Nausea, Vertigo, Vomiting; Ergo Seasickness

The human ear is a wonderful organ. It allows us to enjoy – music,
the lulling sounds of waves and the soothing pitter patter of rain. On the
downside – ears tend to take the shape of a cauliflower when mistreated (seen
wrestlers?) considerable limiting one’s sex appeal. The blasted piece of
cartilage is also overly convenient for parents/teachers to latch onto when
attempting to discipline errant kids (not in today’s woke times sadly).

Now if you’ve paid attention in school, you will know that
the ear has the cochlea and canals. However, to avoid making this a lecture on
biology, it would suffice to say that ears give us our sense of balance.
Occasionally, the ears like playful kittens, go truant – say when we are on a
ship that is moving with the waves. The ears sense the movement, but the room,
because we move with it, seems steady. This causes a conflict in the inner ear,
which triggers the brain to start sending distressed signals to the body – resulting
in nausea, vertigo and vomiting – seasickness in short.

During out initial training at the National Defence Academy,
we were brought to Mumbai for a ‘feel’ of naval life onboard a ship for 3-4
days. A good percentage of us were going to see the sea for the first time in our
lives and our excitement levels were naturally, high. I distinctly remember all
of us partaking of a heavy breakfast courtesy the excellent cooks on the ship; there
were eggs, sausages, baked beans, cutlets, bacon, bread, and cold coffee. The
chatter over breakfast was all about looking forward to the bracing wind on our
faces, the taste of salt in the air, the gentle roll of the ship as she crested
the waves over the vastness of the Indian Ocean, etc. We were all feeling a
little bit like Magellan as he set forth for distant shores.  The significance of the fact that this was the
month of May when the pre monsoon period makes our seas unpredictable and
maybe, even hostile, was lost in the general excitement.

The ship peeled off from the jetty at 0900 hrs and we headed
out to the open sea. It took us about 30 minutes to move out of the protected and
stable environs of the Mumbai harbour. We chatted animatedly at this novel
experience and posed against the magnificent Mumbai skyline. And with 60 min
already having lapsed since our breakfast, we were also looking forward to our
lunch, which going by the breakfast standards was bound to be good. Little did
we know that fate had ordained otherwise.

At about 0930 hrs, the ship now being clear of the
protective harbour, started moving gently with the waves. This increased the excitement
and animation levels amongst us – for about ten minutes. I guess the ears takes
that long to prove that life is not all song and dance. The gentle movement of
the ship soon morphed into a not so gentle movement, followed shortly again by
some violent bucking and yawing; akin to a particularly antsy camel. The
excitement levels amongst us started falling dramatically and by 0940 hrs most
of us had lost interest in the Mumbai skyline; replaced with a distinct
uneasiness. By 0945 hrs many of us had replaced the look of uneasiness with a decidedly
ghastly one. 0950 hrs saw the first one of us suddenly heave and out came the
eggs, sausages, baked beans, cutlets, bacon, bread, and cold coffee, still not
fully digested.

Now I don’t remember whether it was the effect of the
movement of the ship, or the sight of the still undigested breakfast, but it
set off a chain reaction of competitive upchucking. The entire area where we
had assembled so joyously just a few minutes ago was, by 1015 hrs, a post war
scene from a B Grade movie. Some were doubled up and retching violently. Some others
were holding onto the ‘vomit’ buckets that the ship’s staff had placed so
considerately for us all over the ship, for dear life.

The Navy takes its grub very seriously and a break for
‘stand easy’ (translated as tea/biscuits/sandwiches) was announced at 1030 hrs.
However, for most of us by now, the very sight/thought of ‘food’ was enough to
send us into another paroxysm of retching; diving even deeper into the thoughtfully
provided buckets referred to earlier. The sandwiches looked at us accusingly.

By 1100 hrs most of the wretched souls were quite sure that
death was nigh. Most fervently resolved to forget the Navy and opt for the Army
as soon as, and if by any miracle, we were able to reach the safety of the
shore.  Quite obviously, the lunch
suffered the same fate as the sandwiches.

Thus began our initiation into the Navy. What about me you
ask? Well ordinarily, I was one of those lucky ones who was not overly affected
by seasickness. Or so I thought. It so happened that I was sent on a temporary
attachment to another ship in the middle of August (again mid monsoon) for
about a week’s deployment as a young Lieutenant. Now different ships have
different attitudes towards rough seas. Some roll gently, some not so gently,
some buck, some act skittish, some yaw, some jump – you get it. Well, this ship
was one of those that never believed in half measures, so it went for a
combination of roll, buck, yaw and jump. Resultantly, my stomach started
getting queasy pretty soon. However, by the aid of continuously licking a lemon
(you must try it the next time you feel nauseous) I was able to steel myself
and continue with my duties. Destiney however, manifests itself in many forms.
In my case it took the form of Krishan Kumar.

I was on duty on the ‘bridge’ (the place where the ship is
controlled from) with Krishan Kumar as my assistant. While I, as alluded to
earlier, was feeling a bit queasy, Krishan Kumar had the air of one who has
just eaten a particularly rotten, rotten egg. At an inauspicious moment in
time, I was standing looking out towards the horizon with Krishan Kumar
standing behind me. I suddenly heard a loud gurgling sound and then felt
something wet over my uniform. It turned out that the ‘something wet’ was the entire
contents of Krishan Kumar’s tummy. That really set me off. The rest of the two
hours of my ‘watch’ were spent with me and Krishan Kumar, tenaciously wrestling
over ownership of the single bucket kept on the bridge.   

As expected, I went on a new diet where you eat nothing and
hope for a miracle. Miraculously, survive I did. The Navy tends to feel (as with
any military service), that additional drill or manual labour is the best
antidote for any ailment and is particularly suited for those feeling seasick.
However, from that experience onwards I developed a deep admiration for the
heroism exhibited by the seasick (especially Krishan Kumar), in carrying out
their duties in service of the motherland.

Krishan Kumars of our Navy are easy to spot. Their face
starts resembling a sad puppy a day before the scheduled sailing. Warships
generally prepare for a deployment by announcing ‘action’ about two hours prior
the scheduled time of cast off. These two hours are used to check all systems
onboard. For the Krishan Kumars however, this announcement is an invitation to
find a bucket and latch onto it like one possessed.And what about the feel of the bracing wind on the face and taste of salt in the air?
To hell with Magellan, I say.