Hi Fred,
This article is a sequel to the previous two. Could you please post it on
goanet. Thank you. Please ignore the one I sent earlier, as it had a couple
of errors.
FROM AN EYE OF AN EAGLE Part Three
The summer was at its peak. There was no respite in the heat. This is usual
during the last days of May in our tropical Goa. Everyone looks forward to
the rains latest by the first week of June. Finally after a lot of
speculation by weather men and various predictions by the local folks at
this time of year about the uncertainty of the most talked about topic
regarding the start of the rainy season, gusty winds, thunder and lightening
heralded the onset of monsoon in a grand fashion. It seemed that nature had
made its own decision and shown its prowess. It had unleashed its fury and
wrath. Relentless heavy downpours continued for a week bringing about a
deluge.
We had been left indoors for quite a while. A brief let-up brought some
relief while enormous clouds still passed overhead. We were recovering from
the tempest that really let us have it. Today the skies seemed pleasant and
bright after a week of dark, dull and rainy days. So, my two younger
siblings and I took off to survey our beautiful land as we frequently do.
Taking off from our aerie in the northern district in the highlands of our
scenic homeland we swiftly and instinctively formed our favourite
V-formation. This time it was my kid-sibling in command, and I volunteered
to wing the left flank as flight superintendent.
Flying south-west at lat.13o36N, long.65o57E over the northern mountains
we passed over the massive blue pylons of the cable-stayed bridge that was
still intact and visible from a long distance. It seemed that the waters
from the recent torrent flowing underneath had not posed any danger yet!
Banking slightly to our right we decided to head straight towards the coast
for a brief assessment of the area. The general impression we got was that
everything was placid, cool and tranquil down below. But somehow our
assumption was incorrect. In fact the rivers over-flowed. The fields were
completely inundated.
Soaring just below the rain clouds we gently swept southwards as soon as we
hit the coastal hills. Keeping a steady leisurely speed of 20 kph we swept
low along the seashore. The cool south-westerly wind pushed and brushed our
right wings. Not a major turbulence or disturbance; nothing that we couldnt
handle. Unruffled, with a gentle trim here, a minor adjustment there, mere
natural instinct and wits, coordination and expert navigation as usual, we
set ourselves precisely on the right flight path.
We were astonished to see that this vast stretch pristine beach from Chor
Bhaim at Baga to Chimu Bhaim at Sinquerim was almost deserted. A few
boats braved the seas down below and further to our right giant cargo
vessels seemed to be standing still. And then suddenly we saw what we had
not expected to find. It came as a terrible and rude shock as we shuddered
in our wings. We had presumed that the great River Princess had left the
area by now. How sad and heartbreaking to witness this sight! IFFI came and
went, and so did the thousand of tourists, but she was still there
languishing like a helpless princess in distress. We were terribly
distraught to see that she was still very much in the area, entrenched in a
sandy beach of world-wide fame. We were tormented to see that the furious
waves lashing at the sides of the now legendary and world-famous River
Princess for a long time now. We believe much has been said about
re-floating it. An entire squad of politicians has been unsuccessful in
proving their mettle in putting the princess out of her misery for the last
five years. My Papaeagle was right! He had predicted this failure. He would
definitely be grieved to hear the news when I got home.
While trying to regain our composure from this abrupt shock we almost flew
right into the massive and towering first lighthouse in Asia at Fort
Aguada. Thanks to the timely warning radioed by our captain. Shortly
thereafter we gradually banked left, eastward over the Mandovi river that
seemed to be in a mighty rage and haste. Looking down and towards our right
we thought we were lost for a few seconds. We thought we were flying over
Venice. Then to our utter amazement we were saddened in quickly realizing
that it was our very own city of IFFI fame, Panjim. It was then immediately
clear to us that those flooded streets were the aftermath of a hurried
misadventure and an engineering feat that had gone terribly wrong. My little
kid sibling however seemed quite amused at the sight and confusion down
below.
As we flew further east, our radio and weather specialist manning the right
wing advised that it was time for us to head home. Huge rain-bearing clouds
on our backs from the west appeared to chase us. In a fleeting moment I
looked towards the rear and realized the clouds were right behind us, almost
on our tail. And without much ado in unison and under full throttle we
headed home.
Tony Fernandes
