By Rajendra Sharma

Even though the blowout on the SJ platform and the loss of Sagar Vikas occurred more than four decades ago, the incident remains etched in my memory. On the night of July 30th, 1982, I experienced a life-and-death situation firsthand while working as a chemist and mud engineer. I feel compelled to narrate this account to share my personal experience of the blowout and how it was managed afterward.

This memoir presents my experiences aboard Sagar Vikas, the causes of the mishap, the roles played by supervisors and management, and the decisions that shaped its outcome. It also highlights how human error can lead to disasters and offers insight into preventing similar incidents in future offshore drilling operations.

Until now, most print and online media have focused only on how ONGC’s top management successfully saved the 75-member crew of Sagar Vikas, receiving praise and accolades. Unfortunately, those accounts have rarely, if ever, investigated the real reasons behind the crisis or acknowledged the eventual loss of the rig itself.

Training and Assignment to Sagar Vikas

After completing my training as a chemist at the Keshava Dev Malviya Institute of Petroleum Exploration (KDMIPE), Dehradun, I was posted to the Bombay Offshore Project of the Oil and Natural Gas Commission (ONGC), Mumbai—then a commission, later a corporation. My first assignment was aboard the newly acquired jack-up rig Sagar Vikas, stationed approximately 150 km offshore from the Mumbai mainland.

I accepted this assignment with mixed feelings. On one hand, Sagar Vikas, the jack-up rig acquired after the successful deployment of ONGC owned Sagar Samrat. It was considered ONGC’s pride and joy following the discovery of oil in the Bombay High fields. I was excited about the opportunity to work offshore in the Arabian Sea alongside a highly regarded team which consisted of drilling, electrical and mechanical engineers, geologists, chemists, mechanics, electricians, derrick man, roustabouts and radio operators. On the other hand, I was apprehensive, having had no prior training to work on an offshore rig.

One comfort of the assignment was the 14-days-on, 14-days-off rotation, which allowed me valuable time with my family in Dehradun.

Transportation to offshore rigs from Juhu-Vile Parle (a Mumbai suburb) Heli base was via Russian-made MI-8 helicopters, leased to ONGC from the Indian Air Force. Flying in one of those choppers for the first time was exhilarating. More than 20 ONGC personnel would board a single flight, which took about 45 minutes to reach Sagar Vikas.

After a safety briefing and being issued life vests, we boarded and flew to the rig, landing on the helideck. Immediately after landing all the rig personnel who arrived on that day were required to report to the Barge Engineer in the radio room to verify their identities based on the manifesto submitted by the ONGC head office in Mumbai the previous night. My senior chemist, Mr. RC, came to the radio room to receive me. After a brief introduction Mr. RC gave me a tour of the rig and my work area and informed me that I would begin my night shift at 6 PM.

The rig layout included: - Ground floor: Galley, supply storage, sick bay, guest rooms, and toilets. - First floor: Living quarters with bunk beds (4-bunk rooms for junior staff, 2-bunk for senior officers), showers, and toilets. - Second floor: Tool pusher’s office, radio room, theatre, recreation area, conference room, and barge engineer’s quarters. - Top floor: Barge engineer’s viewing deck with control panels and navigation equipment.

At that time, drilling operations were contracted to an American company, Atwood Oceanics. I was introduced to the tool pusher, drilling supervisors, mechanics, radio operators, electricians, and the roustabout foreman. Mr. GC, the tool pusher, was a mechanical engineer who was also born and brought up in the same city as I was i.e. Jodhpur, Rajasthan. I was informed that close coordination with the roustabout foreman would be essential for tasks involving chemical loading and workspace maintenance.

After lunch, I rested before my 12-hour night shift began. At 6 PM, I reported to the day shift chemist at the lab near the shale shakers, desander, and desilter. Drilling on well SJ-4 had recently resumed after 30-inch casing piling.

The shift chemist reviewed the pit room, introduced me to the derrickman and night crew, and reviewed the mud levels in all four pits. We measured the density and viscosity of the drilling fluid and checked the Geo-Technical Order (GTO), which outlined expected formations, pressures, casing depths, and target depths.

The pace of drilling on Sagar Vikas was fast. The crew prided themselves on drilling a 2000-meter well in under 14 days. Slogans reading “Let us drill a well in 14 days” adorned the rig. Their efficiency earned them several ONGC performance awards.

Drilling fluid or mud slurry used for drilling an oil well has important functions. These are: A) to maintain hydrostatic pressure against the encountered geological formations. For that the fluid weight is carefully calculated to avoid the influx of formation fluid as well as to prevent formation fracture resulting in a mud loss. B) to bring rock cuttings to the surface. For this function the fluid should have sufficient viscosity and flow characteristics. C) to build a cake against the drilled formation just like a plaster which requires loss of water from the fluid. Drilling fluid is pumped from the mud pits through a pipe which is connected to the drill string on the drilling floor. From the drill string the fluid goes down well bore through the drilling bit used for cutting the rock formations. It then travels inside the well and comes up with rock cuttings, flows through the mud channel and finally return to the shale shaker where most of the big cuttings are filtered through a sieve. Filtered fluid is then passed through desander to remove sand, then to desilter to remove fine silt particles. This clean fluid is once again return to the pit via pipes and mud channels.

My responsibilities included monitoring mud parameters every 30 minutes for both incoming and outgoing fluid, recording data in the logbook, and coordinating with the shift driller and geologist. The work was demanding—physically and mentally. A chemist had to be alert, technically proficient, and quick-thinking.

After measuring the gross parameters of both ingoing and outcoming mud, I used to bring a few liters the mud sample to the lab to assess rheology, water loss, oil and sand content, and other properties. I used to do this exercise every hour in a 12 hours shift.

Despite the exhaustion after my first 14-day shift, I looked forward to going home. The crew-change helicopter arrived around noon, and I reached Juhu heli-base by 1 PM. From there, I took a train to Mumbai Central, boarded the 5 PM train to Delhi (an 18–24-hour journey), followed by a 7-hour bus to Dehradun. Though the travel was grueling, it was worth it to be home.

The Gas Kick and Blowout: Events Leading to Disaster

After a few months of rigorous, hands-on learning and teamwork, I became more confident in my role. I successfully completed multiple shifts, made friends among the crew, and adjusted to the demanding offshore life.

Soon after the completion of well SJ-4—successfully brought into production from the L3 reservoir—the contract with Atwood Oceanics ended, and ONGC’s in-house team took over operations. I vividly remember the departing words of Mr. Jim, a senior Atwood driller: “I’m not sure if the ONGC crew will be able to safely handle operations on this rig in the near future.”

Well SJ-5 was the final well on the SJ platform. It was a vertical well, unlike the other four inclined wells. Drilling of SJ-5 for the 13 3/8” casing reached 950 meters without incident. However, drilling the 20” casing section up to 250 meters was particularly difficult due to soft clay formations. Cuttings from this section often surfaced as sticky clumps known as “gumbo,” clogging mud channels and delaying operations.

Drilling progressed through the limestone and sandstone zones, including the gas-bearing S1 formation and the main L3 pay zone of the Bombay High reservoir. It was during this critical phase that a gas kick—a sudden influx of formation gas into the wellbore—occurred.

The Night of the Blowout

A few days before the blowout, I had completed my night shift and was resting when my senior chemist, Mr. RC, woke me up. He introduced me to Mr. RK, a senior chemist transferred from Ahmedabad who had never worked offshore. Despite having just finished my shift, I was asked to assist with Mr. RK’s orientation.

Over the next few days, I trained him on maintaining drilling mud parameters and monitoring critical zones—particularly the fragile L3 limestone pay zone. This zone required low-viscosity, lime-based mud with a specific gravity between 1.13–1.16.

After three days, Mr. RK took over the night shift. When I resumed my day shift, he assured me all was well. But in the pit room, I found barely enough mud left to continue operations. Alarmed, I mobilized a few roustabouts and began preparing fresh mud. The reserve pit had been emptied without replenishment.

By 6 PM, drilling had reached around 1600 meters. Exhausted, I handed over the shift, briefed Mr. RK, and retired. At 9 PM, emergency sirens blared. Grabbing life vests, we rushed to the deck. The well had become active during drill string withdrawal. Mud gushed to the crown block. The BOP lacked shear rams; only blind rams were available. Mr. Singh, the driller, with others, managed to release the drill string, allowing Mr. GC to shut the BOP.

A disaster was narrowly avoided.

The Aftermath: Evacuation, Fire, and International Response

The next morning, I resumed duty and began preparing heavy mud to kill the well. ONGC base personnel sent conflicting instructions due to rising BOP pressure. We attempted to pump heavy mud through the BOP kill line via a Halliburton cementing unit in cycles—bleeding pressure and pumping in 1.40–1.50 SG mud. For three days, we persisted without success.

Eventually, under pressure from the rig superintendent, we increased the mud weight to 1.60. That day, BOP pressure suddenly dropped to zero, giving a false sense of relief. Believing the well was dead, the rig superintendent decided to open the BOP to recover the drill string.

I was sent to the pit room to monitor for pit gain. Within minutes of opening the well, foamy, gas-laden mud surged into the pits. I recorded mud weights of just 0.8–0.9 SG, indicative of oil and gas influx. Despite announcing this over the paging system, there was no response for nearly an hour. An eerie silence engulfed the pit room area. I sensed something was wrong.

Rushing upstairs, I found the rig abandoned, with a stream of gas and oil rising above the crown block. I grabbed my life vest, ran to the portside ladder, and climbed down. Sea conditions were rough, but a rescue boat spotted me. I jumped from a height of nearly 10 feet and was hauled aboard.

The boat, overcrowded and tossed by high waves, attempted to find another rig to offload us. After multiple refusals, Sagar Pragati, another jack up rig finally accepted us for the overnight stay. Transfer from the boat to the rig was carried out by a crane using a hanging basket. Past midnight, we were fed, given beds, and evacuated by helicopter the following morning.

We returned to Mumbai with no personal belongings. Initially, ONGC declined to provide assistance, relenting only after heated discussions. Each survivor received a meager ₹800. I returned to Dehradun on my scheduled off-shift, grateful to be alive.

Meanwhile, oil and gas continued gushing into the Arabian Sea. The rig didn’t catch fire immediately due to monsoon rains, but ONGC had no expertise to cap a deepwater blowout. They summoned Red Adair, the legendary American well-control expert. By the time his team arrived, the well had ignited, destroying Sagar Vikas.

Red Adair’s team extinguished the fire and installed a massive BOP. A plan to drill a relief well was abandoned due to logistical issues. Instead, a barge from Brown & Root with a giant crane was hired to pump heavy mud and cement via a long pipe to the well.

I was posted on Sagar Pragati again to look after drilling fluid preparations and well completion. I also assisted in the final kill operations of the SJ-5 well from the crane barge. We prepared heavy mud in silos without proper mixers—making it difficult to maintain consistency. Despite stress and pressure from supervisors and visiting officials, we succeeded. After nearly three weeks of effort, SJ-5 was permanently sealed.

Reflections on Responsibility and Lessons Learned

The events surrounding the SJ-5 blowout were not merely technical failures; they exposed deep flaws in operational discipline, training, and decision-making. As someone who lived through that terrifying ordeal, I feel a responsibility to reflect on what went wrong—not to assign blame, but to prevent future tragedies.

First and foremost, the transition from the experienced Atwood Oceanics team to ONGC’s in-house drilling crew was abrupt and inadequately supported. Offshore drilling is a high-risk activity, and replacing a veteran team with one still gaining offshore experience should have been done with more caution, training, and overlap. Mr. Jim’s parting concern—that ONGC might struggle to safely manage the rig—proved tragically prescient.

Second, there was a lack of preparedness and clear communication. During the critical stages of SJ-5’s drilling, crew members received conflicting instructions. Senior chemists and engineers were under pressure, not just from the operation itself, but from the need to appear competent before their superiors. This led to poor decision-making, such as prematurely opening the BOP when signs of well activity persisted. The resulting blowout was entirely avoidable.

Another crucial oversight was the rig’s inadequate Blowout Preventer (BOP). Without shear rams—designed to cut the drill pipe and seal the well—the rig lacked the critical last line of defense against a runaway well. That design flaw turned a manageable gas kick into a catastrophic event.

Despite these systemic shortcomings, the bravery of the crew must be recognized. Men like Driller Mr. MS and others risked their lives to disengage the drill string and seal the well on the first night. I saw ordinary technicians, mechanics, and roustabouts act with extraordinary courage, trying to maintain control amid chaos.

Yet, while the heroism of individuals was evident, the institutional response fell short. Publicly, ONGC management was praised for saving lives, but little was done to examine internal failures or honor the crew’s efforts. Most media accounts focused on the rescue and the Red Adair team’s success, not the overlooked warnings or the operational missteps that led to disaster.

I also reflect on my own journey—from a nervous young chemist unsure about offshore duties to someone who helped kill one of the most notorious blowouts in India’s oil history. The experience left a deep impression on me. I learned that in high-stakes environments, safety must never be compromised—not for speed, pride, or bureaucratic approval.

The loss of Sagar Vikas was not just a financial blow—it was a human and institutional failure. But from the wreckage rose hard-earned lessons. ONGC would go on to strengthen its offshore training, equipment protocols, and emergency response capabilities. Much of that improvement was built on the painful learning of those of us who were there in July 1982.

This memoir is my tribute to the men who stood beside me, to the rig that once symbolized India’s offshore ambitions, and to the lessons etched forever into the Arabian Sea.

Let us remember- so that we never repeat.

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