The Waters Beckon

I am leaving home today to join my husband in the seas. My husband is a seafarer, and a bloody good one at that if I may say so myself. And I am joining him in the seas. Enthusiastic and noisy, mysterious and silent, angry and roaring, violent and furious – the sea has many shapes. “as old as the seas” goes the phrase. It is used to denote someone who is really so old that you can’t really guess how old they are. But how old are the seas really? How many centuries worth of stories do those waters contain? What are the secrets that lie beneath those waters? I don’t know if I will find answers to these questions. Nevertheless, the waters beckoned and I was all set to go.

It was hard to say bye to the kids

It was a pretty long farewell. In a joint family of almost 30 people, farewells tend to be huge affairs. Prostrating in every elder’s feet, going room-by-room to say bye-bye, avoiding controversies by calling all and sundry, saying good-bye here is actually harder than leaving, pun intended. Thankfully, only the parents and in-laws came over to the airport. My mother is what my husband calls a drama queen. He thinks I have inherited that quality from her. But I thought she tried her best. Tears did not fall from her face until the very last moment. I am so proud of her. My in-laws put on a brave face and tried to cheer me up. My dad was half-laughing with lines creasing his forehead. It would be months before I saw these wonderful people again. I was pretty jittery myself. Farewells are ok. They remind you of who is important in your life. But what I am not used to is, travelling without a visa with just a handful of paperwork. Maybe this is how Cheena felt the first time he joined the ship as a cadet.  On second thoughts, he probably felt worse. He was only 18 then.

I was due to join the ship in Singapore. Pretty convenient, since it is only about 4 hours away from Chennai. The paperwork I had consisted of my ticket, “OK TO BOARD” certificate from the ship’s agents in Singapore, Immigration & Checkpoints Authority certificate and a guarantee letter from the company stating that they will take care of me come what may (how reassuring). I showed the OK TO BOARD and the guarantee letters to the authorities in India. They asked me if I was a seaman (you know, it should have been seawoman or something) and asked to see my CDC, which is something like a passport for seafarers. Oh no sir, didn’t you see that it says “supernumerary” on my letters? Do I have the build of somebody who looks like they could work on a ship? Hell, I never even played with a toy ship. No, it is my husband who is a seaman. I wish I could’ve said all that. But all I said was “no I am joining my husband who is a seaman” and added a smile for extra measure. I successfully boarded the flight, which was delayed by 1.5 hours, and got seated next to a guy who had a picture of a uniformed schoolgirl as his cellphone wallpaper, presumably his daughter. He ordered two large whiskies, got drunk and tried to make small talk with me. I was clearly in no mood for drunken babble and I was responding in one syllables. After multiple attempts at catching my attention, he said, “are you married?” and when I said yes, he never tried to talk to me again. Oh, the morals of a Tamilian drunken man!

I reached the best airport in the world and was oddly comforted looking at signs in Tamil AND Japanese. I waited at the immigration queue for ten minutes and at the counter, I was directed to another counter. Oops. I told the stern-math-teacher-like employee that I was going to join a ship. I was asked to be seated and wait. Time for free wifi! I reached Singapore folks! Hey Facebook, here is the mandatory check-in. Hey whatsapp, how you doing buddy?

I had to wait for almost 20 minutes before Ms. Math teacher beckoned to me and opened a side door. I felt like royalty walking through those private doors when everybody else was standing in a queue.

The driver held an iPad with my name on the screen. After exchanging courtesies and looking at my passport, he drove me through the roads of Singapore which made me cringe – Why are these roads SO clean?! Somebody mentioned that the PM of Singapore started a Clean Singapore mission in the 60’s. I wonder if the Swachh Bharat Mission would have similar results. The odds are pretty off, considering the population, but hey! we are trying.  We reached the boat jetty after about half an hour, and Mr. driver left me with another guy who was wearing a red t-shirt, blue shorts and a paunch. Another ten minutes where Mr. Paunch kept talking on the phone and disappearing, another guy with black t-shirt and brown shorts appeared. Mr. Paunch gave me some document with a boat number scribbled on it and asked me to board that boat.  I was taken to another gate by Mr. Brown shorts to meet the immigration officer. He carefully looked at my papers and nodded once. So I can go? Yay. I sprinted (as fast as I can with my 31.2 kg luggage) and waited with a few other people for the boat. The boatman called out “Sakura Glory!” and I went half-running dragging my luggage. The luggage got loaded and I was making the last leg of my long trip to meet my man.

As we were leaving

After a while

Leaving the land for good!

The boat was fast leaving the shore. The huge picture-postcard buildings were fast becoming just lights. There was a pleasant breeze and the chillness felt like a hug. I could not sit for all my nervousness was finally replaced by excitement. I just stood there enjoying the breeze and looking at all the huge ships, eagerly anticipating which one was “Sakura Glory”. And then, I saw him. Dressed in his uniform, waving out to me. I am sure I have never smiled so wide all my life. I wish he could’ve seen it. The boat stopped close to the ship, the gangway was opened and I climbed up the stairs. Here I am, “supernumerary” of Sakura Glory, which according to the dictionary means, “a person serving no apparent function”.  I will not be superfluous though; I am going to make myself useful. 絶対に！