would land us on the beach. The sea was very rough there with huge breakers rolling down the waters they carried right up to our feet on the beach.

From that beach we could see the famous hill, "Dolphin's Nose", with the old red-and-white lighthouse perched on it. The name of the hill was pithy.

Einstein is supposed to have said that his most productive years were when he was employed in such a lonely lighthouse as its youthful operator...no one to disturb but the roar of the sea.

Once in a while, with a friend, I would walk on the beach towards that Dolphin's Nose southwards for a couple of miles. And land up right on the banks of the narrow creek into which the sea flooded inwards to the port. It is through this creek that the rivulet "Narava Gedda" joined her spouse, the Bay of Bengal.

Crossing this creek by a hired boat would bring us to the foot of 'Dolphin's Nose', which was a green hill, with a footpath lined by tall trees on either side. Walking up this path we got to the top of the Nose and its lighthouse. And if we turned back we would see whole of the Vizagh city as a "model township" laid out on the floor, dotted with tiny buildings and thick woods...no concrete jungles then.

The creek formed the site of a natural harbor, the hill 'Dolphin's Nose' jutting into the sea saving its port from cyclones.

But the huge tidal bores rushing into the rivulet caused erosion and destruction.

And the British Engineers who built that port were at a loss what to do. 

And had to summon our (Bharat Ratna) Mokshagundam Visvesvaryya for help. And he came up with this ingenious solution:

"Take two ships, load them full with cement bags up to their tops, and sink them at the mouth of the inlet into the sea."

Those two sunk steamers acted as breakwaters. We could see the masts at their tops.

[I didn't know then that just a decade later I would be living in the "Visvesvarayya Niwas" Faculty Hostel for seven glorious years at IIT KGP (1967-74) and get to read lots of books and make merry with crazy friends]

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To be continued

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