16 Months in Antarctica

The first Indian woman to set foot on this isolated desert continent, Dr Kanwal Vilku found that she not only had to endure two extreme winters here, but also the hostility of the 49 men she had travelled with

All put together, I had little more than 24 hours to prepare for my 16 months in Antarctica, though I had filled in my application months ago. A circular had come around one day in the CGHS (Central Government Health Services) office in New Delhi, calling for applications for a medical officer to accompany the 19th Indian expedition to Antarctica in 1999. Strangely, they hadn’t specified age or gender, so I had filled in the forms. It was wishful thinking, really. I was 51 then, and a woman. What chance could I have had?

A call came from the Department of Ocean Development (in the Ministry of Science and Technology) one morn­ing, and I was summoned to the office. I learnt I was to leave the next day. I didn’t even have my passport ready, but by late evening, the Health Minister had got it arranged: it was a special white diplomatic passport. I was curi­ous to see what the visa for Antarctica looked like, but there was only a visa for South Africa. We were to fly to Cape Town, and then a special ice-cutter ship would transport us to Maitri, the Indian station in Antarctica.

My husband and kids in Chandigarh were shopping frantically for me then. By the time I reached the city for a fare­well dinner, they had packed every­thing for me, including special snow clothes. I made one addition: a sari.

I flew to Bombay, and joined the oth­er members of the expedition. And I found that everyone but me had been in training for their time in Antarctica. There were 50 of us, 26 for the sum­mer camp, and 24, including me, for the long haul of 16 months. I found I was the only woman in the team, not to mention the eldest. The next in age was more than 10 years younger. As for the clothes, my kids needn’t have bothered. Each of us was issued complete snow gear, from gloves to shoes.

It was near the end of winter then. The summer team would return after four months, while we would spend two winters and one summer over our 16 months. The summer lot had mostly scientists, whereas the 16-month team was made up mostly of Army officers and some scientists like glaciologists and geologists. The ice-cutter ship took almost 15 days to get to Antarctica. From there, there were helicopters to take us to Maitri.

The station had two kinds of accom­modation, one for the summer team and the other for those on the long haul. These were pre-fab structures, made of special fibre, and the shelters were created by drilling into the ice. The summer camp had research and office space on the ground floor, and a cramped sleeping area above. An adult can only crawl into that kind of space. Our structure had small rooms for each of us; we could at least stand straight in them. There was no bathroom, but the team agreed to build one for me. I stayed on the ship for the first 21 days till the bathroom was ready.

This was strictly a ‘bath’ room, though. We had one common toilet, es­sentially a room with a hole. There was no system of flushing. All the shit and piss would collect in a container, and every day, one person had to take it out and burn it. The ashes would then be collected in a drum to be taken back on the return ship. By the Antarctic treaty, you cannot leave any waste be­hind. We used to take turns at the chore. This was the most horrible part of the 16 months in Antarctica. Now, I hear the Indian Government has grant­ed funds for building a living facility with proper toilets at a new base sta­tion called Bharati, so you don’t have to shit atop a pile of old shit and later take the heap out to burn. I think it’s probably because Kapil Sibal didn’t en­joy his toilet routine when he visited Antarctica recently.

All of us Indians would bathe eve­ry day, even in the winter when tem­peratures could fall to -600 to -700 centi­grade. It didn’t really make that much of a difference because summer tem­peratures would be around -150 centi­grade. Our Russian neighbours, in con­trast, wouldn’t bathe in months. We could smell them from a distance.

I had a really tough time in the initial months because all the men had a big problem with my presence. They were resentful that they could not drink in peace. I didn’t have a problem with their drinking, but the team leader had sent a notice saying that everyone had to watch their behaviour since ‘a lady’ was present. That was uncomfortable, because the men made it clear that I was eroding their freedom. They made pointed remarks about my age and lack of experience in missions like this. I was told that there was no way I would last the entire 16 months, and my tick­et to fly home had been booked 13 months earlier. But that was when I re­alised that I would be the first woman from South Asia to stay in Antarctica for a prolonged period, if I survived the duration of the expedition. I already knew I was the first woman from India to set foot on Antarctica. That made me determined; I would not let them snatch my chance at making history from me. I got in touch with the Health Minister and told him that I was keen to stay the entire period, and that I was being pressured to leave. That probably made matters even more awkward.

Things changed considerably once I started cooking. In fact, the men sof­tened visibly. I was really nervous the first day I cooked. I couldn’t sleep the night before. I was a good cook, but I made regular food at home. When you are a doctor and a wife and a mother, there is no time for elaborate fare. Here, I had a point to prove. I had looked up recipes, and surveyed the food in stock. Besides, cooking for 24 people is an­other matter altogether, particular­ly without any help. I ensured I served hot chapattis and parathas, asking eve­ryone personally whether they wanted more. By the time I was done, my feet had swollen from standing for so long. But there was still the washing up to do, and taking the reading of the gener­ator, not to mention burning the shit. The system was that two people would do all the chores in the facility on a ro­tational basis. There wasn’t a moment to rest while you were on duty till you retired to your room at 9 pm.

But they liked my food so much that I was frequently asked to cook. Before long, I was designated to cook eve­ry Sunday. I tried out a variety of rec­ipes, and I filled register after register with recipes. I grew in confidence. But it used to make me sad too—that I was cooking with such great care for my team members, but had never made this effort for my family. Perhaps it was irrational to think that way. But I missed my family so much, especially in the early months when everyone re­sented me. We were each allotted only six minutes of talk time per month over the common phone. We could receive calls for as long as we wanted, though. There were internet facilities too, but I wasn’t very comfortable with email then. In the winter months, the communication systems usually conked off. It would be months before they could be restored. Then we were basically isolated in the facility. Once a month, a person would go to the nearest base with letters typed out and email them to the recipients we stated.

Winter, with six months of darkness, was depressing. Everybody was affected. I missed my family terribly, I longed for a familiar face or voice. But I forced myself to be cheerful, because I felt that as the doctor there, I was responsible for their mental health too. I was also a little wary—in case they clamoured to book my ticket back home again.

Our facility had a fully-equipped clinic with an operation theatre, but I was the only medically qualified person on the team. There was no nurse or attendant, which meant I was radiologist, pathologist, diagnostician, surgeon and nurse. Nobody ever falls ill with fever or an infection there because of the absence of viruses and bacteria. But there were a number of emergencies during my time. One person caught fire on his back. Another man fell from an oil tanker and hurt his back. There was a danger of spinal injury in his case. I also operated on a benign tumour. A few years ago, a doctor at another station performed an appendicitis operation on himself, using a mirror and the cook’s help. Now, the Indian Government has made it mandatory to have two doctors at a station. Thankfully, no one died when I was there. That would’ve been very sad; bodies can almost never be sent home. They are simply disposed of there.

Despite the work and the chores, I used to go out a lot. In the first few months, the men would not include me in any outings, so I had begun to take walks outside, just a little distance from the camp, on my own. Later, when my cooking smoothened matters somewhat, they would include me in outings. I used to travel with all the groups—the geologists, glaciologists, meteorologists, the logistical people; it was all such an adventure. What fascinated me the most were the penguins. They are the only natives of Antarctica. I observed their entire reproductive cycle. They make a nest out of pebbles and lay eggs in it. Emperor penguins breed in the winter. First, the female goes into the sea to eat: their usual food is this protein-rich fish called krill. She returns, weeks or a couple of months later, plump and shining and often with fish in her mouth for the mate and new-born chick. All this while, the male doesn’t stir out of the nest. A couple of days after the female returns, the male sets off into the sea, thin and wan. Penguins incubate the egg on their feet. If the egg hasn’t hatched by the time the female returns, the male rolls the egg onto the female’s feet. Watching them made me realise how lucky I was to get a chance like this, no matter how lonely it got.

In the evenings, if it wasn’t my turn to run chores, I would sit in my room and paint. I used expired medicines and mixed them with wall paints for my work. I came back with quite a few complete canvases. The one that gave me the most happiness was a painting of Guru Nanak; it gave me comfort and strength.

I learnt a bit of music from a couple of team members. We had quite a few parties too, to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries, and occasions like 15 August and 21 June, which is called Antarctica Day. All the countries that had a presence in Antarctica would celebrate this day. Sometimes, we got invitations from the stations of other countries. There are 27 countries present there under the Antarctic treaty. Some Americans actually try to have babies at their stations (they have four). I used to find this crazy. Then I learnt that they were pressing for Antarctic ‘citizenship’. The continent is very rich in minerals, and American settlers want to stake claim to the land.

I was very keen to see the submerged Indian station Dakshin Gangotri before we returned. For a long time, it was inaccessible. But the day before we were heading back, the weather cleared. Though we had already given back the snow clothes assigned to us, I decided to go. A small group came along. We were freezing without the special clothes. One container was still above water then. With great difficulty, one of the doors was prised open. We went inside and made a cup of tea. In Antarctica, the rule is to leave everything just as it was. This is so that if anyone gets lost, s/he can find food and so on in the closest shelter. We, too, left the kettle and cups back in their place before leaving.

On the flight back to Delhi, I remember I was overjoyed to see the green landscape from above. Antarctica is a vast ice desert. Nothing grows there apart from a very rare, undaunted variety of grass. I got some back with me. When I was showing it to my relatives, they were not impressed in the least. What they wanted to know was how much I had shopped there!

As told to Sohini Chattopadhyay

About The Author

Dr Kanwal Vilku