Graveyard of ships stirs memories

A recent news report about Alang, the graveyard of decommissioned ships in Gujarat, took me back to my days as an officer with India’s pioneering shipping company, Scindia Steam Navigation, in Bombay. As a ship aged and became economically unviable, it would be declared ‘sea-unworthy’ and sent to Alang for its final journey. For every officer and crew member who had worked aboard such a ship, it was a deeply emotional moment. All that remained were the memories of a vessel whose name was etched in their minds, the unforgettable experiences they shared on board and the rhythm of the ship as it rose and fell with every wave.

Ship-breakers, however, can never truly understand the soul and story of each ship. To them, it is just a hunk of metal to be torn apart and sold to the highest bidder. Merchant Navy ships may not be comparable with naval ones like INS Viraat, which served the Navy for 30 years and was sent to Alang in 2020, but the attachment that their crews have to the ships they serve on is no less significant. For us, those ships were not just vessels; they were the very lifeblood of our livelihoods.

After many years in the Merchant Navy, I began considering shore-based job opportunities. One day, while travelling on a train from Bombay, a fellow passenger took a keen interest in my experience as a chief engineer. He introduced himself as the owner of a ship-breaking company and made me a tempting job offer at Alang. For a moment, I nearly accepted it. But then, a quiet voice inside me made me realise that I just could not do it. Ships had given me everything: my career, my livelihood, my chance to see the world, and sometimes even the opportunity to travel with my family. How could I now consider a profession that involved dismantling the very ships that had supported me all these years?

I could not bring myself to be involved in the business of tearing apart the ships I had spent my career maintaining and sailing. It would have been like a physician abandoning the Hippocratic oath and choosing to profit from harming a patient instead of healing them. And so, I declined the offer.

Even now, after retirement, whenever I hear of a ship I once served on being sent to Alang, it stirs a flood of memories. From my early days as a junior officer to my tenure as a chief engineer, every ship I served on was an important part of my journey. Alang will always be the final resting place for those ‘sea-unworthy’ ships, but it is always heartbreaking to know that they are being broken down.

Musings