[Short Story] Lost in Translation

    

A very well-known later hagiographic story says that Kālidāsa was once dull-witted or uneducated, married to a learned woman, humiliated for his ignorance, and then received a sudden transformation after the grace of Goddess Kālī. This story explains his brilliance as pure divine blessing rather than training.  However, his works reveal an extraordinary mastery of Sanskrit grammar and prosody deep familiarity with Vedic, Upaniṣadic, and philosophical ideas refined knowledge of courtly life, politics, nature, astronomy, and aesthetics.

In the medieval legend of Kālidāsa and Princess Vidyottamā, the encounter that seals their marriage is not a spoken debate but a gesture exchange.

The princess, a formidable scholar, raises one finger, intending:

“Reality is one—Brahman.”

Kālidāsa, mistaken for a silent sage, raises two fingers, which she interprets as:

“Reality expresses itself as duality—Śiva and Śakti.”

She opens her palm—five fingers—to signify the five elements.

He responds with a closed fist, which she reads as:

“All multiplicity resolves back into unity.”

In truth, Kālidāsa is simply reacting instinctively, misunderstanding the gestures as threats to his eyes or face. The brilliance is projected, not spoken.

When I read this exchange, my mind threw up a delightful transposition a Him and Her story set in our times. Then the story practically wrote itself.

 

                                                         LOST IN TRANSLATION  

I have been married to Mandar for all of three months, and in that time, I have learned his coffee calibrations, and he knows mine. I know his brand of toothpaste, some of his favorite games. I am not quite sure if he knows mine. We are both engineers and we have learnt to see the world through numbers.

It is a Friday.

We are both working from home.

Guests are expected in the evening

Through the glass partition, Mandar mouths:

“Guests… Tonight. Food?"           

I stop mid-sentence; my mind clouded with the firefighting we are on. I crinkle my forehead and raise my index finger to say, “Hold on a sec!” I smile to ease his discomfort and mine. He smiles back, hesitates and then holds up two fingers. One dish. She’s maxed out. I’ll cover.

“What? What is he saying!” I blurt out to my embarrassment. Rishi who is sharing slides is perturbed. “Didn’t you get me Anya?”

I fumble for the right words and make an apology.

I notice Mandar still standing there although he gestures that he has to leave.

I take a step back. I do a quick math and decide; I should be done by 5 pm.  

I point to the clock and hold up five fingers.

“Five?” he gestures, looking quite crestfallen.

But before, I can respond, Tripti calls out, “What do you think Anya?”

I notice out of the corner of my eye, Mandar’s clenched fist. I look at him in confusion. “A fist? Really? What is he saying, power? We’ll land this? Well… That must be it…”   I smile, shake my head and continue into the mouth piece…”The problem areas… I feel are …”  

Mandar smiles. My smart wife thinks of everything. Of course we can’t stop with two dishes. One of the guests in vegan and the other eats gluten free. The third is on Keto. That would mean at least five dishes if I exclude the dessert. She is the dessert specialist anyway. The next hour is light. Let me get on to it…”

I stare helplessly after his retreating form.I enter the kitchen exactly at five. I almost faint. The counter is chaos—bowls, pans, spices, half-finished ideas everywhere.

A flushed Mandar looks up when he hears my footsteps and declares. “Just taste everything and tell me what works and what needs work!”

We tamely order pizza.

Vegan. Gluten-free. Regular.

The kitchen clean up would take up the remaining time.

Later, we have a great after dinner story to tell the guests. And I guess we will be telling it for a long time to come.

“You know,” I begin,  “When I showed one finger…”

Mandar laughs.

“I know. But two felt safer.”

“You are the ultimate Madar! You are the only person in the whole wide world who would take one sec to mean one dish!”

“Not to forget, 5 pm to mean 5 dishes!” he added sheepishly. 

 

As we settled into bed he grinned.

“Next time?”   

“We will text, till our fingers fall off!!”