Barrister Parvateesam

By evening, our steamer slowly crossed the Strait of Dover and entered the English Channel. The waves were a bit more turbulent there, but somehow, we managed to escape and entered the vast Atlantic Ocean. By then, darkness had fallen completely. Though our ship had traveled this route thousands of times, it now seemed to be feeling its way forward step by cautious step, as if it couldn’t see the way in the darkness. Everywhere I looked, there was impenetrable blackness—except for the stars in the sky, not a single light could be seen from any town along the French coast. All this, I supposed, was due to the fear of war. Beneath us, the endless, unfathomable Atlantic Ocean. After three years, I was once again sailing the seas, filled with the joy of returning home, and with the thought: “In this lifetime, how many of these people will I ever meet again?” More than anything, I was gripped by a single fear: “Will our ship, which has thus far escaped the ravages of nature and the monstrous acts of enemies, be able to carry me safely across this unknown, boundless ocean and deliver me home?”

Just then, the call for dinner came. I went below. At the table, they served everyone the same food, myself included. I called the waiter over and told him, “This meal won’t do for me. I am a vegetarian. Except for rice and vegetables, I won’t touch anything else, not even eggs.” He asked, “What shall I do now, sir?” I replied, “If necessary, I can wait a little. Otherwise, just bring me a plate with some vegetables, a bit of bread, butter, pudding, milk, and fruit.” He said, “Is that all, sir?” I replied, “That’s enough. I am easily satisfied.” He laughed and went off cheerfully. Soon enough, he brought me potatoes, cabbage curry, bread, butter, sago pudding, milk, and bananas. I told him not to forget to have two handfuls of rice cooked for me for both meals from tomorrow onwards. “Sure, sir! Certainly, sir!” he replied.

After dinner, I went up on deck, strolled for a while, gazed at the endless, unfathomable ocean and sky, then quietly returned to my cabin, changed my clothes, and lay down. No matter how long I lay there, sleep would not come to my eyes.

I could not get a wink of sleep. As I lay down, without any effort on my part, the waves of the sea were tossing me this way and that. Once again, my mind began to wander with all sorts of thoughts—our house owner, her daughters, that mischievous little child, the unexpected affection they all showed me, my private tutor, the young instructor who taught me golf, the friends who played golf with me, the young lady who once tried to flirt with me while sitting beside me at a play, the beloved who was so drawn to me and loved me dearly—so many faces, so many places,