An Ekphratic Event

The water I see is choppy, I have always loved that term, and it is perfect for the angry looking waves that are thrashing against the hulls of those ships. I think I am also on a big ship, high above the water on a deck, but so vulnerable to the ocean’s whims.

I can feel the waves as the vessel struggles to maintain its balance and the wind rips my hair out of the partially neat hairstyle I started out with in the morning. Now it is afternoon, but I feel like it has been ages, the endless ocean in front of me is only interrupted when we face trouble, as we are about to. The two ships on our course appear to be hostile, to each other and anyone else in the vicinity. This doesn’t bode well for me or my ship. In the distance I see more of the hulking sea ships, it is impossible to discern their flags through the damn smoke that is billowing, darkening the foggy sky. I am worried-friends or foes?

I am afraid, as I stand here, awaiting my fate near what is definitely going to be a huge, important battle, at least as far as I can tell. The weather conditions are making me more anxious, the skies look calm but the ocean is very rough. I overheard the captain as he shouted orders to the crew, he didn’t seem anxious, but he has to be calm. The first mate was clearly afraid; I heard he only got the post because his father owns the ship.

I think this is the calm before the storm—the skies are definitely going to wreak havoc tonight. The ship is plummeting more and more on the waves. The deck is becoming dangerously wet, I have a death-grip on the railing, but my arms are beginning to ache. My sea sickness forced me out here, but my fear makes me want to run inside and hang onto my bunk. The rocking of the ship is making my stomach turn, I haven’t been able to keep much down, I hope I survive this trip so I can tuck into one of my mother’s delicious roasts. It should only take another week before we dock at my home town, provided we live through the night.

I had never seen this painting before, but I do love Manet. The Battle of the U.S.S. Kearsarge and the C.S.S. Alabama might not seem poetic, but the painting comes alive the way a really good poem can bring you to a profound moment when you least expect it. The instant I saw it, I felt like I was there, on that ocean, which is what I tried to show.


Foreigners making a culture their own.

Shoutout to Megumi Deepak Sakakida-her art at the Rangoli Metro Centre is graphic-novelesque and featured a lot of shoes & food! Two of my favourite things, much like many other people. What is really interesting is how Megumi payed so much close attention to the food and really captured what it looks like so skillfully. And the cute white-coloured creature with a yellow scarf/collar (identified as a dog) seems like a good signature. Other artists have symbols that mark a work as theirs, Megumi’s is just cuter and more vital to her paintings.

Talking to other people about her exhibit, the general impression I got was that her art is even more special because she is a foreigner who came to Karnataka and took such an interest in Indian culture that she could so accurately paint it. I don’t know how I feel about this, Many people would say, “It is so amazing to see a Japanese person come and draw such Indian things.” Others would probably get all gungho and strongly voice their opinion, “So what is she is Japanese and can now speak Kannada and write it? We learn foreign languages too and we go to other countries.” These are two sides of an argument as I see it, but as we all know, there are never only two sides to an issue. People in my General English class would definitely attest to that.

I was hoping someone might share what they think about this, or not. This is just me thinking on to the keyboard (quite literally) or lets go with “out loud” in a metaphorical, and more poetic sense.