Navy sailors at the dockyard in Mumbai where INS Sindhurakshak submarine caught fire and sank after an explosion on August 14. (AFP)
Believe it or not, names like INS Sindhurakshak, Sindhukirti, Shankush were part of my childhood lexicon. As the son of a submariner, you are supposed to know your Foxtrot class from Kilo class submarines. My father was part of the commissioning crew of one of India's submarines. The customary photograph of a huge black deck above water dotted with Navy personnel in white uniforms standing on the deck is the photograph I grew up with. I would take great pride in what my father did even if secretly I thought it was a bloody dangerous job.
As a child, I thought these vessels were magical. How can a ship that sinks come back up onto the surface again and then sink to the bottom again, I would wonder. My father would try to explain how a submarine sucks up water and sinks to the ground and then releases that water to come back up on the surface. I would nod pretending that I have understood this, but I don't think I have quite grasped it to this day.
But the science wasn't as important as the thought that my father was in one of these big black whales sailing somewhere deep under water. I would pepper him with questions like - could he see fish from inside a submarine or what the sea bed looked like. He had often reassured me - describing the experience as a lot of fun. "It's like being in an aquarium," he would say.
When I was older and visited a submarine myself - I really began to see his job in a new light. Small beds, wires everywhere, low light and no windows. Sailing in a submarine is obviously not the regular 9 to 5 - but this was extreme. It was all very exciting too as a young boy and I would ask him to narrate stories from his journeys. He would always very skilfully tell us the exciting bits and of course everything that was even vaguely a national security detail was never mentioned.
And then, I recall the time he would go sailing - weeks sometimes months on duty. As kids we would be prepared for this and thought it as routine - we grew up watching dad go away - completely and totally oblivious of the risks involved. Not at all the story my mother recalls. To this day she remembers how anxious she was when dad would go sailing. She laughs now but on days she knew he was going to be above ground, she would sleep a little bit more calmly. The days spent watching the calendar trying to guess where he is, were interrupted by that one phone call from dad to say everything was OK. If it came a day or two later than expected, she would worry. To her, when the submarine was docked in a harbour - even if she didn't know which one - it meant everything was fine - a "safe" day.
And while I work in news now and hear of tragedies all the time, I find it easy to empathise with families of the crew who were killed on board that submarine (INS Sindhurakshak). That family could have been my family. (We still don't know how many died). But what makes it even more sad for me is that this happened when the submarine was docked in the Naval Dockyard. It happened on a "safe" day.
(Read - INS Sindhurakshak tragedy: 4 bodies found, DNA tests needed to identify them)Disclaimer: The opinions expressed within this blog are the personal opinions of the author. NDTV is not responsible for the accuracy, completeness, suitability, or validity of any information on this blog. All information is provided on an as-is basis. The information, facts or opinions appearing on the blog do not reflect the views of NDTV and NDTV does not assume any responsibility or liability for the same.