13. QUIET DAYS BY THE COLOMBO SHORE

His Four Stripes and My Half-Open Eyes

That night, we slept with sweet satisfaction of our sea shopping still lingering in our minds. But around 2100 hours, on the 31st December, a call came from the port-the berth was finally ready and our ship had to move in. the Duty Officer informed Smith that Pilot was on his way. Within ten minutes, Smith was ready-freshened up, dressed neatly in his uniform, the four stripes gleaming on his epaulettes.

I watched him through half-open eyes, still heavy with sleep, quietly admiring how handsome he looked. Even now, every time I see him in uniform, that same thought crosses my mind-wow, so handsome.

While putting on his shoes, he looked at me and said softly, “Pilot is coming. If you want to enjoy the view, come to the bridge.”

But I was too sleepy. “You go, I will sleep,” I murmured, after a long busy day. I just wanted to enjoy the luxury of resting. Deep down, I knew Smith wanted me beside him-he wanted to see my face when we entered Colombo, to watch my eyes light up with excitement. But that night, I disappointed him. He went up to the bridge, and I drifted back to sleep.

Fireworks Over Colombo

Barely thirty minutes later, the cabin phone rang. Still half-asleep, I picked it up from beside my bed, already knowing it had to be Smith. Irritated and drowsy, I asked, “Now what?”

He laughed softly and said, “Wake up and just sit on your bed. Look out from the porthole-or you are going to miss something.” I sighed, said “okay,” and hung up.

With all the effort I could gather, I sat up and turn towards the porthole. For a second, I was confused. We were already almost inside Colombo-the berth was right in the heart of the city. And then I noticed it: fireworks. Bursting one after another across the city, painting with colours.

I blinked, trying to process it all, then quickly called the bridge. Smith picked up immediately-he knew it was me, and he knew exactly what I was about to ask. Before I could say anything, he said, “Happy New Year, Baby.”

And that’s when it struck me-it was midnight, the 31st of December. Colombo was celebrating the end of 2020 and welcoming 2021 in the most beautiful way. My sleepy irritation melted into awe. “I love you, and thank you,” I whispered. “I love you more,” he replied, and hung up.

I sat there on my bed, watching the fireworks sparkle over the city as our ship slowly berthed inside the glowing skyline. Soon my eyes grew heavy again, and I drifted back to sleep- knowing Smith would be busy all night with the customs and immigration formalities.

My Mother’s Sri Lanka

The next morning-the first day of 2021, I woke up early and went to the CCR. Since our ship was already alongside the berth, I had learned by then that the CCR was the most happening place on board whenever we were in the port. The Duty Officer, the Chief Officer, and Smith were all there.

Smith looked at me and said with a smile, “Let’s go out and see outside,” we stepped out together onto the berth. Our ship was a tanker, but we were berthed at a bulk carrier berth. Smith explained everything patiently-how those berths were built differently, how the long warehouse beside us was used to store cargo.

Behind us, an old bulk carrier, nearly fifty years old, stood still-a ghost ship now, waiting to be scrapped. Ahead of us stretched the city of Colombo-dotted with the tall buildings, Portuguese-style houses, and even a small temple. I stood there, fascinated, and happy, feeling like I was standing at the edge of a new year, and a new world.

I rushed back inside and called my mother, excitedly telling her, “Maa, I am in Sri Lanka.” She paused for a moment and then asked innocently, “Can you see anything related to Ravan there? His palace, or something from the Ramayana.”

For her, Sri Lanka has always been the land of Ravan and the great war of Ram and Ravan. When I was a child, I believed the same. But as I grew older and saw more of the world, I realized, those were just stories woven in faith and imagination. Yet, my mother never had that kind of exposure. For her, Sri Lanka will always remain the mythical land from the Ramayana.

And I did not want to break that beautiful innocence in her. So, I simply said, “No, Maa. I cannot see anything nearby, maybe it is somewhere else.” She still carries that little child within her heart, and I love that about her.

Trucks and Coconut Oil

It was still the COVID year, so going ashore was not allowed. Yet, I was content-happy for whatever little I got to experience from the ship itself.

After some time, I noticed trucks lining up on the berth, right near our manifold. I was puzzled at first. In the previous ports, I had always seen big cargo hoses connected to the port pipelines during loading or discharging. But here, there were no pipelines, no fixed cargo arms-it was a bulk berth, after all.

Soon, I realized what was happening. The ship would be discharging the coconut oil directly into the trucks. A cargo hose would connect to the ship’s manifold, and the other end would go straight inside the truck’s tank. Once, one truck was filled, another would take its place, and the cycle would continue.

I looked at Smith and said, “This will take such a long time!”

He smiled and replied, “Yes it will. And if it starts raining, the cargo operation will stop. Plus, on Sundays, no trucks will come-it’s a holiday here. So, prepare yourself, because we are going to stay here for quite some time.”

And instead of being impatient, I felt happy-because that meant I would get to spend more days watching this city, living its rhythm from the deck, and collecting memories that no one else could had in a time like that.

Kachra Seth and The Sweet Days in Colombo

And the days began to pass like that-slow and peaceful. Because of COVID, there was not much shore disturbance on the ship. Shore Officers hardly came aboard, preferring to keep their distance. The cargo operation moved at its own steady pace, often pausing when evening rain swept across the port. Only the days were busy, the nights were calm. Everyone was relaxed.

On the starboard side of the ship stretched a vast expanse of water, endlessly rippling under the tropical sun. On the opposite side was the container berth, where enormous ships-some nearly 350 or 400 meters long-were moored. From the deck, I watched them in awe. Those giants looked massive beside our tanker, and their cargo operations were astonishingly fast. The cranes moved with mechanical precision, lifting and placing containers one after another without a pause. I was genuinely impressed by the rhythm and coordination of the port-it felt like watching a perfectly timed dance of steel and machinery.

Smith and I spent those quiet days enjoying our me time-walking along the berth, watching the city from the deck, and soaking in the rhythm of Colombo. A few days slipped by like that.

One morning, while I was sitting in the CCR chatting with others, a man in his mid-sixties walked in. he introduced himself as the garbage collector for ships. His job was to collect unused or discarded items-old ropes, spare parts, food waste, ship’s waste-and sell them outside for good price. I noticed him glancing at me with curiosity. It’s rare to see a woman on ship, especially on tanker.

Finally, he asked, “Who are you?” I smiled and replied, “I am the captain’s wife.”

His face lit up. With excitement, he said he had never seen such young Captain before, and could not believe he was sailing with his wife. Then he asked warmly, “What do you want to eat?” I laughed and said, “Nothing, thank you.”

The Third Officer teased, whispering that madame should ask for an expensive wine. I told him to shut up, and everyone burst out laughing. The garbage collector chuckled too, then offered, “Shall I bring you some fresh coconuts? Or chocolates? Maybe guava?” Again, I politely refused.

Then he said gently, “You remind me of my daughter. I will bring you chocolates this evening.”

We all laughed after he left, joking that he was bluffing. I nicknamed him KACHRA SETH, after Shakti Kapoor’s funny character from the Bollywood movie ‘HUNGAMA’- a garbage dealer who turned out to be rich. From that day, everyone on board started calling him by that name.

But to our surprise, that evening, while Smith and I were having tea in our cabin, the Second Officer called to say, “Kachra Seth is here and he has brought dark chocolates for madame!” We both were shocked.

Down in the CCR, the Officers tried to convince him to leave the chocolates with them, but he refused. “I will only give them to madame or the captain,” he said firmly. So, Smith went down, thanked him personally, and collected the chocolates. The old man smiled with satisfaction, gave his blessings, and left.

We were touched. The people of Sri Lanka felt warm, simple, and full of kindness. Even our ship’s agent one day surprised me with a blueberry cheesecake, and a big chocolate cake for the crew.

Our eight days in Colombo passed just like that-eating, laughing, working slowly, and watching golden sunsets melt into calm, beautiful mornings.

The Goodbye to Colombo

On the ninth morning, the cargo operation was finally completed. The familiar sound of the winches and anchors echoed across the port-a reminder that our stay was coming to an end. The same city that had greeted us with fireworks was now silent under soft golden dawn.

From the bridge, I looked at Colombo one last time-its pastel-coloured houses, the temple roofs, the palm trees swaying near the water. The air smelled faintly of rain and coconut oil, the two scents that had become part of our days here.

So much had happened in those quiet eight days-the laughter in the CCR, the sweetness of Kachra Seth’s chocolates, the kindness of strangers, and the peace of watching sunsets from deck beside Smith. Sometimes the places where you cannot go ashore still manage to leave the deepest footprints in your heart.

As the ship slowly moved away from the berth, I whispered a soft goodbye to the city that had made the first week of 2021 feel so calm and full of life.

Colombo stayed behind-but it’s warmth, its rain, and it’s people sailed with us.