When 3 black barges were towed ashore

[1]

Way back in 1976, as a monsoon typhoon battered the Arabian Sea, three massive black barges drifted towards the coast near Ponnani.

The coastal folk, in the dark violent weather, mistook them for warships and panicked.

The black monsters were Italian commercial barges; their identity deduced from the unique number and the name of the port painted in white. The Ports Director, Capt P.K.R. Nair, ordered that the vessels be seized and towed to Beypore port.

Like in the Enrica Lexie episode, armed officials of the Ports, Navy and Customs boarded the barges, only to be shamed by their ravaged and empty innards.

The severe storm had blown the rudderless vessels some 2,500 km south, towards the north Kerala coast. In between, the crew had got off on small tow boats and floatation devices.

The vessels were bound for Italy from Singapore. Once the vessels were under the custody of the Ports, a diplomatic and legal row broke out. T

he Emergency dispensation under Indira Gandhi, following a request from the Italian government, wanted the vessels released.

The port director insisted on collecting ‘salvage charges’ before the release. The company that owned the vessels filed a case in the HC, which ruled in the state’s favour. The vessels were released after the Italian company paid a salvage charge of Rs 25 lakh. Captain Nair was given a reward of Rs 35,000 for “leadership and integrity”.

DC shutterbug reminisces about the barges in Beypore

At first, the three black vessels frightened us. Their arrival was shrouded in mystery. Some said they had war weapons, others said, smuggled goods. In 1976, Beypore was a small port. The largest vessels we had seen were the wooden ones that took goods and people to Lakshadweep.

These were of iron! We were frightened to go near the vessels. We got up the terrace of a godown near the wharf of the Chaliyar where the three were anchored. They remained there for at least 3 months.

Gradually the mystique waned and we began angling from its rusty edges. When we came to know that the barges were departing, it felt sad. Because the large flat barges had by then turned into our playground. (DC’s chief photographer P. Peethambaran was 17 then)