Echoes of Memory: The River That Learned to Flow

CHAPTER 4

THE FIRST REUNION AND THE FRAGRANCE OF LOVE

As I climbed the gangway ladder, Aravind was standing at the entrance of the ship waiting for me.

He was dressed in his crisp khaki uniform, the proud black rank slides resting upon his shoulders.

The moment I saw him, all my anxiety disappeared.

My world became still.

He opened his arms, held me securely, and pulled me into a tight embrace.

Because of the traditional environment in which we had married, our wedding night had not unfolded in the conventional manner.

But inside that small, cosy ship's cabin, over the coffee he brewed with his own hands, surrounded by his embrace and his kisses, our love and our married life truly blossomed.

One tender moment led to another.

And another.

Early Days at Sea and Sea Sickness

The little cabin became a place of warmth.

But the sea had its own lessons to teach me.

As the vessel rolled and pitched upon the waves, I was thrown from one side of the berth to the other.

Severe seasickness and nausea overwhelmed me.

In those miserable moments, Aravind cared for me like a mother.

Without hesitation.

Without irritation.

He stroked my forehead.

He held me close.

And amidst the chaos of the rolling sea, his tenderness made me feel his devotion far more deeply than I felt the terror of the waves.

During a shopping trip in Singapore, he bought me a teddy bear and a pink dress.

Years later, out of affection, I gave that treasured teddy bear to my domestic help.

Aravind had already been working aboard the ship for three months before I arrived.

When his first salary cheque arrived after my arrival, the Captain handed it directly to me.

He teasingly said,

“Here, Aravind. From now on, your salary goes directly to your wife. She is the official Finance Secretary!”

Until we signed off from the ship, every monthly cheque came into my hands.

I would hand it over to Aravind.

Whenever we reached a port, he would deposit the money so that we could save towards building our dream home.

CHAPTER 5

THE SPLENDOR OF THE SEA AND MR. PYROMANIA

Aravind’s watchkeeping schedule was from 12 PM to 4 PM and again from 12 AM to 4 AM.

During those hours, I would remain in the cabin, gazing at the endless blue expanse of the ocean.

Sometimes I would step onto the deck and watch whales leap from the water or flying fish glide across the surface.

Those days possessed a strange serenity.

When his duty ended and he came towards me, still wearing his greasy work clothes, I would step back teasingly.

“Oh no. Go and take a shower first!”

But he would smile, complete his affectionate embrace anyway, and only then walk away.

Similarly, if I told him,

“You shouldn't kiss me immediately after smoking.”

he would gently hug and kiss me first and then walk away with a mischievous smile to light his cigarette.

He had a particular confidence about him.

It silently said:

I will listen to what you say.

But I will also do what I want.

I enjoyed cooking.

On board, the foreign crew members enjoyed my Indian food and would politely ask,

“Ma'am, could you cook a little for us too?”

There was also a Chief Engineer who was extraordinarily forgetful.

He would switch on the galley stove and simply walk away without turning it off.

We therefore gave him an affectionate nickname.

Mr. Pyromania.

Whenever people on the ship playfully told me,

“You are so beautiful! Just don't tell your husband we said that!”

I would smile and reply,

“I know. Thank you. Don't worry, I won't tell him.”

But the mere thought of Aravind’s piercing eyes was enough to remind me that I could never really hide anything from him anyway.

The Shopping Incident in Singapore

One particular incident during our Singapore trip remains vivid in my memory.

The Captain and his wife, the Second Officer and his wife, Aravind, and I had gone ashore shopping.

The others finished their shopping and returned to the ship.

Aravind and I stayed behind a little longer.

The area was considered risky at night, and there had been warnings about pirate activity.

The launch boat that had brought us ashore had already departed by the time we returned.

We had no choice but to hire another boat to search for our ship in complete darkness.

It was pitch black.

The ocean stretched endlessly around us.

Every ship looked almost identical.

I was utterly bewildered.

Aravind, however, remained completely calm.

He studied the surroundings.

He calculated that our vessel should be in the fifth anchorage row.

Then he noticed a particular structural feature on the port side of one vessel and a subtle mark on its starboard side.

Within a minute of observation, he had identified our ship.

He instructed the boat driver to contact the vessel by walkie-talkie.

Seconds later, a powerful spotlight pierced the darkness.

It illuminated our path.

The gangway was lowered.

We climbed aboard.

And everyone from the Captain to the crew was watching us.

The stern expressions on their faces remain unforgettable.

This was not an ordinary late return.

Returning at approximately 9:30 PM, in the darkness of the open sea, finding our vessel using a hired launch, and climbing aboard beneath a powerful spotlight, while everyone watched, felt like something straight out of a film.

Aravind remained completely unperturbed.

I, however, made a silent promise to myself.

Even if I go shopping next time, I am coming back on time.

The Incident in Vietnam

Another small incident from Vietnam remains in my memory.

While we were walking through a park, two women began following us closely.

I could not understand what they were saying or why they were following us.

At that age, I was still naïve about the world.

I was slowly discovering that not every country operated according to the social rules I had grown up with.

Aravind handled the situation with complete nonchalance and explained the nature of the place to me.

I stared at him in astonishment.

“Oh my God! Do such things actually exist in this world?”

He laughed.

“You have a lot to learn about the world, my dear!”

Even today, remembering that incident makes me smile.

In those early years, I truly was like an innocent child.

I knew that the world was enormous.

But Aravind was the one who gradually unveiled its astonishing spectrum of human behaviour, cultures, and ways of living.

CHAPTER 6

THE 45-DAY WAIT AND THE BOMBAY-DUBAI PHONE CALLS

When Aravind was working aboard foreign vessels, satellite calls were prohibitively expensive.

There were times when forty-five or fifty days passed without a single phone call.

Anxiety would consume me.

I would call the company's head offices in Bombay or Dubai merely to find out where the ship was.

Whenever the landline receiver finally reached my hands after everyone else had spoken to him, his voice would come through:

“Hello, Meera... Kanna...”

And immediately, the background would announce the warning beep of the calling card running out of balance.

“Sorry, ma... I'll speak at the next port...”

And the line would go dead.

Yet those few seconds of hearing his voice were enough to make me immensely happy.

Within a year or two of our marriage, my father-in-law became seriously ill.

Aravind took a one-year break from work to care for his father at home with complete devotion.

As my father-in-law approached his final moments, he held Aravind’s hand and blessed him emotionally.

“You will never find a wife like yours. Take good care of her.”

Those words remained with me.

CHAPTER 7

SERVICE TO PARENTS AND A TRANSFORMED KITCHEN

Aravind helped his brothers build their homes.

Eventually, his youngest brother married, and everyone settled into their own independent lives.

It was then that we began thinking about having a home of our own.

Aravind approached my father and asked for his permission.

We decided to build our house on the first floor above my father's residence.

I still remember exactly what Aravind told my father.

“When I go to sea, I am away for six or seven months. Your daughter stays alone, and that worries both of us. If we build a home on the first floor above yours, I can be at peace knowing that she is safe with you. At the same time, it will give you support as well.”

My father agreed immediately.

And so our independent home came into existence above my father's house.

It was more than a house.

For me, it was peace of mind.

During the long months when Aravind was away at sea, I knew that my father was just below me.

A few years after we moved there, my mother's health deteriorated severely.

She became bedridden.

During that difficult period, Aravind stepped forward like a true son.

He took care of everything.

Even sponge baths.

Even changing diapers.

Nothing was beneath him when it came to caring for her.

My father witnessed all this.

He cried.

He embraced Aravind and said,

“No, ma... I was wrong in my initial assessment of him. I made no mistake. He is truly a rare diamond.”

Aravind was no longer merely my father's son-in-law.

He had become his son.

That is why Aravind’s name remained engraved within my father's heart until his final days.

After moving above my father's house, the kitchen transformed completely.

My father had watched me struggle for years with the joint-family cooking.

One day he told me,

“Meera, don't cook separately for me. I will take care of it.”

Most days, my father lovingly cooked lunch himself.

I only had to prepare dinner.

When Aravind returned home on leave, I would prepare his favourite dishes.

Sometimes my father would insist,

“Today, I will cook for my son-in-law!”

And he would prepare Aravind’s favourite food and serve him himself.

Those kitchen days were filled with warmth.

They were filled with love.

And today, those ordinary moments have become extraordinary memories.

CHAPTER 8

HARD WORK, DESPAIR, AND THE GOA DAYS

Aravind had begun working at a very young age.

He worked tirelessly to improve his family's circumstances and secure a better future for them.

But that enormous workload and burden of responsibility eventually took a toll on his health.

After returning from Jordan, he developed serious health complications.

Eventually, he underwent heart valve replacement surgery.

Three months of compulsory bed rest followed.

Once those three months were over, he obtained his medical and fitness certificates and was determined to return to sea.

My father, myself, and the rest of the family pleaded with him.

“You have undergone major surgery. Can't you rest now? Why continue pushing yourself so hard?”

His answer was simple and firm.

“No, Meera. I cannot sit idle at home. I am perfectly all right now. I will work as long as I am capable. Sitting idle is impossible for me.”

Nothing could change his mind.

Despite the major surgery, he rehabilitated himself and returned to work.

He continued working on Indian vessels for nearly nine years after that medical milestone.

His body had issued a warning.

But life did not stop him.

Working.

Providing.

Supporting his family.

Living fully.

That was Aravind.

It was during those years on Indian vessels that Goa entered our lives.

When he was stationed in Goa, I would stay at a nearby hotel.

After his duty hours, he would join me.

We would walk along the beach.

We would spend precious time together.

Those Goa days remain among the most treasured memories of my life.

He had to continue commuting back to work, but the little time we shared gave us enormous happiness.

Eventually, after those nine years, cumulative health problems and circumstances forced him into early retirement.

Retiring at such a young age may have left a quiet frustration within him.

I sometimes wonder whether that frustration contributed to his inability to stop smoking and his neglect of his health.

He ignored his body.

He ate unhealthy junk food.

But whatever turmoil may have existed within him, one thing never diminished.

His love and care for me.

CHAPTER 9

THE GOLDEN ERA AND PLAYFUL SQUABBLES

The four years after his retirement were the golden era of our life.

After his afternoon nap, Aravind would personally make tea for me.

That became our little tea ritual.

After he passed away, that ritual disappeared.

And to this day, I have not touched another cup of tea.

Aravind had a slight temper.

He was also uncompromising about perfection.

Yet beyond those traits, people of every age, caste, and background loved him.

He was truly a towering personality.

He maintained his regal presence until the very end.

He wore a gold chain.

A bracelet.

A ring.

A wristwatch.

And he wanted me to carry myself with a similar dignity and presence.

Whenever we entered a jewellery shop, he would eagerly ask,

“Do you want this gold chain? Or this diamond?”

I would say,

“Oh no. I don't need all that. Simple jewellery is enough.”

He would complain playfully,

“Is there any wife who refuses gold and diamonds when her husband offers to buy them? You always want these simple beads and silver jewellery!”

In the end, he would buy the simple silver pieces that I actually loved.

Aravind disliked seeing me without a bindi or flowers in my hair.

Wherever he went, no matter what else he forgot, he never forgot to bring flowers for me.

He would hand them to me and say,

“Wear these flowers.”

Those flowers were not merely decoration.

They were small, fragrant tokens of his love.

Even today, all these years later, I continue to wear flowers and a bindi.

I have never lived according to society's expectations.

He loved seeing me that way.

And for me, that is enough.

That is why those traditions remain with me.

Aravind loved smoking.

I hated it.

Whenever I told him,

“No kissing after smoking!”

he would smile, kiss me anyway, and then walk away to smoke.

That was simply who he was.

In some matters, he listened to me.

In others, he followed his own mind.

That was our imperfect marriage.

But it was filled with love.

Even after retirement, my habit of chasing him over the telephone continued.

If he was late returning home, I would call him immediately.

If he hung up saying,

“I'm in traffic, ma,”

I would call the people at his destination just to confirm whether he had arrived or left.

He would tease me.

I would pretend to be angry.

And then we would both laugh.

Those little quarrels, those ridiculous phone calls, those affectionate exchanges have now become precious memories.

Today, when I stumble through moments of solitude, my heart sometimes cries out:

If only Aravind were here.

He would have guided me.

He would have protected me.

He would have known what to do.

The Balanced Man

One of the qualities I admired most deeply in Aravind was his ability to maintain balance.

He was subservient to no one.

Yet he understood how to give appropriate space and respect to his parents, siblings, my parents, friends, and me.

He knew where his responsibilities lay.

He understood boundaries.

He was, in many ways, a deeply mature man.

Self-Respect, Dignity, and Pride in Me

He rose from being a humble seaman to becoming a Chief Engineer through sheer determination and hard work.

Yet he never compromised his self-respect.

He never surrendered his dignity.

And he never treated me as a trophy wife.

He treated me as an autonomous woman with dignity of her own.

At the same time, he never wanted to see me sitting with my shoulders drooping or crying endlessly.

He wanted me to wear a bindi.

He wanted flowers in my hair.

He wanted me to stand tall.

He wanted me to respect elders.

Whenever relatives praised him and said that he was blessed to have a wife who adjusted for the family despite being educated, his face would glow with pride.

When those same relatives later cried at his funeral and said that he had not lived long enough to enjoy such a wife, something inside my heart shattered.

Shakespeare once expressed the thought that if money is lost, nothing is lost; if health is lost, something is lost; but if character is lost, everything is lost.

Aravind embodied that principle.

No matter how influential a person becomes, and no matter how much wealth he possesses, if honesty, straightforwardness, and integrity are compromised, something fundamental is lost.

Aravind understood that clearly.

In everything he undertook, and with every person he cared for, his honesty and dedication were evident.

He never mortgaged his integrity for money or status.

Human Nature and Minor Frailties

But he was human.

He was not flawless.

Although generally calm and intelligent, he possessed a temper that could occasionally flare.

And despite all his strengths, smoking remained one of his greatest weaknesses.

Apart from the occasional beer with friends, it was the habit he could never fully overcome.

Even after my constant pleading and even after major surgery, he could not completely free himself from it.

The Unhealing Wound

The knowledge that this habit may have contributed significantly to his sudden departure remains an unhealing wound within me.

Sometimes I think:

If only he had taken a little better care of his body.

If only he had paid a little more attention to what he ate.

Perhaps he would have remained beside me a little longer.

That thought has never completely left me.