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The rain came down in sheets, drumming against the corrugated roof of the harbor master’s shack. Inside, old Manish Rathore adjusted his spectacles and stared at the radar screen. A single blip—large, slow, deliberate—inched toward the approach channel.
Date: October 12 Time: 22:47 hours Location: CITPL Marine Terminal, Berth Delta-7
He stamped the final box:
Manish glanced at the berthing report pinned to his corkboard—a neatly typed document titled . It listed every scheduled ship, cargo type, mooring plan, and risk assessment. The Indus Fortune was marked in red ink: “High Priority / Maneuvering Caution.”
It was the M.V. Indus Fortune , a cargo vessel three days overdue. Citpl Vessel Berthing Report
By 23:30, the Indus Fortune groaned against the dolphins of Berth Delta-7. Mooring lines snaked through the darkness, pulled taut by dockworkers in yellow rain gear. Manish watched from the window, then turned back to his desk.
CITPL (Coastal Integrated Terminal & Port Logistics) ran a tight operation. Delays meant demurrage fees, unhappy clients, and a cascade of paperwork that could bury a man alive. But Manish had been a harbor pilot for twenty-three years before a bad knee grounded him behind a desk. He knew the sea’s rhythms better than the algorithms in the new berthing software. The rain came down in sheets, drumming against
He flipped open a fresh page. If he filed this report correctly, the terminal manager would authorize two tugs instead of one, and clear the adjacent berth for safety. But if he made a single error in the coordinates or wind allowance, the vessel could scrape the fender system—or worse, collide with the fuel pier.