Translation Time

I don’t know why but I was thinking of translation when it happened. I knew translation was everywhere because I thought it was the basis of everything. I also knew there were different types of translation and I was aware that translation could mean transformation, rendering or interpretation depending upon its function. I loved it as much as I hated it because I was conscious of the constraints. First of all it was not the original but a copy or a copy of a copy. Thus to me this was a double-edged issue. It could give a glimpse in context, transform mass into energy but it was fraught with mistakes. It betrayed and misled me. It turned me into a faint copy, a compromise, changed me to only a process of survival. It didn’t give me peace either for it changed or molded me the way it pleased. In the end you couldn’t recognize me any more. People looked at me wondering what had happened to me.

Now the plane was waiting and I hurried with my luggage to get on board because it was late. I opened the door and I could see everybody inside looked impatient because I stopped it and delayed their journey for some minutes. I placed some luggage in the door so that the plane couldn’t fly and I could go out to get what was left on board. Then I sat down and when the door began to close and the plane started moving slowly I saw my watch left behind on the railway leading to the runway. It was just yesterday I had the batteries replaced and bought a new strap. I wanted to show everybody what a wrist watch I had. I couldn’t stop the plane anymore and my voice was killed inside me when I opened my mouth to say I needed to get out again to get my watch. Then I thought of phoning somebody to get it for me but I knew it would be too late because it was a well-trodden way and somebody would soon find it and take it. "How odd!, I thought, "Your eyes see what you lost but your hands can t get it back".

Of course they would tell me how important it was for them to see me again after more than three decades now. But I believe once they saw the transformation in me and translated me their own way they would get tired of me and I would lose everything else. The copy would use up the rest of its ink and colour. I thought it was time to stop translating the moment it was over.

Jamshid
Bremen, 22 July 2008

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