A Sea Voyage - Digbejoy Ghosh

DAY 1
The sickness seems to have worn off. Temporary pulmonary edema apparently. I always thought that shit happened to mountaineers. What a waste of a day! Then again there isn't much to do when you're stranded on a ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean. The weather changes in minutes. Open blue skies, the sun baking behind your back followed by soft sprays of rain that come and go. Its like playing a guessing game with Mother Nature. And you can tell She's doing it just for kicks.
The Islands are just five days away. I keep telling myself this over and over again to keep from jumping overboard. Sometimes I think its better to try my luck with the Reef Sharks than being tossed around in my bunk all day. Then again maybe not. Urban legend tells of a group of divers who surfaced after a dive to find chunks of their limbs missing. They could see the black tipped fins circling in a feeding frenzy around the boat just before they collapsed on deck.
The captain's a cheerful fellow. The very stereotype that we are taught to disbelieve. You'd recognise his silver hip-flask anywhere. His boisterous, back-slapping nature adding an endearing quality to his character. He appears to be a true man of the sea. Last week, we watched him merrily chatter with his crew while the waves tossed us about mercilessly during one of those equatorial storms that seem to frequent these latitudes. Am I glad we made it out of that one. Although I do feel a little sorry for having regurgitated my dinner all over the wooden floors. Considering the fact that rations are limited and we are on an “exploratory” voyage.

DAY 2
Sunday morning. I'm sprawling on a pearl white beach, a cool breeze blowing into the azure waters that lie in front of me. The sun is perfect, filtering in through cloudy patches casting playful shadows on the sand. And suddenly the dream is over. I'm back in my stinking bunk trying to focus on the light fixture two feet above my head. Breakfast was the same old stuff. Tinned food, baked beans and bread. It was only after eating my fill did I notice something amiss. Everybody on board looked rather grave. Even the Captain seemed a little tense. After a little interrogation I found out what the trouble was. While I lay dreaming in my cabin, the sailor on watch sighted an unknown vessel in the distance. It was only when it began to pick up speed did they realise that we were close to the Somali coast. Piracy on the high seas were no longer a myth of the past. These buccaneers were ferocious gun-toting men who spared no one during their rampages. Very often they would take captives for ransom, who were of course never heard from again, whether or not the ransom was paid. Fortunately for us, the chase lasted a short while, as we neared a drifting coast guard patrol boat. The pirates fled much to the relief of the crew.
Suddenly I'm in the middle of an adventure, without really asking for one.

DAY 3
A day spent wondering is a day lost to mankind. These are not ramblings. I know they aren't. I spent the whole day indoors trying to measure out what life has in store for me. Safe to say that I will never know. The atmosphere on the boat has been tense since our little incident the night before last. the captain looks a little tired, allowing his age to show through his usually jolly exterior. I am treading that familiar path of disillusionment once again, and it is beginning to depress me.
Just when I thought there was still hope, the ugly head of dissatisfaction comes along and bites me in the arse. Then in the evening mother nature shows up and tosses it into the wind. Gale force winds give birth to thirty foot waves and suddenly I don't care where my life is going anymore as long as I'm alive at the end of the day. Its all relative isn't it? the existential dilemma suddenly becomes a luxury of the fortunate. Am i fortunate? To be in the middle of the ocean in a boat with complete strangers, putting my life in their hands? Waking eating sleeping together like brothers, like fellow men? This was supposed to be the opportunity of a lifetime and I know now that it really is.

DAY 4
There's seawater everywhere. The engine room emits smoke every now and then, sending the engineer and his subordinates gasping for air. The boat lurches suddenly, sending us scrambling for the miserable excuse of a lifeboat that remains tethered to the side of the boat. Frankly, I'm surprised that the waves did not tear it away last night. We seem to have lost a lot of valuable supplies and damaged the radio in the process. But we are alive. And happy to be so. The tropical squall took us apart, taking everything from us but it was the spirit of man that triumphed in the end.
So now here we are, off course, without communication, trapped on a boat with dwindling supplies and not an island in sight. An hour of frustrated searching revealed one of the cabin crew missing., a torn piece of clothing caught in the winch the only reminder that he ever existed. Makes one really think about how valuable life is, under any circumstances. The vastness of the ocean against the sheer nothingness of our existence scares me. Why does everybody talk of the larger picture, when in reality they can't cope with the fact that we are inconsequential puppets of time? The past few days have been a humbling experience for me.
My thoughts are fragmented now. The events over the past few days have shaken me like nothing before. To come from a big city, accustomed to a comfortable life to living in a boat in the middle of the ocean with complete strangers to me has been a huge jump in perspective. Gone are those decadent ideas of a luxurious lifestyle and a safe future. I'm just happy to be alive, and I hope we reach our destination, safely and in good spirits, that is all.

DAY 5
I keep reading my journal over and over again. So much has happened in such a short while. The men on the boat are now closer to one another. We sat together on the deck and played cards to cheer ourselves up. I practically lost every game, but I guess its a small price to pay in exchange for camaraderie. While drifting along the ocean waves, crippled as we were, we had the good fortune of running into a transport ship, whose crew were nice enough to lend us a helping hand. We got our communication equipment fixed along with the damaged boilers in the engine room. We borrowed some rations too, promising to pay their employers at the Port.
Back on course, we are now three days away from Port Louis. The white sands of Mauritius will be a nice change from being tossed around in the Indian Ocean. No restrictions on food, drink or lifestyle. Well, maybe the latter is directly proportional to the amount of money one has, which in my case isn't much really, but still I expect it will be better than a stinking old bunk on a boat.