My Second Officer has a Philosopher’s Stone. It is the secret of his powers- mystical powers. It is a well-kept secret because, close to him as I am, I have never had a sighting of this Philosopher’s Stone. I long to see it. Even if I may not touch, I still want to touch it.
Who wouldn’t want to wrap his or her claws around that stone that could turn the basest of metal into pure gold? That Philosopher’s Stone of ancient legends and contemporary quests. Even the peoples at Apple Corporation are in a maddened quest against the people at Microsoft to get a hold of The Philosopher’s Stone first.
I want it, and not just because I will like to turn everything, even people’s heart into gold; it is that I have long wanted to play The Alchemist. I am sure, wielding the Philosopher’s Stone I can disprove Archimedes Law of flotation and propound a floatation theory which any one can walk on water who recites it.
My friend, the Pakistani Second Officer exhibits such mathematical acumen you would think he is Pythagoras reincarnated. He thought me the magic of juggling numbers in determining the volume of cargo-in-the-hold without the use of modern gadgetry. I am now very proficient in mathematical calculation- if you are reading this many years from now.
The man, my Second Officer, is also a healer. Although, a Second Officer onboard a Merchant Navy vessel is the ship’s doctor by virtue of his (or her) training and qualification, but this man for his healing gift could have been Jesus come to our sinfully sick age. My Second Officer: With his hair, eye colour that looks like he’s wearing contacts, and full beard, actually looks like those Jesus you find in the illustration of Jehovah’s Witness publications, for a Pakistani. He is that handsome and majestic. From him, I learnt the homeopathic use of tamarind powder- an ordinary cooking spice- in curing bone-deep pains. I learnt many other medicinal uses of spices and cooking condiments, but the tamarind powder cure for pain seem more interesting because it soothes the pains of a broken heart too.
Even more interesting is that he is teaching me Arabic alphabets hoping that I may be able to read My Gift Qur’an in its purest form. In this process, I have learnt the Urdu (a language widely spoken in India and Pakistan) word for donkey. Each time I slipped, which is often, or missed a point, he would get righteously peeved and say “gadda”- The word for donkey in Urdu- it sounds nice, doesn’t it? it is mostly pronounced with a guttural click and hiss.
With this man’s Philosopher’s Stone, a mere donkey- as I believe- can bypass turning into a noble steed and be transformed into a gallant knight. My belief in this man, and his gift- the #PhilosophersStone which I hope to get my hands on and wreak the next world wonder, has kept me enamored to My Second Officer.
I want, badly, what this man has. Not just because I crave gold- pure gold; but it is that I have long wanted to play The Alchemist. I am sure, working the Philosopher’s Stone; I can disprove Archimedes Law of flotation and propound a floatation theory which anyone, even with half a brain, can walk on water, who recites it.
There are crewmates of mine who will not stop at walking on water to reach shore to chase some loose skirts, but will go on to turn the whole Atlantic Ocean into wine if they could only possess a Philosophers Stone.