Over The Horizon
Chapter 1 – Solitude in the Seas
28 August 2026
Miles away from home, in my room
aboard the MBS Edelweiss, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, I stared at
the vast expanse of water stretching endlessly before me.
It was a full moon night.
Traditionally the moon in August is called Sturgeon
Moon. This moon coincides with the Thiruvonam festival, celebrated in Kerala
but also coincides with the yearly sacred thread ceremony for Brahmins. The
asterism is probably associated with deep intuitive listening.
Sravana – meant listening… listening deep to
what I pondered?
Listening to your heart?
It was half past twelve at night.
The ship rolled gently beneath me,
and I found myself gazing at the stars through the window. Out here, away from
the lights of the cities, the sky seemed impossibly large.
I had three chapatis for dinner.
Three chapatis, the endless ocean,
and my thoughts.
I wondered if there could ever be
someone for me.
My last girlfriend, Akita, had found
it difficult to live with my schedule. Being away for long periods was never
easy. Weeks and months at sea had slowly created a distance between us that
neither of us knew how to cross.
Eventually, we parted ways.
She was married now.
Sometimes I wondered if this was all
my life was going to be.
Did I like being alone?
Yes.
Did I like my solitude?
Yes, I did.
Did I want someone to share my life
with?
Yes.
That was the strange part.
I loved my solitude. I loved the
sea. I loved the silence that came with being far away from everything
familiar.
But somewhere inside me, I still
wanted someone.
Someone who would yearn to see me as
much as I yearned to see her.
Someone who would understand that
leaving was part of my life, but that coming home mattered just as much.
I didn't know if such a person
existed.
Maybe that was why I kept looking at
the stars.
Maybe I was hoping they would
answer.
28 August 2026
I usually wake up at half past seven
in the morning.
Today, however, I was awake at 5:30.
The first rays of sunlight were
beginning to appear on the horizon. I stood quietly and offered my sun
salutations as the sky slowly changed colour.
There is something different about
watching a sunrise at sea.
There is no building blocking the
horizon. No traffic. No noise from a city waking up.
Just the sun, the ocean and me.
For a few minutes, everything felt
peaceful.
Then the ship reminded me where I
was.
29 August 2026
I was woken by the fire alarm today.
For a moment, I had no idea what was
happening.
Then the smell of something burning
reached me.
One of the large electrical motors
had burned out.
It looked like this was going to be
a long day.
I estimated that it could take
nearly twenty hours of non-stop work to get everything under control. I contacted
the port at Rio and asked whether we could proceed as planned.
Meanwhile, we had already arranged
food provisions for when we reached the port of Singapore.
Now we also needed a new motor and
several other spare parts.
The motor had burned out because we
had overused the compressor. The engine piston rings were also worn and
approaching the end of their service life.
Technically, there was still about a
year—or roughly 5,000 running hours—left before they were due for replacement.
But machinery doesn't always care
about schedules.
Sometimes it fails when it wants to.
That night, after everything that
had happened, I couldn't sleep.
I lay awake for hours, listening to
the sounds of the ship.
The sea outside was dark.
I had spring rolls and orange juice
for dinner.
And, once again, I found myself
thinking about her.
Whoever she might be.
Wherever she might be.
If she even existed.
