Feature Story

Whispering Logistics

Shipping away
The tide is hungry and the food is limited
When you stood still others marked their way
Rivery wonders

"What is so special about a port - it only pollutes - you cannot even walk through the mud" - that's what locals say!

However, the camera says something else, so, here it goes - lets hear the stories of logistics that determines our everydayness.

Hence, the ships are waiting to be emptied and refuel to begin another journey of uncertainty. From the days of mesolithic, seas are explored through canoe. Does a canoe tell stories of deep sea? May be it does, just like the river touches its shore and talks. The ships however, are relatively indifferent with rich stories they are unwilling to share. While the three ships look like best buddies, their untold lonely days are not very far as the sea is too large to find friends to open up. So, does the world - too large and yet too empty.

Meanwhile the a canoe is stranded and another one is juxtaposed on land - perhaps a major departure from the place where it meant to stay, to live, to navigate. So does the logistics for civilisation departs from the womb of the ships. They are stored, transported to the external world. The world which is too small to accommodate the demands of the civilisation.

Where does all the narrative go? Where does the stories of a sea journey, manufacturing and maintenance disappear? What makes the juxtaposed canoe rest while others marked their way leaving a clear pathway within the greens? Will they every speak up about the love affair they have witnessed at the horizon where the sun could never touch the water but could continue reflecting on? Does that forces them to live on?

Meanwhile, with the approaching darkness ships and canoes could feel the sea and river engulfing the lovers' soul. Before disappearing completely one could smell the wind blowing. Suddenly a homecoming storm comes out of nowhere and claims all the words spoken, the moment shared! The sandy dusts and water blows through the listeners' soul. Quite the same way wind plays with your hair in a windy highway - one could feel home coming storm inside.

Words and moments begin to dance around the soul of civilised logistics, like a stream of consciousness in blood rushing through its vain. One could eventually smell the sea-riverine aroma and before disappearing into the layers of stories s/he could listen to the whispering words - 'let me go!'

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—The JPG team

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