For me it was a room with a view – into the minds of writers. For all others, it was my grandfather’s dingy, old library with just a wall-mounted fan whirring away in sultry summer months.
I remember neatly stacked books arranged on the shelves. A few of those challenged me with their Urdu script, a language I did not learn despite Grandpa’s tireless efforts. He often said anybody who wants to understand the richness of poetry, should know Urdu.
I read translations of Urdu poetry today, and wonder if the spirit has been captured right. Emotions flow in watery memory, and take the shape of new alphabets. Grandpa nods his head in disapproval on the pages. Colors of life and expressions of language have changed for me. Whatever was anticipation at that point, is experience now.
curves, dashes and dots
frozen lakes of early youth
thaw with flow of thoughts
Creative Experiments and More 
Saleeekay se hwaoun mein khusbhu ghol sktay hein..
Abhi kuch log baaki hein jo urdu bol sktay hein ..
love your way Reena!
LikeLiked by 1 person
“frozen lakes of early youth
thaw with flow of thoughts”
Languages aside, I like these lines simply to express the coming of age, attaining to the potential that has been inside of you all along.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wonderful, value-adding interpretation!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reena
In language….everything has its own significance , you reminded me of my Papa , when he taught English Poetry he’d explain the use of Dots, pause, dash etc. which we usually avoid as insignificant.
Doesn’t it coincide with our own life….. our life
LikeLike
I don’t see those as insignificant. And the room that I describe, existed in Jhansi once upon a time.
LikeLike
Beautiful. Translations, sometimes, miss the soul.
LikeLiked by 1 person
But it is the closest alternative available.
LikeLike
That’s true . Thete are some words you can’t find true expression in other language. Some are really good translater.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I can sense the generation gap in the room and the way the language becomes a barrier.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks 😀
LikeLike
It is hard to translate the sound one loves in one language into that of another.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree. One can’t rhyme either.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A great story Reena. The fan on the wall and the books give a great image to your story. Translations rarely grasp the real feelings in my opinion. But they are second best. Loved your line.”Emotions flow in watery memory…”
Dwight
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much, Dwight!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yesterday’s memories are today’s discoveries.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I like the quote 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Cool. Like that window. The haiku sums up the growth you experienced despite not mastering Urdu. We all have to wonder at the translations we read, but I suppose every reader translates the writer, even in one’s own language.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I fully agree with the last line.
LikeLike
Thank you, Reena, for taking us into this special room with you. I could feel it and see it through your words. The haiku is, I think, a traditional one. At least in my understanding….the frozen lakes as curves, dashes and dots. I think of the shape of the lakes themselves along the shores….and perhaps the chunks of ice within the lake, forming those shapes. The final line shifts us into your mind and your shifting memories. A beautiful write.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! The curves and dots are also there in the Urdu script.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I really enjoyed that. I studied Urdu for 4 years and lived for a year in Pakistan. So it helped me feel that. I love Urdu! And back in the day, loved Pakistan. Nicely captured.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Certain languages are a culture by themselves.
LikeLike