Do I really need a life jacket?” It’s hot and an extra layer of clothing doesn’t feel like a great idea.
My friend, Saravanan Veerappan, smiles and assures me that I will not fall into the water, it’s just a precaution. I hold my breath and strap my life vest in place: I’m ready to go sailing.
As I stand at the edge of the still water, where the boats are docked and look at the lascar rigging the boat, Saravanan explains the mechanism behind the sport. The main sail, which is a sheet of fibre, catches the wind and pushes the boat in one direction. The keel, which keeps the boat from capsizing, pushes it in the opposite direction. The combination of both these forces helps the boat move forward.
A sailor at the Royal Madras Yacht Club, Saravanan only sails during the weekend. His seven-year-old daughter Hana Sala, however, competes in national regattas and sails more often.
Her boat, the Optimist, comprising only the main sail and the rudder, is designed for children up to the age of 15. I bump into Hana’s 10-year-old friend, Sanjay Jayachandran, who is bustling about, preparing his own Optimist to take out to sea.
“The first time I sailed, I rammed into the jetty and the lascar had to come help me,” says Sanjay after having sailed his own boat for half-a-year now.
I feel empowered, having met a 10-year-old who sails his own little boat. Then I remember that I still can’t balance a cycle long enough to ride it and promptly pop two pills meant to prevent sea sickness, just to be prepared for the worst.
First, I get on the sea-bird, a seven-seater boat that’s meant for pleasure sailing. My preconceived notions make me look for the wheel and a pipe-smoking sailor to take control of it. Instead, a rather jovial-looking pilot, Captain Vivek Shanbhag, takes the helm and the main sail while Saravanan takes over the jib, which is the second sail.
We slowly make our way out of the harbour and there’s a slight land breeze that cruises past us. We see other sailors out with their boats and I’m told that a lot of the people who sail the same waters have gone on to win medals in the Asian Games.
The captain yells “gybe” and everyone in the boat ducks as the sail moves past us to the other side.
“It’s called a boom because you hit your head on it very often,” jokes Saravanan, referring to the rod under the sail that everyone is trying to avoid. As the boat gybes, we change course and head back to the jetty, so that we can move to a different boat.
This time, I get on the J-80: a bigger, sleeker, more modern and decidedly more expensive boat. Three men take a good 15 minutes just to put up the main sail. “A single person can rig a boat but sailing typically needs two people,” says Ashish Mehta, part-owner of the J-80, as he takes the helm.
We catch the same wind this time, but the sail is larger and the boat, lighter, so we cruise much faster. The boats, ships and tankers lining the horizon disappear as I move away from the outer harbour and into open sea.
Suddenly, there’s only water and sky as far as my eye can see. As the water gets rougher, the ride gets more exciting and the sea breeze makes the boat move much faster.
Long conversations about sailing, involving graphic descriptions of sea sickness had me concerned and made me choose my lunch with care. As I sit on the bow, looking out at the expanse of water, I wonder what I was so worried about. With the sea breeze blowing through my hair and the rough sea crashing against my dangling feet, I feel my heart soar. It’s the loveliest feeling and when I see a school of fish jumping, I squeal in delight.
Consumed by my own excitement, I merrily forget the sailors who brought me out. I turn around to look at them and the scene that greets me is one right out of a Hollywood film — five men out at sea, lounging in a sleek boat, laughing and having a relaxing afternoon.
The combination of rough seas and winds makes Chennai one of the ideal places for the sport, says Amit Kalra.
We reach the jetty just as the sky turns colour and our tummies begin to rumble. I stumble out of the boat, with my pants plastered to me and my hair full of knots. As I dream of warm clothes and hot food, I also hope for many more afternoons surrounded by the sea and wind.
