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 It was December in 1989 when I first visited the Lakshadweep Islands. As the Vayudoot flight approached the Agatti airstrip, the dark blue Arabian Sea breaking into unearthly hues of blues and green mesmerized me. Being an ardent photographer and a boardsailing buff, the first thought to cross my mind when I visited Lakshadweep was how wonderful it would have been to see colourful sails fluttering across the aquamarine lagoon.
Looking at the map, I even wondered if one could go from one island to another on a windsurfer. On landing, it was disappointing to learn that no windsurfing was taking place on the island.
On my return to Pune, I visited my windsurfing companions for a slide show and suggested an expedition to Lakshadweep. They were all quite excited at the possibility of windsurfing from one island to another. This was nothing revolutionary as a number of board sailors had covered long distances on their sailboard. Some had even gone across the Atlantic! However, our experience at sailing out at sea was non existent. For us 40 nautical miles between islands could be like a climb to the Everest.
 Our team consisted of Parth Amin, Gopal Amin, Deepak Dalal and myself. The next to join us was Umaji Chowgule who insisted on coming along on his yacht. It was certainly a motley combination. At this stage we decided to request Remmy Fernandez from Goa who had enough experience in sailing on sea to join us.
The logistics looked daunting as all the equipment had to be brought from Pune. Moreover, we required assistance out at sea, as our credentials were doubtful. The Lakshadweep administrator came to our rescue and offered to provide a support vessel. To reciprocate his kind gesture, we decided to field a mixed team of board sailors from Pune and the islands. The problem was that no one on the island knew how to windsurf!
The only alternative left was to run a coaching camp for our compatriots from the islands. I wondered if it was the right thing to do at this belated stage. It was July and the expedition was slated for mid-September. If we did not launch in September, we would have to wait till next year, as the winds are most favourable just after the monsoons.
One rain-drenched morning in July, our friends, Shaukat Ali, Basheer and Kunhikoya arrived from Lakshadweep. A crash course was organised for them at the newly opened Khadakvasla Windsurfing Centre. We soon realised our friends were no strangers to wind and surf. Within days they were cruising around the Khadakvasla Lake as if they had been doing it all their lives. Shaukat Ali turned out to be extremely talented and he was doing advanced manoeuvres within a few weeks.
By the beginning of September, we gathered at Kavaratti – the Lakshdweep capital. The first day we familiarized ourselves with the island and unpacked the gear that had arrived from Pune. After checking our boards, we decided to venture outside the lagoon to see what lay ahead of us. Going outside the reef was scary and we were all shaken by the pounding waves breaking upon the reef. The sea is normally in a terribly confused state in the proximity of a reef that acts like a wall to the breaking waves. Our first experience left us wondering if it was a wise decision to leave our cosy homes.
But having arrived so far, we decided to press on. Within a few days we got used to the turbulence and the sea did not look as menacing. Finally arrived the day of reckoning. We were given a ceremonial send off. There was no choice left but to proceed with our misadventure! The wind did not look favourable. However, the journey had to begin as we were tight on schedule. The rescue vessel – Nafisa – had been requisitioned only for five days. As we left the protected water of the Kavaratti lagoon, we all knew that our success would depend entirely on the vagaries of the wind.
A shoal of dolphins escorted us out of the lagoon and an occasional flying fish would jump out of the water, brushing our cheeks. Very soon, the wind decided to play truant and started dying down. The sea, due to its momentum, remained unstable and our progress became tardy. With no wind to propel, the sea took charge of our tiny boards that started oscillating with the swell. Deepak and I decided to drop our sails as some of our friends were about a kilometre behind.
 Within minutes, seasickness hit us like a bolt from the sky. Lying prostrate on my board, I could see the video camera on the rescue boat focussing on my predicament. For the second time in Lakshadweep, the photographer in me visualized an interesting spectacle – unfortunately I happened to be the content of this image. There was no energy left in me to protest. Interestingly, a number of fish had gathered near my board. Had they come to mock at me? In that moment of truth, I realized what it meant to be a fish out of water.
Before the commencement of our trip, we had been quite sceptical about Umaji keeping pace with us on his yacht. In that light breeze, he was having the last laugh with his large sails. Seeing Basheer seasick on his board, Umaji’s crew Mohammad Ali remarked what a shame it was for an islander to feel seasick. He said it a bit too soon and within minutes Mohammad Ali joined the gang. One by one, we lay flat on the steel deck, unable to stir and look for a cooler place. By evening, we made it to Kadmat.
The day was spent at Kadmat recouping our lost energy and rekindling damp spirits. We were desperate to sail our next leg to Bangaram. All night, we prayed for the wind to pick up. When we woke up, our prayers had been more than answered – there was a storm blowing and churning the tranquil waters of the lagoon. The sea beyond the reef looked ferocious. In that weather, even Nafisa could not venture out. Once again, the wind had sabotaged our plans. We decided to use our time by doing some high speed sailing inside the lagoon. After two days, the storm had blown over and the wind had deserted us for the second time. We had no option but to piggyback on board the Nafisa to Bangaram.
Bangaram is perhaps the most beautiful island in Lakshadweep but we were in no mood to celebrate. There was no sign of wind and the water surface looked like a mirror. It was time for the Nafisa to depart and we had no rescue boat left with us. To add salt to our wounds, the wind picked up as soon as the rescue boat departed. We decided to complete the final leg without rescue.
The Bangaram lagoon exit is known for its choppy waters. On that day, there were waves higher than our masts trying to block our exit. We decided to press on regardless. The first to lead was Remmy with all his experience. I was next. There were times when I could not even see Remmy’s mast, as he was enveloped in high waves. Drawing up on our reserves, we all managed to force our way out of the lagoon.
The rest of our sailing was into the wind and turned out to be a slog. The people of Agatti had gathered to give us a rousing welcome. We felt quite sheepish as we had done nothing to deserve the accolades. However, looking at Shaukat, Basheer and Kunhikoya, I felt the effort had not been wasted. We had established life-long friendships and a sense of camaraderie that grows among those who taste the salt on the high seas, when the entire world appears to be disintegrating.
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