Last Saturday we went whale watching. Under idyllic circumstances it would have been an experience to remember, with us drinking beer on the yacht, taking snaps of the gentle hump back whales and porpoises and enjoying bonhomie with the fellow watchers.
Well, we did share a sense of camaraderie with the fellow passengers- throwing up! As the boat, a catamaran perhaps, left the harbor the captain was quick to announce that the ocean was a bit rough and the journey was sure to be bouncy.
The waves surged up to about four feet and tilted the boat upto thirty degrees. Aayan was the first person on the boat to feel nauseous despite having a anti-nausea pill.
He clambered onto my lap and stayed there for over an hour. He kept muttering the word “Hurting’ each time the yacht rolled against a wave.
I picked Aayan up and decided to walk way back towards the end of the cabin where I was told we wouldn’t feel the bounce that much. I lost my balance a number of times and made my way through the seats apologizing profusely till I reached the end where they where they served food and drinks.
There was a ledge on which I made Aayan sit and stared out into the ocean through the nearby windows.
I could feel his little stomach contracted and felt helpless. There wasn’t much that I could do except try my best to comfort him.
The people who had been standing outside on the deck could no longer brave the chilly winds and decided to get back into the cabin.
As we rolled out of the harbor, the captain’s voice droned on about a Deer island that no longer was a island. Why? Something about the last hurricane causing water to recede and beaches were formed. I couldn’t make out the logic behind the two statements and was sure I missed some major chuck of the explanation between the muttered ‘hurting’ and my own stomach doing the wobble.
We were leaving Boston and heading into the deep cold Atlantic Ocean and I wanted out!
Fuck the whales, fuck the once in a lifetime experience; my kid was dry heaving and I was about spill my McDonald Egg Muffin.
The Boston quarantine area that had turned into a moonshine area then into a hotel area passed us by and we were out of the harbor.
Five minutes later Aaman approached us with a sleeping Parita. She looked like an angel completely unaware of the uncomfortable looks and vibes that the passengers were silently feeling.
It was contagious. Slowly I saw people beginning to move to the back. Queues were formed outside the one and only restroom and the queue rolled and those standing in the line nearly fell. People grabbed each other trying to maintain their balance and smiled sheepishly in apology.
I heard the sound of a woman retching and felt my stomach heave. It was too much. I asked Aaman to exchange kids and loosed Aayan’s grip on my neck. As we exchanged kids Parita woke up and began to look around.
Obviously, things were not going to be easy for either of us. Aaman took Aayan forward and I stayed at the back with Parita and watched Boston disappear further and further as we went searching for whales.
Soon Parita also began to whimper and my heart sank. No way! Not her too.
I patted her back and tried to talk to her but the yacht had picked up speed and it rolled, swayed in all kinds of directions that I had never thought that the laws of physics would allow. I grabbed her tight and moved forward to look for Aaman.
It was a tough walk and I nearly fell back on the lap of a lady who was kind enough to grab my bottom before it slammed on her lap and propelled me up. I blushed and she laughed away my apology.
I couldn’t find Aaman and Aayan in the cabin and ventured out. The freezing winds and the surf hit us hard and I covered Parita’s head with the hood of her jacket.
Both father and son looked green around the gills. Aaman was trying to distract Aayan but wasn’t getting too far. I couldn’t go up to them without banging into people so went back in.
And just as I entered the cabin I heard retching sounds. An Indian lady grabbed a dustbin right in front of me and threw up. I saw the yellow contents splatter into the plastic covered bin and my stomach rolled and every bit of that egg muffin and orange juice fought to spill out but I pushed it all down, grabbed my baby hard against my chest and headed again to the back of the boat.
I was clearly in watery hell
But it was worse at the back. People were holding their stomachs, sounds of retching in the loo and cold wind from the back door was sweeping in and to make matters worse Parita was having a royal meltdown.
There, clearly was no way out and no whales were at sight.
The captain’s voice spoke through the Intercom and informed us that they were looking for the whales and in case they couldn’t find the whales then we would be given vouchers for next time.
Voucher? He could shove them up his (censored) and feed himself to the ( censored). These were my kind thoughts towards the captain.
Half an hour later and after many collapsed, retching casualties later the captain announced that the whales were visible on the right side of the boat.
Those with iron clad stomachs were quick to step out and the rest stayed in. I moved towards the deck again and saw kids sprawled out on their seats moaning. Two Japanese were retching delicately into the bags (they are feminine even when they retch!! It was a marvel to see them turn retching into an art form). Despite my condition I found them to be rather amusing.
However on reaching the front of the cabin I saw Aaman and Aayan sitting inside and moaning. They were both holding their stomachs and heaving. There was no way that I could help them as Parita choose that moment to throw up on my jacket.
As I watched the milk drip down my favorite Prague coat the captain spoke about the humpback whale eating krill right next to our yacht with an open mouth. Its flippers and tail could be seen. It was nature in action. Yup, and I was in a wild mood too, I wanted to kill the Captain and get a harpoon and murder each and every fucking whale. Moby was having fun but I was drowning in my daughter’s puke.
I sat opposite father and son and felt my stomach make its final threat. It was finally coming up. I lunged forward and parked Parita and headed towards the back of the cabin. On the way out of the cabin I grabbed a couple of ‘puke’ bags and sat down at the open end of the yacht.
My stomach eased as I breathed fresh air. A lady asked for the extra puke bag, and then a guy asked me for my second puke bag. I wanted to tell them to get their own but their desperate eyes and trembling fingers made me hold my tongue and I silently passed on the bags.
The puke didn’t come. One of the crew members had been watching me with eagle eyes as I was bending over the rail trying to throw up. He was quite a hottie to look at. Grey eyes, dimpled cheeks and a perpetual smile lit his face and I hated him for seeing me at my worst.
He asked me if I was fine. I nodded and went back into the cabin. I was in no mood to thank him for his thoughtfulness. I hadn’t thrown up, couldn’t see the whales and the scene that greeted me when I finally managed to reach my family appalled me.
Aayan had thrown up over the seat, Aaman was holding him, trying not to retch and Parita was crying as Aaman was holding her in an awkward position.
I grabbed Parita and sat down with so much force thanks to the dip that the yacht took that my breakfast finally decided to part with me and I threw up in the same dustbin as that Indian lady had.
The juice was first to go, followed by my food. I could hear my own retching voice sound terrible to my ears. Retching in public!! That was the first for me.
Look at the whales. Oh! Look dolphins. Retching, retching ….god when would it stop!!
But it did stop and when I surfaced to clean my face with baby wipes I found myself staring at a whale from the cabin’s window. I couldn’t believe it. There I was, miserable as ever, with no way of being able to see any whales from my vantage point as people were crowding over the railings and yet I was given the chance to see a whale for a whole minute.
I saw it eating fish within its smooth jaws. Then it slid and dived into the waters. Its smooth, black back was shiny and beautiful and the tail did a little inward bend as it smoothly delved within the depths.
Despite the fact that I had not been able to see the whale’s face, the experience left me awestruck. I had finally seen the whale. I tried to stand up despite my wobbly legs and stared outside the window.
There were whales all around us. The yacht had slowed down and was rolling with the waves.. My stomach was hurting like never before, my intestines were twisting, cursing me and yet I couldn’t stop myself from staring out.
The whales were magnificent but after a while my body decided to do a complete shut down and I sat down.
I looked around and saw about twenty people in the same plight. All washed out and agonized. But we were the worst as we were retching as a family and no one in their right mind, obviously, came to help us.
And soon I wanted it all to end. I wanted to go back to my hotel room. I wanted to feel the stable ground under my feet. A lady patted me on the shoulder and told me that the captain had agreed to head back. She had gone up and told him that there were kids throwing up and it wasn’t right to hang around. And he had agreed.
I couldn’t believe my ears. Could people really be that kind?
And sure enough, we were told that we would be heading back. People clapped and gave us sympathetic smiles and thumbs up. We smiled back weakly , I even managed to smile at a couple of ladies who had been eating right from the minute the yacht had left the harbor and despite all the retching sounds.
The return trip wasn’t bad. The yacht sailed at a steady pace. Aaman and Aayan had gone to sleep, Parita kept crying but I was past caring. The cabin had become some what chilly, people were trembling, hugging each other and staring into the horizon looking for the harbor and a strange familiar feeling had pervaded amongst us. We all had suffered together.
On reaching dry land we all smiled at each other and joked about having a Whale OF A TIME
And by the way, we couldn’t take any photographs being sick and all.
Paul Hipp's little poem - 
