Our lady on the cruise

I arrived at the pier to board the cruise one day too early.

Until recently, I suffered a recurring dream that found me arriving at various venues of departure "" train station, airport, bus stop "" always a few seconds too late.

And I'd stand there, frozen at about 12 years old, tears streaming down my face. Maybe this was my way of over compensating for my peculiar paranoia. I returned to the pier the next day

That I was boarding a cruise, along with other neophyte cruisers, I soon realised, was bound to provide entertainment. "Why are you taking away my whisky," asked a passenger at the boarding counter.

"You can't carry alcohol on board. It will be returned to you when you leave the ship," replied the patient young man. "But how will I drink tonight?" he wailed.

At another boarding counter a man was insisting his passport be stamped. "But Sir, we are only taking you out into the high seas in Indian territory." "Can't you put a company stamp?" he only half-joked.

Climbing on board my thoughts had drifted unfettered towards the tragi-comic final moments of Titanic "" the movie "" turning my knees to jelly. Advertisers should learn a thing or two from the brand recall factor perfected by competent moviemakers.

In the room the safety features channel on television found me with it's repetitive discourse. "We pride ourselves on being one of the safest ships in the world" the voice droned on.

Remarkably though, once you're cut loose from the shores, and the cruise and its contents spring into animated action, the hostile ocean leaves your immediate analysis. The staff, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, assumes their rehearsed roles; entertainers at every corner break into song, and cruise turns into carnival.

The COO of the cruise company tells me that over 70,000 Indians traveled during their maiden season last year and several more board cruises from other Asian ports. Every weekend more and more Indians self-assuredly clamber on to test out unfamiliar waters.

It takes all kinds to make up a cruise. There are the ones who snigger and scoff at the mandatory safety drill, having been dragged away from Happy hours.

Most, to my relief, kept their attention focused on the modus operandi; the ocean does tend to force that deference out of you. Someone raised his hand to ask, "I am a very heavy man, if I fall overboard will you be able to lift me out or will you just give up and let me drown." Okay then...

The hirsute, portly men in the hot tubs use them as vantage points to, you know, look around. The young Malaysian lass dances a jig and motions passengers to give the game of skittles a try.

Around the corner Bugs Bunny pops out to ask if you'd like a photograph with him. It's an orgy of activity from start to finish, and the passengers look delighted.

Most Indians, I believe, love a packed holiday itinerary; restless souls who'd rather be kept amused than entertain themselves. My sweetest moments, meanwhile, were spent lying on a deckchair, the proverbial wind in my hair.

Presumably as the market develops and the initiation ceremony done with, Indian travellers will not, as the organisers hope, want to dismount after exhausting all the activities in one day, opting instead for a few days of doing nothing but laze about.

But until then the Philipina singer will be compelled to sing Daler Mehendi, the deckchairs will go empty, and the food will be a motley combination of Manchurian and Jain fare...

No guesses for which entertainment zone created the most intrigue. The topless dancing bar got several enquiries and I overheard a passenger ask at the enquiry counter "Dancing and anything else?" I was tempted to go along for the amusement, but I was lulled into sleep by the mellow purr of the engine altogether too quickly.