THE POLAR PILLOW A SEAFARER'S LAUGH-OUT-LOUD GUIDE TO THE IMO POLAR CODE

(SEAFARER'S BEDTIME STORIES)

- CAPT GAJANAN KARANJIKAR

Picture this: you're on the MV Icy Intentions, somewhere so far north (or south) your weather app says" and the sun has filed a leave application. The sea is steaming like a gigantic kettle, everything metal is daring your tongue to touch it, and the radar is busy painting modern art with echoes of ice. On the bridge is your secret weapon: a thick book called the PWOM—the Polar Water Operational Manual—and a certificate that says your ship actually belongs here: the Polar Ship Certificate.

Now, you can read the Code cover to cover (which is good), or you can let this article tattoo the essentials on your brain using equal parts humor and brutal truth. The goal is simple: understand what to do, what never to do, and why the Code is less a straightjacket and more a very warm blanket.

FIRST, WHAT THE POLAR CODE REALLY IS (WITHOUT THE YAWNS)

It's a bundle of rules that bolt onto SOLAS and MARPOL to keep ships, people, and polar ecosystems alive when things get extremely cold, extremely remote, and extremely “oops.” It forces you to plan for reality: ice that moves, fuel that turns into marmalade, radios that sulk, lifeboats that prefer summer, crew who freeze before they panic, and penguins who do not accept garbage deliveries.

Think of it as the maritime equivalent of your mother’s winter checklist: coat, gloves, hat, snack, tell me where you're going, and if you're late, I'm calling everyone.

HOW TO THINK LIKE THE CODE (AND NOT BECOME A LEGEND IN THE SAFETY BULLETIN)

Mantra #1: Up here, hope is a lovely feeling and a stupid plan.

Everything you do is measured against “Can we survive here if help is far away?” The answer lives in your PWOM and the ship's operational limitations—temperature, ice class, daylight, endurance, comms, the works. Respect those limits like you respect gravity.

Mantra #2: