Skip to main content

That Guy with Dirty Overalls

Paanchu! 

No, it is not a cuss word. It is short for Paanch Saab - our very own 5th Engineer on ships. Usually fresh out of college, this guy is one of my favorite people in the Engine Room, and definitely deserves whatever limited publicity I can muster for him with this page. Apart from Paanchu and Paanch Saab, he also answers to Junior, Cadet, Cadetsky, Fifth, Chote, Munna, etc. It's a long list, really. I even remember one of my seniors calling me using a sound instead of an actual word. Chicheeech!!

What do paanchus really do on a ship? Short answer is that they do every job that the other engineers hate doing themselves. Long answer? Change the date on the notice board. Get the tools. Fill up the log book. Get the right tools. Check tank soundings. Get the "jugaad" tools. Transfer bilges. Get some more tools. Transfer sludge. Get every available tool. Fire up the incinerator. Get everything that remotely looks like a tool. Clean filters. Put the tools back. 

Usually the youngest guy in the engine room, the paanchu is expected to be the fittest, the quickest and always willing to help - which means he gets to run up and down ladders whenever needed. If he is not the fittest and the quickest, well, we make sure he gets there soon. For people who have never seen a ship's engine room (most non-seafaring people and all 2nd Officers), you need to know that the engine room has a whole lot of stairwells. Not the comfortable 30-45 degrees inclination stairs we are used to - these beasts are inclined well over 60 degrees to save space, so climbing stairs is more like medieval torture than anything else. 
Climbing these steps, five thousand, seven hundred and sixteen times a day!

Our dear paanchu, when he is not busting his knees getting us our tools, also contributes in other ways, such as answering the telephone. Oh, how I hate answering phones! In case you don't remember, you can read more about that here. Back when I was the junior-most engineer, I said "Hello, Engine Control Room, 5th Engineer" more times than I care to remember. So many times, that even after I returned home and the landline rang, I said the exact same thing. To my aunt. I figured if I pretend it didn't happen she would ignore it, but she is sharp that way. "Shu bole che?!" 

Everyone does their job. Works hard. But if you look at the condition of their work clothes, you'd really think the juniors are getting a raw deal. Agreed, they end up doing a lot more of the "messy" jobs as compared to the other engineers, but very few of the guys actually bother to not dirty themselves. Paanchus look dirty even when they are not at work. As for their overalls, if you saw one lying around, you would assume it has been used to wipe the floor. In fact, I know a guy who actually did wipe the floor with his overalls, and ended up dirtying the floor a lot more!

Another job the paanchu does - providing comic relief. And they don't even know it! Some of the most hilarious moments I have had at sea have been thanks to a silly junior engineer who is as clueless on a ship as Ajay Devgn is on the dance floor. One fine morning, the Chief Engineer asked the paanchu to "get the Main Engine flow meter". Any other guy would have gone out, noted down the reading of the flow meter, and given a handwritten note to the Chief with a series of numbers scribbled on it. 

Not my paanchu! 

This guy went out and got the flow meter - except that he got the real thing. Went out, bypassed the meter, unscrewed it, cleaned it and carried it back up for the Chief to read himself. I had never before, and have never again seen a man look at another in such utter disbelief! 

These guys are overworked, underpaid and truly under appreciated. Most of my paanchus are now brilliant engineers in their own right, but every time I meet them, I can't help but think of all the goofy things they did. A shout out to my favorite Paanch Saabs: Karan, Ashish, Justin, Christopher, Efren, Pranesh - You guys are the best! 

Feel pretty goofy myself when I meet my seniors too, by the way.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

That Kid from Reay Road

So let's set the scene... Typical Mumbai summer morning. Not comfortable. Far from it, in fact. Humid enough to make you crave a thanda bisleri with every pore of your sweat-soaked skin. A little past rush hour, so you are actually looking forward to getting in a local train just so you can stand at the door and feel air move, even if it is not exactly a cool breeze. Like countless (quite literally) other Mumbaikars, I take the local train to get where I want - which today is a god-foresaken maritime training institute, at god-foresaken Reay Road. It always makes sense to spend 25 minutes in close contact with sweaty, smelly, mostly ugly strangers than be comfortable in a taxi but end up sitting in it for an hour plus 25 minutes. Yes, thanda bisleri instead of simply a water bottle from home; entitled enough to claim Reay Road as god-foresaken; shamelessly brands people in local trains as "mostly ugly"; but will always prefer the C.S.T. Slow local from the ha...

That Woman in a Perpetual Rush

Your quintessential middle-class working mom. Who else?!  Let me tell you about mine. Not going to be easy, considering this woman has multiple personalities. I would have been under the impression that there are at least four identical women who take turns lovingly feeding me, ordering me around, giving me a scolding and taking me on a guilt trip. I have, however, seen this singular person change personalities in front of my eyes, so rest assured there is just this one woman who changes personalities as effortlessly as she changes pillow covers. My mother may have many personalities, but there is one thing common to all mothers. They do not have time, nor patience. You want patience? Well, that is what dads are for. When the Creator made the universe, they looked at every problem, big and small, and decided to give us a mother to solve them all. Maybe they did not have the time to devise a solution for every problem. Maybe they did not have the patience to bother. Or maybe, she ...

That Ringing Telephone

This one is about telephones on ships, and why I hate them. Hate them with all my heart. Not just hate - detest them, more like. I wanted to curse and use foul language, but my editor made me watch my language, so let's just say I have a strong dislike for telephones. Don't get me wrong, I am not anti-social. I just hate telephones when I am at sea. Not my beautiful little darling smartphone, of course - that one is my companion, my partner - maybe a little bit closer to my heart than my editor even! My feelings are restricted to the work phones. And there are so many of them on a ship, it feels like you are being stalked. They are like those cute little pugs in the Vodafone commercials, just not as cute. Not cute at all. Ugly monstrosities, in fact. Why do I hate them, you ask? Fair warning - I am going to rant. Still interested? Hmm..read on then! 1. The volume. On a ship, you can't hide from a ringing telephone. Sitting on the shit pot, focused on the job at han...