Lingua Franca

There is something about Punjabi songs. The beats, they say, make up for the most atrocious lyrics. For others, a lot of times, raw carnality lights their fire (pun intended, of course). A lot of them don't understand what is being said, but oh! The way them groove to the tune. Fantastic!

Having stayed in the north of the country for a long time now, I can muster the courage to recognize some words. And also, a few phrases which would make any denizen of the Punjab to shame. But then again, I try!

I am proud to say that there was a time when I was multilingual. Five languages, with proficiency, made for a good conversationalist anywhere in the world. And then, yours truly lost touch. Sometimes when I listen to a song a francais, I feel terrible that I can understand words in singularity. And then, there was a time when I loathed myself for not understanding what chokher bali meant when I used to think that Bangla is pretty simple.

Language, after all, gives a sense of who you are, where you belong to, and what you stand for. It makes you communicate with the people you want to, and shuts out the unwarranted junta. Language is a powerful tool, and also the most hurtful. A very few times, things need to be said in a particular way so as to have the desired effect. At other times, verbiage does the trick.

So the next time you speak or listen to someone, put some intent. Be careful of the words, and wary of the pauses. After all, one has to be mindful of the language.

On a cold January evening

"Why can't I be a part of the crowd?"
"Because you are different. And did anyone blame you for being different?"
"No..
I have a lot of expectations from myself."
"We all do, and more often than not, we tend to aggrieve no one else but us. You want to sit down?"
"..."
"I was never a part of them. And they would have wished for me not to be here. But I am, and because it happens this way, let's do something good?"
"Hmm"
"I am me only in front of a few people. Finger numbers. Does that make me less social? No. Does that make me cringe from inside? It used to, not now."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Erm, yeah."
"How can you be so frank with everyone? Open, if I can call it?"
"Because sometimes in the layers of conceit and camouflage, you tend to lose the opportunity to speak what you always wanted to. And a lot of times, time is not by your side."
"I have always detested being this way. But I can't help it now."
"You don't need help."
"But.."
"You have made me see your potential. And you are good."
"But I make most of the mistakes as well, right?"
"And that is a good thing, innit? Perhaps, you are bound to learn the hard way. Nothing wrong with that."
"I want to be a part."
And you are."
"No..
I fought with a friend. It's a special day tomorrow. And I don't know how to make it alright?"
"Call. You have the number? Give it to me."
"No"
"Give it, I promise I won't stalk."
"I won't be able to say anything"
"Don't worry, you will"
"But, I can't. I'll stay silent."
"Trust me?"
"..."
(away)"Hey! So, I have someone who wants to talk to you for sometime now. It's time you did too."
"Hello. Hmm. Um. Yeah. Thik hai.."
(away)"All well? Yeah, alright. Sure, I'll do that."
"What happened?"
"Nothing. Go back, now."
"No.. I need to.."
"Now."
"Oh! Okay..


Thank you."
"Anytime."

The figure disappeared in the dark cold night. A small speck in the background of all hopes and aspirations. Looking around to see where each one of us figures in the fabric, something obscured the vision. And all that could be seen was molten glass. Fluid, stinging and warm.