Colour realism tattoo of a dancing Ganesha with a red hibiscus flower on a thigh, set against a purple and orange watercolour wash.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Dancing Ganesha on the thigh

Realism · Thigh · Colour · Photo

A colour tattoo of the Hindu deity Ganesha shown mid-dance, with an elephant head, several arms, jewellery and a loose orange dhoti. The shading is smooth and detailed, with soft highlights on the skin tones and a red hibiscus flower beside the figure. Loose purple, pink and orange washes fill the background, and the design sits on a leg above a tiled floor.

Realism Thigh Ganesha Elephant Deity Hibiscus Jewellery

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The net had fouled on something under the Dogger Bank, and by four in the morning the Brenda Mae was listing like a drunk on a pier. Skipper Ruth Penhale stood at the winch with her jaw set, swearing at the warp in a steady, almost tender voice. Tomas wiped his hands on the tea towel over his shoulder and watched the stern lift and fall against the black sky. Every wave shoved the deck sideways. Somewhere below, a pan slid off the stove and rang like a bell.

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Dev had left in March to see his mother in Surat, and he had left behind a small brass god on the galley shelf. It had four arms, a crown, and the head of an elephant with a trunk curled like a question mark. Dev used to say it was the one who cleared roads, and that a boat full of men needed a fellow like that more than they needed another cook. Tomas had laughed at him, but he had kept the figure dusted.

He went forward along the rail with one hand on the lifeline. At the hauler he took the knife from Ruth without asking, and when the next swell heaved the deck up under him he did what Dev had done on the wet steps of the harbour wall, a little hop and a sweep of the arms, half dance and half balance. The blade found the knot. The net gave with a shriek of rope, and a rush of silver hake and one tangled orange buoy spilled across the boards. Somebody whooped. Ruth was laughing so hard she had to hold the rail.

Back in the galley the stove was cold and the figure sat where it always sat, a finger's width off true. Tomas nudged it straight. A jam jar on the sill held a red hibiscus that Dev's cousin had sent months ago, its petals dried to paper, but one still clung to the glass. He let the boat roll him against the sink and waited for the next obstacle, feeling oddly ready for it.