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Fold the Baby
The sign, in Hindi, in front of my seat in the airplane says, “mausam kharab ho toh kripya shishu ko fold karke rakhen“. Meaning, if the weather is bad, please fold, right, fold, the baby. Yes, the baby.
The same sign below, in English, says, if the weather is bad, please keep the baby wrapped in blankets.
This, my dear readers, denotes the state of our own language, in our own land.
From the rediff archives
I had read this article on rediff.com a few months back. Please, please read it!
Oh and by the way, this site is soon going to get a makeover.
Keep Talking
As I gasp for air, the words of Pink Floyd come to my ears.
“There’s a silence surrounding me, I can’t seem to think straight”
What precise timing. And there I was lying on the floor with my fists clutching the corners of the blanket. Sunlight washed the interiors of the room but I lay in darkness. My mind going blank, bleak with every passing moment. The only allowance, the music that overwhelmed the room.
“I’ll sit in the corner, No one can bother me”
The crushed bed sheet beneath me probably gave a hint of my restlessness. My feet numb and this state of inactiveness moving up, taking over my body, rendering it frozen, at it’s own pace.
“My words won’t come out right, I feel like I’m drowning”
In this state of momentary lapse of consciousness, sources of inspiration are extinct. Hope is not a bad thing to have, if you can find any that is.
“Why won’t you talk to me. You never talk to me ”
That time and that sudden silence. I remember, first I was taken aback and then sank in it, like a burnt out Torpedo shell in the deep sea.
” I sometimes wonder, Where do we go from here ”
Where could have we gone from there?
If not here, then where?