Living with Stress

“I’ve got some bad news for you.”

Shit! I thought. I was speaking to my best customer on the phone. What could be the bad news? Did I lose some business? I was tense.

“Actually, I should had called you up before”, the marine superintendent continued.

“By the way, thanks for the nice calendar. There is another one you sent for my colleague. It’s here with me. The only thing is that he is no more.”

“No more?” I repeated stupidly.

“Ya. We were in Italy last week. To board a ship out there. He had a massive heart attack. Just 32 years old. Clean habits. Never smoked. Has a wife and a small kid. I don’t know why. He died on the spot.”

Oh God! I knew him well and he was in my select list of customers. At least I didn’t lose any business. I immediately felt remorseful. Here I was getting this horrible piece of news and my brain was still stuck into business.

Shippies have a tough job. There’s too much of stress out there. Even in normal times with the reduced complement there’s too much to do. The extra pay they receive is really not enough to compensate. Recent developments of Somali piracy, criminalization of sea-farers, and now with the recession looming ominously in the horizon; there is a tremendous amount of stress in shipping.

Many years back a second mate who took over the ship’s accounts from me died of a heart attack.He was actually an ex Radio Officer who had switched over to deck duties.

In the STCW 95 days the IMO had permitted reduced safe-manning standards. In the process they had done away with ROs. The rationale was that the Master and Second Mate could perform those duties in addition to their own. The existing ROs had two options – either to fade away or change their jobs. This particular RO, like many others, studied for competency exams and transitioned into the deck stream.

I didn’t know him too well. Except that I had handed over the pay roll accounts to him. As I was signing off from the tanker he gave me an envelope containing, I think, a letter and USD 500.

“Please give it to my wife.”

I didn’t give him any receipt. It was unlikely that I would ever meet him again. Simply trust. That the packet will reach safely to his wife at Mumbai.

In the weeks that followed I was busy with yet another bunch of maritime courses. I met his wife at the main VT station. In the busy public place we spoke about the ship and I handed over the envelope to her. Then we each went away pursuing our own priorities in life. I had forgotten about the whole thing. Till one day I got a call from the panic-stricken wife.

“He’s no more.”

“Who? What happened?” I asked.

“This is Gloria here. My husband died yesterday. The company called up.

Oh God!

“Give me your address. We’ll be there.”

Later in the afternoon my wife and I found ourselves in an old part of Bandra. There was a quaint building. There were two kids playing in the tiny yard in front of the house.

This cannot be the place. I thought to myself. The place doesn’t seem as if a disaster has just occurred in the family.

But it was the right place. Mom had not been able to break the terrible news to the kids.

We remained in touch for some time. It took a few months for the compensation to come. The company was extremely cordial about it. Unlike some other shipping companies who are uncaring and unapproachable. And who give a bad name to the entire industry. As such most mariners work on contracts. We do not have the employee-owner relationship in the true sense.

I called Gloria up that Christmas. And then for another year. But, as it happens in life, I have lost touch with them.