Saturday, October 27, 2012

Not the same thing.

Wonder how translation works? You need to know at least two languages perfectly for translating a text. Say, you obtain a text in one language and are asked to translate it to the other. You simply find a dictionary and that's that. Sounds easy enough.

But language isn't mechanical that way. It is an art; words have shades, like colors. Emotions have shades and each shade has its word, with its own shade. It is like inception; it is complex. Translation mustn't just happen at the niveau of the text.

I could never understand how a single language could be sufficient. The beauty of language lies in its multiplicity. When you pick up more languages as you go, it just becomes that much easier to express stuff; it takes that extra mile to bring you home.


For instance, 'sundar' or 'belle' cannot convey the weight of 'khoobsurat' or 'brahmadham'. 'Twilight' isn't an appropriate fit for sentences where 'aube' can do better. 'hair' or 'cheveux' can't say exactly what 'zulfein' means. 'eyelids' and 'kannamudi' are just  sad excuses to the meaning that 'palakein' subscribes. 'nasheela' has not the connotation that 'sultry' implies.Earlier in the post, the word 'level' could not mean what I meant by 'niveau'.They don't fit.

Even within the same language, 'impossible' is not the same as 'incredible'; 'rage' isn't 'anger'. 'Tristesse' is poles apart from 'douleur'. 'naina' isn't the same as 'aankhein'; 'sayankaal' and 'sandhyakaal' mean different to different people. Synonyms fail, plusieurs fois.


Translation might work to bring people speaking different languages closer, but at what cost? Yes, they mean the same, but the 'arth' just isn't the same. If I had it in me, I would go beyond the languages I know and create one, like Shakespeare or Rimbaud (pronounced: Rambo) did. What they meant by creating words is that, we define the world with the words in our dictionary, but what about those moments of speechlessness, those instances of indefinite 'flood of emotions', that 'kshan' when you open your mouth and shut it, because you just don't know what that particular emotion is called?

And what about hallucinations? What about fantasy, reverie, other states of consciousness. All those times you described something as a 'blinding white light', could you be sure it was actually a blinding white light and nothing else? Could you believe your own words?

When you break it down, you find that the inspiration is what differs; it is the 'prerna' that makes a word what it is. You can't use two words having different inspirations to mean the same. It doesn't work that way.

Punctuation, pronunciation, even body language work along the same lines. Language isn't just bits of grammar and syntax that are put together to form something; it is more like a jigsaw puzzle.You don't have to be metaphysical to see it; because when a word fits perfectly, you just know it.