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Excitement ran high as crowds thronged to catch a glimpse of massive ships anchoring at the Vizhinjam International Seaport in Kerala, which opened in early May. This got me thinking of a friend, a fellow journalist. Around this time last year, he had taken to social media to proudly share news of his daughter’s return from her first voyage — nearly 11 months at sea — in a profession where women make up just 1.5% of the workforce. Diya Dileep, his daughter, had chosen marine engineering despite the scepticism of her relatives, many of whom were now coming over to hear her seafaring stories. He and his wife were also initially hesitant to send their only child into uncharted waters.
It was a rainy morning in Thiruvananthapuram when I visited Diya at her house. In the living room, a photo of eight-year-old Diya playing in the waves stood among a showcase of flower vases and brass statues. I assumed she loved swimming. The 24-year-old corrected me: “I didn’t know how to swim before sailing. It is not mandatory for the job, but we are trained in safety basics, like how to use life jackets. I learned to swim in the pool on our ship.” On her phone, she picked out a photo — an aqua-blue rectangular pool on the deck, overlooking a grey ocean that stretched endlessly.
It wasn’t Kerala’s maritime history or the distant ships she saw from the beaches as a child that inspired her to join marine engineering. It was the desire to pursue something unconventional, work that earned respect and offered adventure, ideally in a uniformed force.
Her maiden voyage took her to more than a dozen ports — from Australia to the UK, Italy to Norway, and Singapore to the UAE — aboard a ship transporting flammable cargo, such as jet fuel, naphtha, and gasoline. Marine engineers are responsible for keeping the ship’s critical systems running smoothly when it is miles from shore, to ensure the cargo reaches its destination safely. They play a crucial role in keeping global trade going.
Physical demands
On May 5, 2023, Diya set sail as a trainee marine engineer aboard a product tanker vessel from Sikka Port in Gujarat. The engine roared to life, and the ship’s horn let out a deep blast as it pulled away from the anchorage. There were no movie-style long goodbyes; her family had already seen her off in Mumbai a few days earlier.
As a first-time sailor, with only a college visit to a passenger vessel at Kochi Port as prior exposure, everything was unfamiliar. She watched nervously as a giant net, tethered to a crane, scooped up her two trolley bags and a handbag filled with clothes, books, and snacks. Seeing them dangle mid-air, she wondered, “What if they fall into the sea?” Climbing the gangway (makeshift ladder), she looked up at Mt Hafnia Shenzhen, the Singapore-flagged vessel operated by a Japanese shipping firm that was to become her world. It rose nearly as tall as a three-storey building. Its crew comprised 24 Indians, including two other women — a deck cadet and a third engineer. Diya’s role was to assist the second engineer.
The work was difficult to grasp initially, such as distinguishing one duty alarm from another and responding to them within the required time. But slowly, she found her rhythm. Her work included maintenance of oil purifiers, main air compressor, engine, generators and boilers. She also helped manage the seawater-to-freshwater conversion system — the ship’s lifeline. This water is used for drinking, and also to keep the engines cool. One day, she and a female deck cadet were allowed to step into the cargo tank — a “risky zone” reserved for experienced crew — for minor pump maintenance. They entered the maze of pumps, valves, and vacuum breakers, accompanied by seniors. Tasks like decarbonising generators and repairing the air valve were admittedly strenuous.
The physically demanding nature of the job is one reason families discourage daughters from opting for this career. Though the crew was predominantly male, Diya didn’t feel out of place. “Women are given designated days to use the common laundry to ensure privacy. There are even incinerators for disposing of sanitary pads,” she said.
Her crew was fortunate not to face any high-stress situations like a medical emergency. Barring some turbulence en route to Australia and a brief blackout off the European coast, their time at sea went without incident. Recalling the blackout, she said, “I woke up to alarms one night, and just as I realised what was happening, the backup power systems automatically kicked in.”
Changing time
The daily shift ran from 8 am to 5 pm, beginning with a duty briefing. As a trainee, she was expected to arrive 15 minutes before the seniors. “A few times, I got calls from the engine room because I hadn’t woken up yet,” she admitted with a laugh. They had to clock an extra hour of night duty on a rotating schedule. Sunday is a day off, but routine checks are still done.
As the ship crossed time zones, work hours stretched or shrank accordingly. The master clock on the bridge (the ship’s command hub) updated with each new zone, and all other onboard clocks, known as slave clocks, adjusted in sync. “Today one hour ahead!” was a familiar announcement. Australia, their first stop after leaving Gujarat, took nearly a month to reach. The country is 4.5 hours ahead of India. Unlike the shock of jet lag from flying, Diya finds the shift at sea gradual, allowing the body to adapt gently. Fatigue doesn’t set in. The same is true of the ship’s motion: the body gets used to the side-to-side sway of rolling or the up-down rhythm of pitching. “Sailing near the Australian coast, the rolling and pitching were stronger than usual, but it felt like I was sleeping in a giant cradle,” she recalled, smiling.
I could relate. Compared to Diya, I have spent just one day aboard a ship, a luxury cruise, but even 15 years later, I still remember how blissful it felt to rest on the open ocean.
Party anthem
In Diya’s case, it wasn’t just the time zones that stretched. Her seven-month contract was extended by a little over three months due to delays in her replacement’s arrival. The crew nicknamed her the “antique piece” since she became the longest-serving crew member on board. Eleven months is the maximum a sailor can serve continuously, she said.
This meant spending more time away from her family and friends, and attending their marriages and get-togethers online. The hardest moment was not being able to attend the funeral of a beloved relative on the paternal side. For the most part, she didn’t feel homesick. She reminded me that “any stress melts away when you stand and stare at the open sea”.
Unlike in the past, today’s technology allows seafarers to stay connected with loved ones through video calls. They get a daily data allowance of roughly 1 GB, though “not enough to stream movies on OTT platforms”. “But good thing I packed a spare phone. My main one got damaged after seven months,” she said.
It helped that there was a sense of community on the ship. They celebrated everything from Onam to Deepavali, Eid, Christmas, and New Year. “Of course we didn’t burst crackers on Deepavali. We were carrying oil!” she quipped.
Occasionally, she had the company of Malayalis who served briefly on board. While navigating pirate-infested waters near the Suez Canal in Egypt, armed guards joined the crew — among them, a native of Kannur. “We spoke of home,” she said. And one evening, she was surprised to hear ‘Pala palli thirupalli’, a popular Malayalam track from the Prithviraj Sukumaran film ‘Kaduva’ blasting during a ship party. Most of the crew, hailing from north India, didn’t understand the lyrics, but they danced non-stop. “Some Malayalis who had sailed before me used to play it at these parties. The song’s vibrancy just stuck and it became the ship’s unofficial party anthem,” she explained.
Meals onboard were mainly north Indian, catering to the majority. But when she mentioned missing her mother’s ‘nadan’ fish curry, the chef gave it a try. “We had a common kitchen, but I never cooked. I am not good at it, I mostly helped out,” she said. On her birthday, the chef surprised her with a white cream cake, shared with two crew members who also had June birthdays. And each time the ship docked for refuelling (called bunkering), offloading waste and sending out oil shipments, new food supplies arrived — including different kinds of local fish. “We tried our hand at fishing while anchoring, but our efforts were in vain,” she said.
‘12 dollars per min’
I had many questions about life at sea — questions that Diya, still new to the profession, couldn’t fully answer. So I turned to someone with experience: retired captain Suryanarayanan Pullat. A native of Thrissur, now settled in Chennai, he began his career as a trainee in 1969 and rose through the ranks to become a captain by 1982, serving with the Shipping Corporation of India and some international shipping firms.
“Back then, ships had over 60 persons in the crew. Now, that number has dropped drastically due to automation. Most engine rooms are now unmanned. Engineers attend emergencies only,” he began. Tasks like cargo planning were entirely done onboard earlier. Now there is a lot of involvement from shore personnel.
Advancements have also reduced the time spent at sea. “In the olden days, the speed of the ship used to be 13 to 15 knots. Nowadays, big container ships move at 20 to 22 knots. The longest duration of a voyage used to be 40 to 45 days.” By contrast, Diya’s sailing from one port to another lasted two to four weeks.
He smiled at the memory of celestial navigation, long before satellites did the job. “We used to find our position using the sun, moon, and stars,” he said. Staying connected with family was a major hurdle. He recalled, “In the early ’80s, I remember paying 12 US dollars per minute for a satellite phone call.”
Cricket onboard
When Diya set sail, she wasn’t sure she could endure months living out of a small cabin, pacing narrow corridors, enclosed by steel railings. But when it came to an end, she left with a heavy heart. Parting with the crew members was difficult, but seeing familiar faces return on duty brought much cheer. Seniors were allowed to bring their spouses and kids on board, and their visits brought the warmth of family to the routine.
Some memories still seem surreal. “No one believes we played cricket on the deck,” she said. A string was tied to the ball to prevent sixers from flying overboard, and a tournament was conducted across several weeks. “It was my first time playing cricket, so my team didn’t expect much from me,” she recalled with a smile.
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The gym was another hive of activity. Crew members also used downtime to play table tennis, swim, watch movies loaded on the pen drive, and make online reels about their sailing life — a popular content genre now. But when the sea was rough, the captain advised everyone to stay indoors.
The sea also offered entertainment. Whenever something beautiful came into view, the ship’s command room would alert the crew. “We were sailing toward Korea when it started snowing. It was the first time I saw snowfall. I even showed it to my friends and family over a video call,” she said. Even the seemingly ordinary felt unique. “It is hard to explain in words, but every sea feels different. The Gulf of Aden near Yemen had a striking colour,” she continued. The skies also held her attention. The sight of the full moon, unobstructed by buildings or pollution, was memorable.
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Her phone camera was often on overdrive. She captured bioluminescent waves lighting up the dark waters, rainbows arching over the sea, and dolphins leaping alongside the vessel on many occasions. While sailing through Norway, the sun was out till 9 pm! Her Instagram became a travel journal of her shore leave. Shore leave refers to the time sailors are allowed to spend on land during a port call, after their duty hours. It gives them a chance to relax and unwind. She was, thus, able to visit the Milazzo port in Italy, the Queen Victoria Market in Australia, the Bristol University area in the UK, and the Little India bazaar in Singapore. In Egypt, merchants entered their ship for selling hats, keychains and T-shirts.
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And what souvenirs did she bring home? “I had bought chocolates for my family, but when my stay got extended, I ate them myself,” she said. For now, Diya has packed away her red boiler suit and picked up her books to prepare for the exam to qualify as a fourth engineer — the next step up in the engine department.