During a term break at the Indian Military Academy, I paid a visit to an Indian Naval Ship anchored at the Kochi Naval Base. The ship housed the Midshipmen from our course—fellow cadets I had trained with at the National Defence Academy. I boarded at about 9 AM, was warmly received by our coursemates, and was shown to the bunks where they stayed.

As the Midshipmen were to attend their daily training, I was ordered to sleep on Saurav’s bunk and stay put until they returned for the lunch break. I was also instructed not to emerge from the bunk, as an alien on board would surely attract the wrath of the ship’s senior officers. It was a perfect arrangement—for a Gentleman Cadet on term break, even a hard rock feels like a soft bed the moment sleep becomes an option.

Suddenly, the fire alarm blared through the ship. I first thought I was dreaming—but the commotion of boots striking the metal decks soon made it clear: this was real. I peered through the porthole and saw three fire tenders parked alongside the ship.

As an Army Cadet, I had been trained to take orders seriously—stay put at the post, do not abandon it until the last man and the last bullet. So I rolled over and continued sleeping.

The Midshipmen returned for lunch, and only then did it dawn on them that I was still asleep—like a good Army Cadet, obeying orders to the letter.

It turned out that someone had reported smoke somewhere on board. Pixie, the Officer on Duty, had raised the alarm, called the Fire Station, and the fire tenders had been promptly dispatched. As I did not know the naval procedure—and had no intention of revealing my alien-on-board status—I thought it wise to keep sleeping, even if the entire ship caught fire.

In the end, there was no fire. Only smoke. And the quiet satisfaction of an Army Cadet who had followed orders—and slept through the chaos that followed.