CHASING THE ISLAND EXPRESS

CHASING THE ISLAND EXPRESS FROM CHALAKUDY

Campus interviews by big Companies and prospective employers in our final year at IIT Madras was an eagerly awaited event, with great expectations and excitement.  Every year the honour of being labeled “The Most desirable employer” would go to different companies, based on word of mouth rumours, and tall tales from seniors who had signed up in those companies in previous years.  The Companies in the mid seventies most sought after were the “progressive” ones, who employed MBA’s by the dozens.  Graduates from top Management Institutes of that time were indeed the Top Dogs of the industry, with halos around their heads, brimming with ideas and new found enlightenment and management Gyan. 

Madura Coats and Metal Box ( declared a sick company by the BIFR a few years later) were the new kids on the block, along with old, hard boiled stalwarts like Hindustan Lever, L&T, Tatas, and the BARC.  This story is about Madura Coats, who had a sewing thread making factory in Koratti, Dist. Thrissur, Kerala.

A little more information is useful on how this hitherto low profile, hardcore manufacturing company with a long tradition of manufacturing culture, turned into a brash MBA driven company :  An extract from their website gives deep insight into the “Management team” at the helm of affairs.

" Board of Directors

Madura Coats is headed by a group of people who have not only distinguished themselves in their chosen fields of education but also in the corporate world through the excellent professional skills. They are our Directors, our leaders who strive to lead us to the ultimate goal of business excellence through customer satisfaction. "

This anonymous group of Directors and Leaders in the very same website claims “In the 70's, the company came to be known for embracing modern management concepts such as Management by Objectives and Performance Appraisal Systems”  :  Hence the great excitement in IIT Madras in  1974, the year I graduated, when Madura Coats came to town.

We don’t hear much of Madura Coats these days :  I suspect the reason for their sad state to be the rivalry and conflict between the hard boiled managers come up from the ranks in the production factories through toil, tears and sweat and the newly minted Managers “Managing by Objectives” from their air conditioned offices.  The following story is illustrative of this dichotomy.

After I moved to Bangalore in the year 1986, I was called in to the Head office of Madura Coats by a Vice President (an MBA ) to visit their factory in Koratti and set right the Wastewater Treatment Plant there, which had innumerable problems.  I had to interact in Koratti with Mr. J ( Name changed to protect his privacy and pension ) the engineering Manager, a veteran with decades of service in Madura Coats.

Koratti is about 20 Km by Road from Chalakudy the railhead.  Chalakudy itself is some 600 km from Bangalore, reached by an overnight journey on the Island Express.

In earlier times, Willingdon Island near Cochin Harbour  was the terminus for this famous train. Since then the Island express has moved on from Cochin to Nagercoil, and today right down to Kanyakumari ( Cape Comorin) the southernmost tip of the Indian Penisnsula.  Old timers still call it the Island Express.

The journey to koratti was uneventful and I was safely deposited at their excellent colonial era Guest House. Such guest houses are found aplenty attached to old factories established several decades ago in locales, which in their time were considered remote : Sirpur, Chirala, Munger, Saharanpur, Clutterbuckgunj, Veraval, Kymore come readily to mind.

After being refreshed, the factory vehicle transported me to Mr. J’s office, and after some strained initial pleasantries, he turned me over to the care of his junior flunkey.  I could discern his resentment and indeed ill concealed hostility and animosity towards me, being an emissary from the Head Office.  I held my temper, and set about my work.  By that afternoon, I had completed my study and submitted to Mr. J, what I thought was a fairly erudite and well conceived preliminary report adequately addressing their major concerns.  He just put it aside in his OUT tray, offered me tea, and suggested I retire to the Guest House and take rest : I had to catch the Island Express back to Bangalore at 6 PM that evening from Chalakudy.

On that fateful Friday afternoon, the Ladies club of Madura Coats, Koratti had commandeered the Guest House and its kitchen for one of their Annual rituals : I had no choice but to partake as an unwilling guest in their festivities. In between samosas and cakes, I kept an eagle eye on the huge wall clock in the enormous dining room of the Guest house.  Past about 5 PM, I got a little jittery – the vehicle to take me to Chalakudy had not reported.  Fifteen minutes later, when there was no sign of the car, I became positively agitated and called up Mr. J.  The scoundrel had evidently forgotten all about me like just a bad dream wished upon him by the Head office in Bangalore.

The car did arrive, and the driver drove hell for leather to Chalakudy to put me on the island Express.  We arrived in one piece at the station, only to see the train give a hoot, and slowly chug away to its next stop – Thrissur.  The driver, a brave lad, bless his soul, offered to drive me to Thrissur about 25 Km away, assuring me that he would make it in time.  Against my better judgement, I agreed to this foolhardy adventure : I would rather die trying than spend another night in Koratti, where I was not welcome.

If you have ever driven on the highways in Kerala, you will know exactly how dangerous this mission was : the roads  are narrow, serpentine,  villages and habitations are contiguous, and there is nary a free stretch of Highway, where one could push the pedal to the floor.  Twin Horns blaring, Headlights on High beam, and blinking, the trusty Ambassador car raced full tilt towards Thrissur.  Lazing cattle, chickens and humans were blown away like chaff in front of a speeding missile.   Even oncoming traffic respectfully pulled to the side to give way to an apparition audibly and visibly in such dire emergency.

Thrissur Junction was gained just in time, the train pulling in to stop. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thrissur_Railway_Station )  Alas, the train had halted on a platform on the wrong side of the station.  I had to make a lightning quick decision whether to climb over the foot overbridge to the other side, or put life and limb at risk and simply dash across the tracks and catch the train : I chose the latter, since I was still young and fit, and always travel light, unlike my dear wife.  I got into the nearest compartment with an open door, puffing and panting, as the train quickly pulled away.  In those days individual compartments of the train were not connected by vestibules.  I had to bide my time until the next stop to reach my allotted seat and berth in the train.

At Wadakkancherry the next stop, about 20 minutes out, I got off my temporary abode and rushed to claim my rightful place in the train. The Ticket collector had just then decided that poor Dr. A S Kodavasal, possibly having had an emergency on hand, was a “no show” :  he was proceeding to allot my berth to a waitlisted passenger.  I undeceived the kindly soul : “ I treat wastewater, not sickly humans” I said, to the merriment and a round of applause from all around.

Dr. Ananth S Kodavasal                                                                          June 30, 2011

Footnote :

Ever since this experience, I do not undertake any assignment, where the ultimate user is not on the same wavelength as mine : as they say, you can take a horse to water, but cannot make it drink.  I hate wasting my time on an unwilling horse.

DESIGNING BY THE BOOK

DESIGNING BY THE BOOK

I shifted base from Bombay to Bangalore in the year 1986, after job stints in Dorr-Oliver and Voltas International Ltd., in their Environmental Division.  Dorr - Oliver taught me almost everything I know of the business.  In Voltas, I got the opportunity to visit a number of countries including Egypt, Oman, Saudi and Yemen on business trips. More about Yemen and its Capital Sanaa, its seaport Hodeidah, and interior tribal areas of Marib, Dhamar and Ibb in a later article.

Not wishing to take up a job again, and also to move out of Bombay for reasons of health of my children, I traveled South on a reconnoitering mission.  I wanted to be on my own, offering consultancy services in the field of environmental control, more specifically in Wastewater Treatment. 

I traveled to Chennai first, scouting for business prospects there.  Chennai is a city after my own heart, having done most of my schooling there, and later my Chemical Engineering from IIT Madras.  After meeting with family, friends, associates, school and college mates, I quickly realised that there was Zero Potential for Consultants in Chennai.  The Business and Industrial scene in Tamilnadu  was dominated by Chettiars and Tamil Brahmins.  The former were universally reputed to be penny pinchers : the latter were the proverbial knowalls, who had no use for experts and consultants.  Read on, and you will agree with me on my assessment of the arrogance of Tambrahms, and delusions of superiority of their grey matter.

Head ruled over the heart, and I chose Bangalore to set up business, starting from scratch.  

Shortly after, I got myself a scooter ( two wheeler) and I traveled extensively, knocking on doors,  hawking my services and talents to all and sundry.  On one such mission, I went to neighbouring Hosur, to a Two Wheeler manufacturer, owned by a Brahmin by way of inheritance, and run by Brahmins by deliberate selection.  There I met the Engineering Manager, who confessed, they really needed a Sewage Treatment Plant, as presently the entire muck was piped away to irrigate the forest land of their 300 Acre campus.  I quickly grabbed the opportunity and offered to design the STP for them at a throwaway price.  The man with the “Naamam” was taken aback, surprise writ large on his face.  “What “, he exclaimed “ We don’t need consultants  to design an STP : we can read the books on the subject and design a plant ourselves. If we do not understand the first time, a second reading should do the trick”.  These were his very words, I solemnly declare.  I quitted Hosur, thoroughly crestfallen.

About ten years later, this very Company sought our services for operation & maintenance of their treatment plant : One look at the plant told me it was “Designed by the Book”.

Evidently the good Iyengar had struck a better bargain in the second hand book shops and got himself a bunch of books rather than invest in a current edition.  The design was poor, engineering was even worse :  Pumps were used indiscriminately at all stages of the treatment plant and some of the equipments selected were of decades old design.  No amount of rework would salvage that plant.

Dr. Ananth S Kodavasal                                                                          June 21, 2011

Footote :

Confirmation on the vintage of the books procured by the good man came, when I spied an abandoned and rusted “Fitch Feedwell” , an important part in the Clarifier of an STP, in the adjoining scrap yard.  Dr. E.Bryant Fitch of Dorr-Oliver developed and patented this mechanism only in the year 1960.  The Second hand books, were evidently earlier editions.

SLIP SLIDING AWAY IN A ZINC CLARIFIER

SLIP SLIDING AWAY IN A ZINC CLARIFIER

About thirty years ago, after extensive lab scale testing and trials, Dorr-Oliver (India), my erstwhile employer of great merit,  designed, fabricated, supplied and erected a 30 metre diameter clarifier/ thickener to Indian Rayons Ltd ( Now called Aditya Birla Nuvo)., to remove Zinc from the industry’s wastewater.  From an initial concentration level of 50-60 mg/L, the plant had to achieve treated water Zinc level of less than 1 mg/L by the classic heavy metals precipitation route at a pH of 9.0-10.0, using slaked lime.

If you wish to see pictures of large clarifiers/ thickeners, visit :

http://www.flsmidth.com/~/media/PDF%20Files/Liquid-Solid%20Separation/Sedimentation/FLSmidthThickenersClarifiers_brochure.ashx

The massive factory was located in the town of Veraval, in Junagadh District, at the southern tip of the jawlike peninsular stub of Gujarat.  Aside from the factory, there was little else of note in Veraval, except for its fishing and boat building industry. Only the Somnath Temple a few miles out of Veraval was the star attraction of this town.  History books tell of the razing of this hapless temple at different times by such illustrious Moslem marauders as Mahmud Ghazni, Allauddin Khilji, and our very own Mughal emperor Aurangazeb, among others.

Zinc Sulfate is used as an adjunct in the spinning bath in the manufacture of Viscose Filament yarn (Rayon).  Zinc is not consumed in the Rayon making process, but goes out with the washwaters as industrial waste.  Years later American Enka would develop a two stage precipitation procedure to recover the Zinc from the waste sludge, fit enough to recycle back in the production process.

The Clarifier at Veraval was erected, and commissioning trials had begun.  As a sub-junior marketing engineer, it was not my business to preside over commissioning of treatment plants.  That activity was under the purview of the specialist Technology team in Dorr-Oliver.  However, using the good offices of an obliging colleague, I convinced Natarajan, my boss to let me make the trip to Veraval.

Keshod, a nondescript little hamlet with a patchy little airstrip was the aerodrome serving Veraval.  Indian Airlines ran a thrice weekly limited seater turboprop service from Bombay to Keshod.  From Keshod one had to hire a taxi to travel to Veraval, a distance of about 50 KM, and check in at the well appointed Guest House of Indian Rayons.

The commissioning trials were progressing well, and Zinc levels in treated water well below 1.0 mg/L were achieved.  A planned shut down of the clarifier was taken, and the tank was emptied to check the condition of the floor blades of the rake and the squeegees. Also of interest would be to get a sample of the settled sludge on the floor of the clarifier to run a Zinc assay. Anil Kini ( The above referred obliging colleague, and stalwart from Technology) and I wended our way to the clarifier, using a bridle path, cutting across thick underbrush.

Having gained the clarifier, full of youthful vigour, zest and enthusiasm, and an equal measure of ignorance,  I clambered down the central pier of the clarifier, and proceeded to walk along the rake arms ( these are sturdy structural members mind you) trying to reach  a point a little away from the centre of the clarifier.

I got off the arms of the clarifier and stepped on to the floor of the tank :  Little could I imagine  the nightmarish ordeal that was to follow !!

Immediately I stepped on the floor, my feet gave way under me, slipping and sliding on the slick, slimy, layer of Zinc sludge covering the floor of the clarifier.  I fell headlong, coming down heavily on all fours, the force propelling me a little distance away from the rake arms of the clarifier. The force of the fall stunned me for a while.  After brief moments of total blackout, (depicted in old comic books with stars and other choice punctuation marks over the victim’s head), I came to, shaking  off the stars, taking deep breaths to compose myself.

I pondered over my condition, lying there in the middle of a Zinc clarifier in Veraval, thinking of a hundred different places I would rather be.  Then I put my thoughts to the immediate and more pressing task of finding a way out of the mess I had fallen into.  I tried getting up from the floor, but that was an impossibility : even the little action of my trying to get off all fours, caused a violent reaction, and the momentum would  slide me back further.  After a few brave attempts, I gave up this course of action as a bad job.

I then tried swivelling around on all fours, trying in the first instance to point my nose in the direction of the rake arms, whence, I could safely crawl to the safety of the waiting arms. This strategy was even more disastrous than I had imagined : swivel, I did, but could not stop at will, and I kept spinning round and round, losing all traction.  Finally, I gave up all hope, and looked up to the heavens for deliverance.

That was when I spied  the Joker, Anil Kini on the bridge of the clarifier, doubling over with laughter, clapping his hands, stomping his feet, in gleeful merriment at the spectacle below.

The pleading in my eyes, and croaking appeals moved the uncouth lout to come to my rescue : He walked over to the  Push Button Starter on the bridge, switched the motor ON.  The rake arm inched slowly towards me, and the nightmare ended.

Dr. Ananth S Kodavasal                                                                          June 15, 2011

P.S :  Later in the evening, at Keshod Aerodrome, the experience was more pleasant.

I was on the waitlist for the flight to Bombay, with little hope of getting on the small aircraft. The spectre of being stranded in Keshod/ Veraval was a daunting prospect.  The amiable looking Station Manager with the big bold Iyengar Namam took one look at me, then at my ticket and said: “Son !  I am from Kodavasal too.  I will put you on that Bird, come hell or high water.”

Talk about filial and caste affiliations.

THE BHANDUP WATER TREATMENT PLANT

ENVIRONMENTAL FACTORS THAT NEARLY KILLED

THE BHANDUP WATER TREATMENT PLANT

Regular readers of the adda articles will no doubt recall an earlier piece in which the importance of Proper Design of a treatment plant was highlighted as a crucial aspect for proper functioning of the plant.  Within this aspect was an innocuous sounding reference to “Environmental factors”.  How critical this can be in making or breaking a treatment plant is best illustrated by the following story from Asia’s Largest WTP at Bhandup, Bombay.

In the early 1980’s, the Bombay Municipal Corporation ( BMC)  was again the happy recipient of aid from the World Bank ( those were the days when India was a certified underdeveloped nation) for implementing a safe and secure water supply system to the burgeoning megaloplolis. 

Binnie & Partners, a respectable engineering consulting house based out of the UK were the  advisors for the project. Tata Consulting Engineers, an equally well respected outfit was their local sidekick.

The Table Top of a mini hillock in Bhandup, a suburb of Bombay was the chosen location for the Huge Water Treatment Complex :  by all counts, the site was ideal for the many advantages it offered.  It was close to Vihar Lake, the source of water for the WTP.  Water could flow by gravity from the lake to the WTP.  And, from the WTP, situated at a fairly good elevation ( I estimate around 100 metres above MSL)  supply of water to the teeming masses of Bombay could also be effected without expending much energy.  Dorr- Oliver (India) was chosen to supply the huge clarifiers required for the plant.  Hindustan Construction Company ( HCC- of Lavasa fame) were the civil contractors for the tankages.  I was biding time as a sub- junior engineer in Dorr-Oliver.

Now friends, don’t even think you can imagine the size and extent of the clarifiers, if your only exposure has been to the clarifiers in your basement/ backyard STP !  There were Twenty clarifiers, each 40 m x 40 m square, in all occupying an area little over 4 Hectares !.  A one time perambulation around these units could well qualify as a good Morning’s walk for us sedentary city folks.

( See for yourself : http://wikimapia.org/461   506/Water-Filteration-Plant-BMC

Binnie & Partners, clever fellows, clearly foresaw the pitfalls in clarifying water with very little suspended solids and turbidity coming out of a passive source such as Vihar lake ( Contrast this with a source like a flowing river in spate ).  Therefore, the clarifiers were of a very special design, deliberately incorporating a sludge recirculation system within the clarifier, just to provide sufficient seed sludge mass for the scant amount of incoming solids to cling on to and settle down. Excellent design, by all means.  And the Dorr- Oliver “Pretreator”^©, a solids contact clarifier  was the right piece of equipment for this duty.  The clarification stage in the Treatment Plant was followed by the “Aquazur” gravity sand filters of Degremont, France : another celebrity piece of technology in its own right.

Alas, the venerable Binnie & Partners had overlooked the all important “ Environmental conditions” , including Altitude and the surroundings of the site in their design.

The problem reared its ugly head right from the initial commissioning trials.  Cloudballs of light solids would regularly burst out of the clarifier at regular intervals during early morning and noon hours, to slowly subside later on in the day.  For months Binnie, TCE and the Technology team from Dorr-Oliver racked their combined brains to fathom this baffling phenomenon.  Without a  doubt, it was an amazing visual treat to behold these spectacular cloud formations in those huge clarifiers, which nevertheless left all and sundry red faced, and nowhere to hide on the open hill top of Bhandup.

Therein, lies the clue.

The sub-junior marketing engineer from Dorr-Oliver, with a fresh PhD Degree was summoned to the site, to see if he could put his newly learned knowledge to some practical use.  I was a regular visitor to the plant on subsequent days. Watching the clouds in the clarifier tank, fascinated, totally clueless, and having nothing better to do, trying to compare the patterns in the clouds below to those in the sky above.

When all at once I was struck by a bolt of lightning ! Eureka ! !

Now, if you have not already seen the hilltop site of the WTP, I ask you to visit the map again.

The Treatment plant is at an elevation, on a hillock, open to sky, totally isolated from any structures around, or back radiating bodies.  So, at nighttimes, the top layers of water in the clarifier would rapidly suffer drop in Temperature by radiating out energy to the ink black night sky. ( You have heard the story – one could freeze water kept in a shallow pan under a night sky in the desert).  So, in the morning hours, the colder, heavier water layers from the top of the clarifier tend to move down, and the incoming water, at slightly higher temperatures would move up to take the space recently vacated by the heavier masses.  The solid flocs, being light enough, were being carried up along with the warmer flowstreams.  That in a nutshell was what was happening.

For once, I eschewed my avowed reluctance to fall back upon hardcore scientific theory and complex equations : In a scholarly article of nearly 14 pages, using theory of Continuity, energy transport, convective transport, radiation theory, theory of turbulence, buoyancy theory etc., I could prove with sound theoretical, empirical and heuristic arguments that  buoyancy forces pushing up the floc clouds by these Temperature inversions,  are comparable to the inertial forces pulling the flocs down.

Once the cause was understood and acknowledged, the solution was simple enough : We simply weighted down the light flocs with a heavier seed material to aid the inertial forces in their fight against buoyancy.  Inertial forces won the war.  The seed material used was Bentonite clay.

Dr. Ananth S Kodavasal                                                                          June 10, 2011

P.S. : Binnie & Partners and TCE still owe me portion of their consultancy fee, for having saved their bacon in such a high profile, prestigious project of mammoth proportions.